


Broken Warriors

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Action, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Clubbing, Did I Mention Angst?, Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Guilt, Healing, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Internalized Homophobia, Lemon, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Performance Art, Poetry, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Preventers (Gundam Wing), Quatre Raberba's Uchuu no Kokoro | Space Heart, Recovery, Revenge, Rimming, Romance, Suspense, Violence, Weddings, Yaoi, a bit of masochism on Duo's part, a goodly amount of sap, afternoon talkshow levels of drama, arrogant Wufei - but he changes, bad men doing really bad things, because - seriously - angst, child pornography, even more angst, gundam boys with Problems, i'm adding tags as i go - bear with me, ok - when i said lemon? i meant LOTS OF SEX, post war-ness (no EW), selfish Relena, sexual identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 00:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 119
Words: 501,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13963293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by pyrzm--The GW boys were trained for war, but not for peace. What happens when ex-terrorist teens find themselves alive and in the limelight after a war none of them expected to survive? Where's Heero? Duo's strange desires? What the heck is that outfit 04 has on?? And why is 05 still so grumpy? Don't let the opening chapters fool you. NOT a death fic. *wink*--(The Rape/Non-con in this fic is in the past and is not explicit, but it is a cause for distress in their present and I believe even referenced rape deserves the warning. -Dacia)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).
> 
> **Warning: lots of sex. Multiple pairings.  
> Post-Series. Most of Endless Waltz movie is ignored.  
> R for language and implied sexuality. Implied 02xOC, 03x04.  
> (Note: Don't let strange format throw you. It's not all like this!)

_Transcript entry by: Dr. Thomas R. Batoosingh_  
_Outpatient Services_  
_Winner Memorial Veterans Hospital_  
_L-2 Colony_  
  
_Names censored for confidentiality._  
  
_Subject: D M._  
_Notes for Psychiatric Session #68_  
_03/16/198_  
  
_Subject enters visibly agitated, pale, looks thinner than last week. According to medico, subject has lost eleven pounds over the past month._  
  
_Chooses armchair rather than couch, as usual. Notices that I have shifted the position of the chair to under the window overlooking the garden. Repositions it against back wall, facing the door as before. Common in so many of the veterans I treat here. Subject initially sits with arms and legs crossed, foot jerking, clearly tense._  
  
_Nails still painted black, and more badly gnawed than last time. Clothing different. Agreed at last session that resumption of pseudo clerical shirt had exacerbated anxiety rather than relieving it. Currently wears denim jeans-very worn, very tight, with numerous tears at legs and under seat. Has referred to them in the past as "cruising drag." Possible indication of return to compulsive promiscuous sexual behavior. Some sort of olive drab military tank tee under black leather jacket, jump boots, wide braided leather choker. Chocker possibly an attempt to cover (or call attention to?) bruising on throat. Together with more bruising on wrists, suggests return to sadomasochistic sex play._  
  
_Subject aware of my scrutiny, says nothing but continues to pull at jacket sleeves, as if ashamed to have me see. More likely conscious or subconscious attempt to draw my attention to bruises. I will wait for him to initiate that discussion again. Little progress on that issue, apparently. Overall initial impression: subject in highly volatile state of mind today. Consistent with recent sessions. Patient remains functional, but may be approaching some new crisis point comparable to one reached seven months ago, resulting in second suicide attempt._  
  
_Transcription begins:_  
  
You look tired. More nightmares?  
  
Patient M: Yeah! I told you; those fucking sleeping pills only make them worse! I get started and I can't wake up! I feel like shit.  
  
Worse than the sleep deprivation and psychotic breaks?  
  
Patient M: Well, I'm not hallucinating or hearing voices, if that's what you mean. But I don't know if it's any better, really. I don't know.  
  
Do you recall these dreams when you wake up?  
  
Patient M: Yeah, 3-D, in full color and Ultra-Dolby surround sound. Lucky me.  
  
And?  
  
Patient M: _(defensive body language. Nail biting. Plays with hair. End of braid appears to also have been chewed. This is new.)_ Sometimes it's the massacre. Sometimes it's Solo--dying. Sometimes it's just darkness and fire and falling and cold. But mostly-  
  
Yes?  
  
Patient M: You know. _(already near tears. Confirms my impression of increased volatility.)_  
  
Tell me.  
  
Patient M: _(shouting)_ Fuck it, you know!  
  
_(Brief break while subject weeps. Previous reserve is not present; sobs quite hard at several points. Outburst lasts approx. 4 minutes. When he's done I give him a glass of water.)_  
  
Patient M: Thanks. Still no vodka, huh? _(Usual retreat to defensive humor, covering embarrassment at loss of control.)_  
  
We agreed that would be counterproductive, considering your history.  
  
Patient M: Can't blame a guy for trying, eh? Seriously, though, Doc. I haven't touched a drop in over a month. Scout's honor.  
  
Were you a Boy Scout?  
  
Patient M: Nope. But really, I'm not drinking. I don't lie, remember? And the booze doesn't mix so good with the meds ya got me on now.  
  
That's good to hear. I'm not here to blame you for anything, you know that. You do quite enough of that on your own. You've made very good progress these past few months. You will continue to make progress.  
  
Patient M: It doesn't feel like it right now.  
  
It's hard work, therapy. You're a very brave young man. Are you ready to continue?  
  
_(Subject visibly reluctant. Shifts to make wrist scars and bruises visible. Wants me see, to ask, to push. Perhaps to disapprove. Still undecided whether this behavior pattern is primarily manipulative or submissive.)_  
  
You've been to one of those clubs again?  
  
Patient M: Yeah. There are a few left I'm not banned from.  
  
Does it help?  
  
Patient M: _(laughs)_ Yeah, it helps. Just not for long.  
  
But you go back anyway. You let total strangers abuse you.  
  
Patient M: It's not abuse! It's-it's--  
  
It's all right. Take it slowly as you need to. How would you describe it?  
  
Patient M: Relief? For a little while someone makes me feel something else, so I don't have to feel all--this!  
  
It's been nearly two months since you sought this sort of release, is that right?  
  
Patient M: You're keeping track? Oh, guess that's your job, huh? Yeah, I think that's about right.  
  
Does this behavior currently include sexual contact?  
  
Patient M: You mean do I let them screw me?  
  
If you wish to put it that way. Do you let them screw you?  
  
Patient M: No.  
  
Then you remain-  
  
Patient M: A back door virgin? Yeah, sure. Got to save something for marriage, right?  
  
Is that really why you do not allow anal penetration?  
  
Patient M: I don't know. I just-- I don't know.  
  
Are you being honest?  
  
Patient M: I don't want to talk about this!  
  
Do you ever allow women to beat you or restrain you?  
  
Patient M: No.  
  
Have you decided why that is?  
  
Patient M: Yeah.  
  
And?  
  
Patient M: Why do you think?  
  
I have no idea. There could be many different reasons.  
  
Patient M: I don't swing that way, I guess.  
  
You are gay?  
  
Patient M: I guess.  
  
You don't sound very certain. The last I knew, you had not tried to have sex with a woman.  
  
Patient M: Are you gay, Doc?  
  
No, I'm not.  
  
Patient M: Have you ever tried to have sex with a guy?  
  
No, that doesn't appeal to me.  
  
Patient M: Well, then. There ya go!  
  
So you're saying that you are not attracted to women sexually?  
  
Patient M: I'm not attracted to anyone sexually.  
  
Yet you have engaged in some sexual play with men.  
  
Patient M: Yeah. Sure. Right.  
  
Is that a yes, or an evasion? Have you lied to me in past sessions?  
  
Patient M: No! Yeah, I mess around with guys. Sometimes I even fuck guys, OK? Can we change the subject, please?  
  
A few more questions. Please try to answer. Do you practice safe sex?  
  
Patient M: Yeah. No glove, no love!  
  
Do you usually achieve orgasm?  
  
Patient M: Jesus, Doc. What's with you today?  
  
That's an evasion.  
  
Patient M: Yeah, I guess it is.  
  
Very well, then. Do you enjoy sexual contact?  
  
Patient M: Define enjoy.  
  
That sounds like another evasion.  
  
Patient M: I'm serious. What do you mean by enjoy?  
  
Why don't you tell me what you mean.  
  
Patient M: Making me work today, aren't you? Ok, I need the physical contact. Sometimes I just really need to feel someone touch me. That's it, ok? Pretty pathetic, but that's what I need.  
  
Yet the touching you seek out seems to be rather violent in nature.  
  
Patient M: Yeah, well, stick with what you know, I always say.  
  
You were physically abused as a POW, weren't you?  
  
Patient M: Yeah, we've talked about that already, remember?  
  
Yes, I won't pursue that. I'm just curious as to why that sort of treatment draws you back.  
  
Patient M: Honestly Doc? I don't know. I'm telling you the truth. I don't fucking know.  
  
Can you identify what prompted this particular visit? It has been a while and you didn't really feel good about yourself after the last time. Why now, again?  
  
_(Subject breaks down. Outburst lasts approx. 2 min. Subject clearly needs/wants prompting today. Potentially a good sign, but the dreams, the escalating depression and the visits to sex clubs have become a clearly patterned behavior I find increasingly disturbing, especially as subject has apparently had no normal sexual relationships at all, and was perhaps a virgin until the war's end.)_  
  
Do you know why you went this time? _(Patient unresponsive.)_ All right. How long has it been since you last heard from H?  
  
_(Question precipitates third and strongest emotional outburst of the session, lasting 6 min. and quite violent at times. Subject throws several objects (tissue box, pillows, water glass, and magazines. None directed at me or window.) End in fetal in chair, clutching chest/shirt, and braid in attempt at self-comfort. After some deliberation, I decide to pursue this vein of inquiry.)_  
  
Have you heard from H?  
  
Patient M: No! There, happy now? That make your day? Gonna write that down on your little pad? So what, huh? Fuck him! He'd just have the address blocked like always, wouldn't he, the fucking hacker! Why does he even bother?  
  
You sound angry. Are you angry with him?  
  
Patient M: What? No! Jesus fuck, of course not! You think I'm screwed up? This kid never had a chance at anything like normal.  
  
I hear you saying that, but you still sound very angry.  
  
Patient M: (leaves chair to pace. Fidgets with hair continually as agitation increases.) I'm not angry! I don't want to be angry at him. He's my best friend, for fuck's sake! But why do it to me? Why keep writing? He doesn't tell me anything.  
  
What would you like him to tell you?  
  
Patient M: Oh, I don't know. How he is, maybe, or where he is? If I'll ever-if-(subject overcome, fighting for self control, attempting to continue.) Whether I'll ever see him again.  
  
You said something a moment ago, an interesting choice of words. You feel this is something he's doing to you intentionally? Doing it to hurt you, perhaps?  
  
Patient M: No! Fuck, aren't you listening? Clean out your damn ears, Doc! He doesn't know any better! Fuck! Fuck! _(Subject extremely frustrated, appears to be in almost physical pain.)_ Retarded pond snails know more about human interaction than he does! All he knows is how to survive and blow shit up and hack and cover his tracks. Shit, nobody's better at that than him. Why do you think none of us have been able to find him? Don't you think we've tried? Christ, Q and R and I have tried ever since he took off! But if he doesn't want to be found, he's not going to be found. If we can't find him with all the resources and connections we have between us, no one can. _(Still pacing, chews end of braid)_  
  
I have to tell you, you really do sound very angry about that.  
  
_(Subject paces, no response.)_  
  
These other dreams. Are they like the ones you told me about last time? H is in trouble or under attack and you can't reach him?  
  
_(Affirmative nod from subject.)_  
  
Would it be accurate to say that you need to see him? That you would feel safer, less angry, if you could communicate with him directly and be certain he was safe, as well?  
  
Patient M: Of course I want to see him!  
  
I understand that, but it's not what I asked. Do you need to?  
  
Patient M: _(evasive)_ What do you mean, need?  
  
It seems to me that these bouts of depression and anxiety escalate in direct proportion to how long it's been since you have received one of these evasive email messages of his. Looking back over my notes, I see a distinct pattern. Would you like to know what I've found?  
  
_(Subject returns to chair, somewhat calmer now. Feet remain on floor, but arms are crossed defensively.)_  
  
Patient M: Hey, go for it.  
  
It has been my observation that these messages, as uncommunicative as they have been, give you an initial sense of relief, even joy, but that this quickly gives way to anger, which you suppress and manifest as anxiety. Then, over the next few weeks, anxiety gives way to increasing agitation and depression. During the time you've been seeing me, you have received a total of twenty-three such messages from him, the closest spacing being three weeks, the longest nearly seven weeks. Until now. It has been eleven weeks since you last reported hearing from him.  
  
Patient M: Yeah, that's right.  
  
And on no less than five occasions, when it has been more than three weeks or so, you have gone to these sex clubs and allowed men to use you roughly, even hurt you. Is that right?  
  
Patient M: _(subject lapsing into sullenness, as observed before when this subject is brought up to him.)_ I haven't kept count, ok?  
  
And so far, one of those evenings has resulted in hospitalization.  
  
Patient M: That was an accident.  
  
According to the police report, witnesses state that you refused to utter what I believe is referred to as a "safe word." We talked about that. You were conscious, not gagged, but you did not stop the man from hurting you. The club owner called a halt, over your own protests.  
  
Patient M: I was off my head by then. I let it go too far. It wasn't the guy's fault. It was mine.  
  
I'll let that go for now, but I'm making a note here to take this up next session.  
  
Patient M: _(discomfort now manifesting as sarcasm.)_ Uh oh. You caught me using the f word again.  
  
Yes. You are very quick to say things are your fault. You seem to assume a lot of control over life.  
  
Patient M: Huh?  
  
In order for a situation to be your fault, you had to have the power to influence the outcome. I must tell you, that's not a realistic view in most cases, especially the situations you've described to me. But it's not uncommon, especially for children who have experienced the sort of early life trauma that you've known, to imagine that they can somehow control events, and that anything bad that happens represents a failure on their part to do so. It is not a healthy point of view. It is ultimately highly destructive, but in the short term, it can make a person feel safer, more in control. Does that make you feel safer?  
  
Patient M: I never feel safe. I haven't ever felt safe.  
  
That's not what you told me a few weeks ago. Do you remember?  
  
Patient M: _(Increasingly evasive. Avoiding eye contact. Clutches braid with both hands.)_ No.  
  
I think you do. I think because you are angry with your friend for not contacting you, that you are blocking out what you told me because it hurts that he's not here. Please, try to remember what you said.  
  
Patient M: I don't-- _(Agitation increasing. Subject chewing at a thumbnail. It bleeds before he stops.)_  
  
What don't you want?  
  
Patient M: I don't want to be angry at him! I told you, he doesn't understand how normal people work!  
  
And you? Are you are normal?  
  
Patient M: Fuck, no! I mean, compared to him maybe, yeah, I guess, but-- Jesus, what was the question?  
  
You told me that under certain past circumstances, and one specific circumstance in particular, you did feel safe.  
  
Patient M: Ok, ok! I confess. I felt safe around H. I felt really safe one night when we had to sleep together. Nothing happened, OK? We just slept!  
  
I didn't say anything happened. Did someone else accuse the two of you of doing something improper?  
  
Patient M: No. No one else knows.  
  
Did you feel it was improper? You seem to have trouble talking about it.  
  
Patient M: No, I don't! Ok, yes I do. There, you happy now? I'm--It's--Shit, we were trained to be soldiers. We weren't supposed to be scared. We weren't supposed to need-- He didn't. He never did. It was just me. We killed people, enemies. We carried out missions people twice our age couldn't have handled. We piloted machines more complicated and strong than anything else out there. We did that!  
  
Yes, you did. You were remarkable. I'm sure you still are. Why would that preclude accepting comfort?  
  
Patient M: Oh yeah, we were real remarkable. Freaks, more like it.  
  
You seem to accept that very negative assessment more readily than my observation that you took comfort in being physically close to your friend one night when you were both exhausted and cut off from help. You were wounded, as well, weren't you?  
  
Patient M: Yeah, but it wasn't serious. H fixed me up and kept me awake and warm until the shock wore off.  
  
Yet perhaps saved your life? If you'd been alone, you could have died or been captured, as I recall.  
  
Patient M: Yeah. But we did that for each other all the time, all of us. No biggie.  
  
So you say. I'd like for you to at least consider that from the point of view of anyone who has not been a combat soldier, it was in fact a very big deal. It must have been very comforting to know that you had friends you could trust to protect you if you were hurt or needed to sleep. That's a good thing for anyone, and a very lucky thing for a soldier. It's probably why the five of you survived and came out functioning as well as most of you do. But H seems to be the person who played that role most often for you. And wasn't he also the only one whom you did not have to fight against at some point?  
  
Patient M: No, you're wrong about that. I shot him, remember?  
  
But he never shot you.  
  
Patient M: _(Subject appears surprised.)_ Well, he did steal from me that time, but we weren't really friends then. But no, he never hurt me. Not like I did him. And I'm the only one he still writes to! How fucked in the head is that?  
  
That time you shot him you only wounded him, correct?  
  
Patient M: Two shots. I shot him in the arm and the leg.  
  
Two shots to the chest could easily have killed him. Were you such a bad shot?  
  
Patient M: Hell no! If I'd wanted him dead he'd be dead! And it wouldn't have taken more than one bullet, either! I just wanted to stop him.  
  
Under the circumstances, would it have been more advisable to kill him? As I recall, he was about to shoot a young girl, one who later turned out to be a friend and a very important political figure. Should you have killed him?  
  
Patient M: I didn't know who she was, either. And even if I had? Shit, he was just a kid. Actually, if I'd known what a perfect soldier killing machine he really is, I'd have known how crazy it was to leave him alive. But I didn't know. He was just a kid, a fucking child soldier, just like me. I didn't want to kill him.  
  
And yet with all we've just discussed, you still claim not to understand why such a boy would come to consider you a friend, someone worth keeping in touch with?  
  
Patient M: But he doesn't! Fuck, that's the problem! (Pacing again.) Keeping in touch is a holocard with a nice picture, and a note saying "Weather is here, wish you were beautiful"! Telling me where he is and what he's doing and if he's OK or sick or sad or--  
  
What do his messages say?  
  
Patient M: _(Subject laughs, fights back tears, but maintains control.)_ "Mission ongoing. Hope you are well."  
  
Mission?  
  
Patient M: Our little joke. He thinks of everything in terms of missions. He was so fucked up by the end of the war--Jesus, you can't believe how bad. Dying a couple of times, having your brains fried by--well, that's still classified, but it was a total mindfuck. Watching friends die, or get tortured or go crazy, or be put in the position of turning on you for a while? I mean, how many suicide missions can you accept before it starts to get to you, huh? He would have died lots of times if we hadn't stopped him or put him back together after he tried, but he never thought like that. So he lived. He was ready to die.  
  
Patient M: Anyway, when he left us at the end of the war, he must have set up some goal in that thick head of his. Go see if he can survive the peace, I guess.  
  
That's what you're doing. That's what our work here is about, wouldn't you agree?  
  
Patient M: That's what we're all doing. He never expected to survive the war. The people who trained him didn't care if he did. I-- I don't think any of us expected to live. It's like being eighteen and having an actual life ahead of you is some fucking cruel joke. What are we supposed to do? Go to school and sit at a desk all day? Date some sweet thing who's never seen human guts splattered across a sidewalk? Stop ducking at every loud noise, or big shadow that passes overhead? Stop assuming that everyone who looks twice at you on the daily shuttle ride is an agent? Stop sleeping with a gun under your pillow and a knife in your boot? You want to know how many weapons I've got on me right now, Doc?  
  
Sure. How many?  
  
Patient M: Six. _(Note: two small caliber handguns in jacket and jeans, one sheath knife in boot, one on right forearm in spring-loaded sheath, and two small blades and several lock picks hidden in his braid.)_  
  
Very impressive. But you still don't feel safe.  
  
Patient M: But safer, Doc, safer.  
  
I thought you said a few weeks ago that some of your fellow pilots seem to be finding other ways to cope.  
  
Patient M: Well, yeah. That's right. Q and T had families to fall back on, and jobs to go back to. And each other, of course. I guess you saw they're official, now, right? They're doing good with that, and they keep an eye on me. W is still a soldier, and he was always fine doing that. But H? He's got no one, and no clue.  
  
You don't know that for certain, do you?  
  
Patient M: What?  
  
He has been gone for more than year, with no real communication as to what he's doing or how he's living. Perhaps he does have some relationship or support structure.  
  
Patient M: No, he doesn't.  
  
But--  
  
Patient M: No, he doesn't.  
  
OK, we'll leave that for now. But you've left out someone. What about you?  
  
Patient M: Me? Huh. I don't know. I have a job. I have a few people I consider friends. I have a social life, sort of. Hey, I've got you, right? But no, I'm not normal, either. Anyone I ever dared consider family died a lousy death, except for--  
  
Except for?  
  
Patient M: What? Oh, nothing. _(Clear evasion.)_  
  
I think you consider H family. It's not wrong or weak or shameful for you to wish that he had stayed with you, so you could learn how to 'survive the peace' together.  
  
Patient M: Stop it, Doc. Don't go there. _(Tone is threatening now, for the first time in six months. I am uncomfortably aware of the weapons he carries, though he shows no sign of attacking.)_  
  
Please, at least consider this. You don't have to answer right now. You can think of it and come back on Thursday with an answer, or no answer. But just consider this. Do you think you'd feel safer, even happier, if he hadn't abandoned you?  
  
Patient M: Abandoned? Oh fuck! You fucking bastard. You fucker!  
  
_Subject breaks down completely. Session discontinued, but this is a significant breakthrough. Medication adjustments noted below. Sessions increased from two to three times/week._  
  
******  
  
_File addendum:_  
  
_Patient M missed Thursday session. Automatic alert went out to T and Q as designated next of kin. Following evening M admitted to psychiatric ward, following severe abuse at S &M club called "Brand X". Subject brought to hospital by Q and T, who apparently discovered him on the street near his apartment following the incident. Details currently under investigation by police. Among the belongings found with M was, rather ironically, a holocard from H. The front shows a temple scene in Kyoto, Japan, and the postmark confirms that this is where it was mailed. Dated five days previous to this incident. According to the postal service, M would have received it the day of the incident, suggesting that it was a direct reaction to the contents of the message. _  
  
_Message on back, hand-written: "Mission failed. I'm sorry. I love you, (subject's given name). I'm so sorry. Be happy, please. Love, H."_  
  
_The message, and the manner in which it was sent, indicate that it is most likely a suicide note. M clearly interpreted it as such._  
  
_Patient M currently under sedation, placed on suicide watch until further notice._  
  
_Confidential note: The police allowed me to keep the holocard for him. It is before me on the desk as I dictate this. I find myself strangely moved._  
  
_As noted earlier, I have had trouble maintaining objectivity with Patient M. I realize now I had unwittingly allowed myself to dislike H. From what M has told me, he sounds like a dangerously dysfunctional young man, yet he is the deepest emotional commitment of M's unhappy life. Their fellow pilots, Q, T, and W, are with M now. I have spoken with all of them. While they are certainly damaged individuals, they all share M's remarkable resilience and I find myself liking them, and being glad they are here for him._  
  
_Yet for all their support, it is only this mysterious, absent H who affects M on such a deeply intimate level. I had come to resent this influence, and yet now, looking at this sad little card, with it's cramped, boyish script and halting admission of feeling, I find myself pitying him instead. "I love you." "Be happy, please." I cannot imagine the boy M described being able to grasp such feelings, much less commit them to writing. I find myself wishing I'd had this poor, broken young hero in my care. "The boy who saved the world", dying a world away from the one person he was able to care for, and who so clearly loved him in return._  
  
_Perhaps, in time, M can take comfort in that final admission. But I will have to overcome my own anger at life in general and political leaders in particular before I can help him._  
  
_Survive the peace, indeed._


	2. Bedside Manner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo thrashed in the hospital bed, straining against the padded cuffs and begging hysterically. "Let me go! You tell them, Trowa! Tell them I can't be tied down like this! Trowa! Please, make them let me go! I can't stand it! Trowa!"  
  
"Duo, you know I can't do that," Trowa said for what felt like the millionth time in two days. He was exhausted and sore from living in a hospital chair for hours at a stretch. Quatre spelled him when Duo slept, but Trowa was the only one who could manage him like this.   
  
'Just like last time,' Trowa thought wearily, watching his former teammate struggle. Where the hell did he find the strength? And, with a pang of guilt, how had Duo gotten this bad again without any of them noticing?   
  
It had been over forty-eight hours now since they'd gotten him admitted, and Duo wasn't responding well to treatment. But he hadn't said one word about Heero. No one had, yet. Trowa wondered if Duo even remembered what had happened.   
  
Duo was currently back in what Trowa had come to think of as Stage One. If it wasn't for the wide canvass waist restraint, he'd probably have dislocated a wrist or shoulder by now. The sedatives they'd given him should have kept him comatose for days, but as soon as he got a few hours sleep his body just burned them off like sugar pills and the struggle started all over again. The mood stabilizers were taking longer than usual to kick in, too.   
  
The reporters were still lurking around outside. Wufei was on his way to deal with that, but it had been rough this time, trying to get Duo in quietly. Somehow word had gotten out, along with some of the juicy details, and photographers had been waiting. It was probably all over the news by now. "Former Gundam Boy Maxwell Caught in Rough Sex Scandal" or something along those lines. It was always phrased that way; they probably had a special template: Former Gundam Boy (insert applicable name/names) Caught etc. etc.  
  
Nothing the "Gundam Boys" did went unnoticed. Despite the glowing retrospectives the networks ran every six months or so, they'd long since lost their luster in the public eye. Still traumatized by years of war, people had wanted their five little heroes untarnished, or at least as untarnished as the press had painted them back in the day. Truth was, they'd all been pretty messed up puppies to begin with, but no one wanted to hear that. Fame, political gratitude, and Relena's cachet had protected them for a while, but none of them except Wufei really gave much of a shit anyway. Well, who knew about Heero, but that was a moot point now.  
  
Trowa swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. This wasn't the time. This wasn't the time . . .  
  
The reality behind the headlines was that the Gundam Boys were all walking wounded. Post Traumatic Stress was the least of it. None of them had taken well to peace. Heero and Wufei had joined Une's Preventers and worked security for Relena. Heero stayed all of two months, then quietly resigned and left without a word to anyone, disappearing back into the obscurity from which he'd come, as Duo put it once he'd calmed down.   
  
Wufei had coped by staying in the Preventers and pretending nothing had changed. They didn't see much of him anymore, except the occasional appearance during Duo's periodic meltdowns. He was loyal, of course, but it was clear he was slowly distancing himself from Duo and Quatre. He made the headlines now and then for punching a reporter, but kept his nose clean as far as the public was concerned.  
  
Trowa was still with the circus. He trained big cats and was a trapeze headliner, working nearly naked and without a net. That was almost as good as piloting Heavyarms. Almost. Off the wire, he didn't look much different in the mirror. He still dressed in quiet, dark clothes when he wasn't on the prowl with his friends, still didn't have much to say to strangers, and, with one recent and notable exception, kept to mostly to himself.   
  
Sweet, sensitive little Quatre had never been quite the same after Zero, and he'd had a colorful year and a half since peace broke out. After a very public nervous breakdown, he'd told his family to fuck off, then spent some time and much of his considerable allowance doing things no Nice Muslim Boy was supposed to do-and had the tattoos, piercings, cured STDs, and tabloid clippings to prove it. Some of this experimentation had been done with Trowa, and some of it with the aide and abettance of Duo Maxwell, between depressions and breakdowns of his own. Trowa had stayed close, bided his time, picked up the pieces when Quatre finally got most of it out of his system, and then proposed. Now they had matching nipple rings, shared a bed and not each other, and were still exploring how much fun two world-weary but supple young eighteen-year-olds could have between the sheets. Figuratively speaking, of course. Quatre Winner-Barton would do it anywhere, anytime.   
  
It made the news, of course. They ignored the press as best they could, refusing to comment or rebut except when one of Quatre's more conservative uncles started a smear campaign against Trowa, accusing him of taking advantage of the rich Winner heir. Then the pair had sent out joint press releases to the mainstream journals, inviting them to their civil union ceremony on L-2. Trowa hadn't felt the need of such a formality; he'd loved Quatre since the day they'd met, but it made Quatre happy to have some official ceremony-hence the nipple rings and hyphenated names-- and gave the tabloids great front page shots of them kissing shirtless in front of the JP, with Duo beside them, roses in his hair, wearing a tux jacket over a black leather kilt and nothing else, acting as both best man and maid of honor. It sparked a fashion trend, as well as a sudden rash of L-2 "GB-style" unions that winter. Vanity Fair interviewed them for a cover article. Maxine Liebowitz-Kwan did the photos. Duo made the covers of Vogue and Thrust. Wufei kept his distance, the conservative press shook their collective heads, and a few veterans associations wrote scathing editorials, but Trowa and Quatre didn't' care.  
  
Beyond sex, Quatre was learning the trapeze and discovering a talent for costume design. He wore make-up and leather and enough jewelry to set off metal detectors everywhere they went, streaked his hair in weird colors L-2 style, and had made a hobby of flipping off photographers. In short, he kept his sisters generally scandalized but the allowance kept coming. He also brought Trowa flowers and breakfast in bed and gave a very professional massage, sexy or therapeutic as needed. As far as Trowa Barton-Winner was concerned, apart from the nightmares and occasional flashbacks, things were looking up.   
  
Only Duo had turned out seriously self-destructive. He tried living with Hilde, but that been a disaster and the aftermath of that had kept him out of Preventers. It was too ironic; he'd been the sunniest personality of them all, the best at pulling the rest of them out of depression or hopelessness. Now he couldn't even save himself. Quatre claimed that Duo had simply used himself up. And of course, he missed Heero.  
  
Trowa shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable as Duo thrashed on through this Stage One. Glancing down at his watch, he decided that if this went on more than another ten minutes, he'd ring for the nurse.   
  
Duo was deathly pale except where the marks of this latest S&M misadventure colored his skin. Trowa winced, mentally cataloguing the bruises, scratches, welts, not to mention the cigarette burns on Duo's chest and inner thighs beneath the green hospital gown. The thick padding of the wrist and ankle cuffs holding him to the bed rails covered the worst of the ligature marks, but the mottled band around his throat was clear enough. Trowa could still make out the shape of the belt buckle that had pressed into the flesh there, and the braided pattern of the leather belt. At least there was no sign of rape. Quatre had been the one to ask this time, sparing Trowa that much, at least. But none of them were strangers to the S&M scene; they all knew what it looked like when things went wrong. This had gone wrong in a big way.  
  
T minus three minutes and Duo went still, panting loudly. The nurses had left his hair braided, but a lot of it had pulled loose in a tangled mess around his face. The eye that wasn't swollen shut was wide with panic, and bright with tears.   
  
'Here we go, Stage Two,' Trowa thought resignedly.  
  
"Please, Tro?" Duo whispered in that scared little boy voice. "Just my legs, OK? Just unbuckle those two straps. You know what it's like. I can't stand it."  
  
"No, Duo."  
  
More tears. "C'mon, buddy! Ya know I wasn't trying to off myself. You believe that, right?"  
  
"You promised us last time that you'd never do this again."  
  
Duo tossed his head against the mattress, pulling against the cuffs. "I know! I meant it then. I'm sorry. I just-I couldn't stop! Trowa, let my legs loose and I promise I'll talk to Dr. B. Please, Tro. I'll be good. I'll talk to him."  
  
"You'll talk to him anyway."  
  
"Pleeeeeeease? If I could just sit up. My hair's caught under me and it hurts."  
  
Trowa stood and carefully pulled the disheveled braid and loose hair over Duo's left shoulder. It was heavy in his hands, and as silky as he remembered. From last time. This all felt like deja vu. He stroked the ragged bangs back from Duo's damp forehead. "Please calm down and let the medicine work. We've done this before. You know I'll stay with you, every step of the way."  
  
Duo's chin quivered, and his cracked lower lip pulled down in a tragic grimace. "You're my only real friend."  
  
"You know that's not true," Trowa chided gently. Gods, how many times had they reached this point in the cycle in the last twenty-four hours? "Quatre wants to be here but he can't, not when you're firing emotions off in every direction. He got sick last time, remember? You don't want to do that to him, do you?"  
  
"No." A sniffle. A whimper. More tears.  
  
"If you want to see Quatre you have to calm down so you don't hurt him with all these feelings."  
  
"Wufei doesn't care." Duo was veering into sulking self-pity now. It was like watching a storm gather.  
  
"No, Wufei just doesn't like to see you like this. I don't like it, either."  
  
"But you stay."  
  
"That's right. I stay." Because Trowa covered well enough for everyone else to believe that it didn't bother him as much. He sighed inwardly, watching the evil gleam build slowly in that blue eye.   
  
Duo went dead still, gathering strength. And here it was.   
  
Stage Three.   
  
Arching against the waist strap, Duo let out a ragged scream. "Goddamn it, how can you do this to me? How can you just sit there? You fuck! You cocksucker! You get off on this, don't you, seeing Shinigami strapped down. You all do, you sick fucks! They're out there in the hall right now, jerking off. The doc, too, right? I'll get you for this. Fuck! Let me go! Let me go! Trowa! Trowaaaaaaaa!" His voice rose from scream to howl.  
  
Trowa sat back and tried to tune it all out. Duo was sick. Duo had worn himself out, waiting for something that simply couldn't happen.   
  
Exhausted, fed up, and depressed, Trowa let a new, darker thought creep in. Heero had held Duo like this for so long. Sending up a little flare just often enough to keep him on the hook.   
  
'Goddamn you, Yuy,' Trowa cursed silently while Duo thrashed and raged, not bothering to fight back his own tears anymore. 'Goddamn you for leaving him like this, leaving all of us. For cutting us out of your life just when we'd all started to think we might understand you. For pushing us away, Duo, Kat---me.'  
  
Trowa did his best to keep certain memories away, shut safely away behind one of the many locked doors in his mind, but he was too tired now. They came boiling out. All those days in the circus caravan, watching over Heero as he somehow managed to pull back from that first leap at death, to knit and heal and open his eyes, against all expectation. Trowa had fully expected to bury him. Instead, Heero stubbornly, grudgingly lived and they spent months together, oddly comfortable with each other's silences. Pity and respect had turned to something more like admiration as he'd followed Heero on his feckless journey of atonement. Maybe he'd even loved him a little, though he knew better by then than to entertain any hope of it being returned, except in Heero's own peculiar terms. Maybe Duo had gotten deeper with him. Trowa wasn't sure, but Quatre claimed to have picked up on something once.  
  
God, it hurt, remembering. Until two days ago, there had been at least the chance that they'd find him, drag him back if necessary, if only for the sake of Duo's sanity.   
  
For Duo. That hurt, too. Trowa had never understood the bond between Heero and this braided head case. Trowa loved them both, had trusted both with his life. He didn't seriously want anything more from Heero. But there was something between the other two that had made him feel shut out sometimes. Jealous, even. That made him feel small, even now, and guilty.   
  
"Tro?"  
  
Trowa looked up in surprise. He'd been so lost in his own misery he hadn't noticed when Duo had gone quiet again. Looking up, he found the other boy watching him with something like normal concern. "Tro, you're crying."  
  
Trowa wiped at his cheeks and sure enough, they were wet. He never cried.   
  
"He's really gone, isn't he?"   
  
"Yes," Trowa whispered. His chest hurt. His head hurt. His eyes felt like hot black holes in his head.   
  
"How could he do that? How could he just not come back?" It was barely a whisper. Duo lay limp on the bed now, eyes closed, tears streaming down into his hair. "It hurts so bad, Tro. It--gods, it hurts so bad!"  
  
This wasn't one of the stages. This wasn't drugs. This was the real Duo. Their Duo. He suddenly sounded more like his old self, even this sad, than he had in a year.   
  
Trowa went to the bed and slowly undid the wrist straps, then the waist, then both feet. Long, too-thin arms came up around his neck as he sat down. He gathered Duo against him, clutching him close and burying his face in all that soft hair as he wept. "Damn him! Damn him! I want him back, too."  
  
They cried together. It was a first, but Trowa didn't care. It felt real in a way that nothing had since the war ended. Quatre must have picked up on it, because suddenly he was there with them, arms around them both.   
  
"He did stay close by," Trowa thought in wonder, knowing what it must have cost his slight, sensitive husband. He'd stayed and he'd come to them now with tears of his own.   
  
A moment later Wufei was there too, still in his Preventer uniform, sliding in behind Duo and hiding his face in his hair. Hard to say if he wept. His hands were steady and warm as they covered Trowa's and suddenly it didn't feel like the bottom was dropping out of the world anymore, though the pain was just as bad.  
  
"Fuck! God-fucking-damn it" Duo sobbed, speaking for all of them.   
  
They stayed like that for what felt like a long time, and then as if by some unspoken agreement pulled away and turned to give the others time to wipe faces and noses and put themselves back together.   
  
Quatre sat down by Duo again and put an arm around his shoulders. "You say you didn't want that guy to kill you. But you didn't want to live, either. You're not sure yet if you want to. I can feel that."  
  
"Yeah." Duo wrapped his arms around the smaller boy's waist and rested his cheek against Quatre's blond-and-black streaked hair.   
  
"Stay with us, Duo?" Quatre was pleading now. Out of all of them, he still went most easily with his emotions. "Promise me, Duo. Promise you'll get better and stay with us?"  
  
Duo's arms tightened around him. "Don't ask me that yet, Kat."  
  
"At least say you'll try!" Wufei growled, losing patience again, or perhaps that was just his way of pleading.  
  
"Yeah, I can do that, Wu. I'm just so fucking tired!"  
  
"You can rest." Quatre kicked off his boots, pushed himself back against the headboard, and gently guided Duo's head down on his chest. He was wearing a soft cotton sweater today, with no hardware. Duo buried his face against him and let out a long groan. "I'll stay here on watch while you sleep, buddy. You rest, too, Trowa. Wufei, make him go rest."  
  
Trowa let Wufei guide him out. He dropped into one of the molded blue chairs that lined the corridor and rested his face in his hands, blocking out the harsh overhead light and the curious looks of nurses and visitors walking past He was too tired to deal with that, too tired to even be embarrassed. Pulling his bangs down over his eyes like the camouflage they were, he shut it all out.   
  
Wufei slumped down beside him. "Do you want to go back to his apartment?"   
  
Trowa sighed. "No, I'll just have to drive back when Duo goes off his head again."  
  
Wufei snorted, but Trowa heard the concern behind it. "He seems a little better."  
  
"For now, but I don't trust it. Not yet."  
  
"You're wise not to."  
  
Trowa glanced up to as Dr. Batoosingh sat down next to him, regarding them sadly. He was tall, brown, bespeckled man, with a lilting New Delhi accent. Though rather round-faced, he reminded Trowa of a basset hound. He looked more mournful than ever now.   
  
"You think he'll go off the deep end again, Doctor?"  
  
"I can guarantee some further hysterics." Batoosingh consulted the chart he was holding. "Duo is a relatively mild bipolar, but fast cycling at the best of times and highly unstable now. This sort of shock will not pass easily. I'll keep him here under observation for at least ten days while we work on his dosages, but after that? Well, I'm not at all comfortable letting him live on his own again, at least not for a while. I feel I must apologize to all of you. I honestly thought I saw some improvement. And I never foresaw Captain Yuy contacting him in that manner. To be honest, given the time since his last communication with Duo, I had begun to think perhaps he might have died. Has there been any progress in locating the body, Captain Chang?"  
  
"No one matching his description has come through the Kyoto morgues, but that is not surprising. Yuy is--was the sort to be very private about such things. He might even have gone elsewhere, knowing the holocard would be traced. Then again, he might simply have gone somewhere that he wouldn't be found."  
  
Trowa shuddered. They were all experts in urban stealth. Sewers, steam tubes, abandoned subway tunnels, telecommunication conduits: there were endless places to hide and Heero would stay hidden if that's what he'd wanted. That hurt, too. It was stupid to think that Heero had meant to hurt anyone but himself. He didn't understand what his absence meant to them, especially Duo. He wouldn't have stayed away if he had. It wouldn't occur to him that they might find some comfort in laying him to rest. Death meant nothing to him.  
  
He let out a sharp sigh and stood up. Another minute of such thoughts and he'd be crying again, out here in front of strangers. "I'm going to check on him, then grab a nap." There was always a room open for them during these lapses of Duo's. Quatre's family had built the hospital and he was on the board of directors, at least on paper, along with half a dozen of his sisters.  
  
He went back into Duo's room. There were no windows in this part of the psych ward, but Trowa suddenly felt how late it was. He didn't need to look at his watch to know it was night cycle now, nearly midnight. Outside the sky panels would be switched off, letting in the natural starlight.   
  
Inside, Quatre had turned the lights down and moved into the armchair, but left a nightlight burning for Duo, who hadn't been able to sleep in the dark since they'd come back.  
  
Trowa bent and kissed Quatre, who answered with another kiss and a questioning eyebrow. Trowa motioned for him to relax. The dark hollows under Kat's eyes betrayed the effort it took for him to be stay so close to the maelstrom that was Duo.   
  
Duo lay curled on his side facing the door. He was still awake, but calm for now. Quatre had combed and braided his hair for him and he looked more like himself. The bruises didn't show as much in this light. Trowa sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the blanket up under Duo's chin. "Need a pill?"  
  
"Ok for now. You should make Quatre go home. He looks like hell."  
  
"Just go to sleep and I'll be happy," Quatre murmured, overhearing.  
  
"You owe him big time, Maxwell."  
  
"Yeah, I owe all of you. I'm sorry."  
  
Trowa found Duo's hand and squeezed the cold fingers. "Just get better, and stop scaring us like this."  
  
"I really wasn't trying to die," Duo whispered.   
  
Trowa knew he should get out of there. He knew he should practice his famous personal code of silence and just get the hell out of there. Instead, he leaned down and looked Duo straight in the eye. After two days of screaming and crying and whining and abuse, something in him just unraveled.  
  
"You keep telling us that, Duo, but I think you're wrong. Quatre and I are the ones who scraped you up off that sidewalk in the middle of the night, after looking for you for hours and expecting to find you dead. Quatre read the police report. Wufei and I interrogated the club owner. I don't know what the hell was in that mind of yours that night, but you, Duo Maxwell, went looking for someone to hurt you bad."  
  
"Trowa, stop it!" Quatre warned, alarmed.  
  
"No, I listened to him for the past two days. He can listen to me now. He's already in the hospital and there are plenty of doctors and drugs on hand. So listen up, Duo. You set yourself a mission and you found someone willing to do it. Then you went with him, left the safety of the club, to carry out that mission in private. That goes beyond stupidity. You know better than that. It wasn't safe play you were after and you know it. Unacceptable, Maxwell. Totally unacceptable. "   
  
Duo curled tighter and closed his eyes. "You're right! I'm sorry! But I didn't ask that guy to kill me, I swear!" He swallowed hard and made a sickly attempt at his old grin. "Death by leather daddy? What kind of end is that for Shinigami, eh? The whole fucking Alliance couldn't take me down. Ya think one ordinary guy could do it? "  
  
"Yeah, I do, if you let him. So what were you doing? Tell me, Duo."  
  
Duo was quiet for a long moment. "I--It sounds stupid. I was just working off a little steam."  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
"Ok, that's an understatement, but it's the truth, really. I know its just kicks for you and Kat, but that's--that's why I do it. Nothing else works!" Desperation crept in, but there was no hint of hysterics. Duo was telling him the truth, as he understood it. "Seriously guys, nothing works! I've tried. Drugs, therapy, booze, work, not even hanging out with you sometimes. I'm sorry, I know you try, but it's just-- Nothing. I can't make Doc B. believe it, either. I don't know what else to do, y'know? I'm scared and that's all that fixes it."  
  
Trowa stared down at him, mulling this admission. Quatre was just behind him now, and Trowa didn't need his lover's extra senses to know he was worried.  
  
"What?" Duo asked uneasily.  
  
"I want you to make me a promise, Duo Maxwell. I'll trust you because I know you won't make it unless it's the truth."  
  
"Depends on what it is," Duo replied, guarded.  
  
"Quatre, you're our witness. Duo, the next time you get that bad, the next time you need someone to hurt you like that, you come to me and I'll do it."  
  
Duo's good eye widened. "We don't--We've never done each other. Not like that. Quatre? Say something. Tell your husband how crazy that is."  
  
"I think it's a good plan."  
  
Duo groaned. "You don't know what you're letting yourself in for, Barton."  
  
"I have some idea. And I'm not offering sex. I know what you mean and you know what I mean. I can't say I look forward to it, but I'll consider it a favor for a good friend, someone I care about enough to keep him safe. I want you to live, Duo. Heero would have wanted that."   
  
Trowa paused, knowing Batoosingh would not be happy with what he was going to say next, but he was going to say it anyway. One true thing Duo had said, in all his ranting and screaming, was that no one else understood the five of them the way they understood each other.   
  
"The doctor has the card Heero sent you."  
  
Duo seemed to shrink before his eyes, face tightening miserably. "You read it?"  
  
"We all did. I'm glad Heero told you that, even if it was too late. At least now you know for sure how he felt about you. And I believe that it means he knew what you felt for him."  
  
"It wasn't enough, though, was it?" Duo whispered. "It was never enough."  
  
Trowa had no answer for that, and the desolation in Duo's face and voice were more than he had strength left to deal with. Rising wearily, he headed for the door. "Sleep now, Duo. I'll be just down the hall if you need me."  
  
"'K." He had that little boy voice going again. "Hey, Tro?"  
  
Trowa paused and looked back.  
  
"The answer is yes. I promise. Shinigami's honor. Next time, my ass is yours. Thanks, buddy."  
  
"De nada, Duo. De nada. Hush now, and go to sleep now. Things are going to get better. I promise."


	3. Soldier On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

It had only been a matter of time, Trowa thought, watching Duo slowly undress in the bare, candlelit room. The early June nights were still cool on the coast and the cottage was a little chilly. Duo's fair skin prickled into goose bumps and his nipples were already hard little points. At Duo's request, Trowa was wearing his black leather pants and vest, and the studded wrist guards Quatre had made for him. Quatre had offered to help, but Duo had blushed and said no thank you. Doing this with any of his friends was difficult enough. One at a time was all he could handle.   
  
Naked at last except for the tiny spandex thong Trowa had given him, he reached for the end of his braid, silently asking with downcast eyes if he should loosen it.  
  
"No, leave it," Trowa ordered, keeping his voice a careful monotone. He felt very nervous, a little off balance, but he would not allow himself to show it. Duo needed him to be strong; that was the whole point. 'Duo asked for this,' he reminded himself. 'He kept his promise and asked.'  
  
+  
  
Dr. Batoosingh kept Duo on the psych ward for almost three weeks before releasing him into Trowa and Quatre's custody, and even then he'd been anything but optimistic.   
  
A massive search of Kyoto had turned up next to nothing. A few witnesses from a slum district reported remembering someone matching Heero's description at a soup kitchen, and others thought they'd seen him at a veteran's clinic in the same area, but no one remembered speaking with him or hearing him speak. The morgues had no one matching his description. Neither did the hospitals, homeless shelters, or psychiatric wards. Wufei went Earth side with a special Preventer task force, but stayed off camera as much as possible.   
  
All the same the "former Gundam boys" were in the news once again, war era photos and more recent news clips running 24 hours a day. Heero's suicide became a given, despite the lack of a body, and with it came all the rest of the old news from the last year and a half, rehashed once again: Quatre standing half naked on the steps of the Winner Corporation Headquarters, stoned out of his mind and ranting incoherently; various shots of Duo being carried into or emerging from psych wards and rehabs; Trowa and Quatre--"Gundam's Kinkiest Toy Boys!"-- caught leaving a particularly notorious sex club in their first days of experimentation; Wufei punching yet another cameramen. Pundits happily debated their motivations and seemed equally split on whether the Gundam boys were the damaged victims of a heartless militaristic society or spoiled brat delinquents.   
  
  
Perhaps because Heero had managed to remain invisible to the end, and died tragically, he alone remained blameless. Photos of the thin, scowling boy he'd been ran next to clips of him standing solemnly in uniform behind Relena, working security with Wufei. They looked calm and heroic, if grim and the eulogies were full of praise.  
  
As the weeks rolled on and no body was found, the rest of them were gradually demoted to "lost boy" status by comparison. Sickened and concerned at the effect it was having on Duo, Quatre bleached his hair back to blond, took out his facial piercings and called a press conference. Now at least the press vultures had some new footage: Quatre Winner-Barton, looking surprisingly mature as he gazed earnestly into the cameras with those winsome blue eyes, pleading for understanding and privacy. "We gave a lot. We've had a hard time adjusting and the loss of our friend and teammate is devastating beyond words. All we ask is the privacy to heal." The press ate it up. "Leave the Gundam Boys Alone!" the major news outlets trumpeted, as if they hadn't been the ones broadcasting Quatre's leather-clad fall from grace to the four corners of the galaxy in the first place.  
  
But it wasn't enough. They were all stressed and depressed. Wufei submerged back into his job. Quatre cried a lot. Duo became even more withdrawn despite an increase in his medication, seldom leaving the trailer they shared. Exhausted, grieving, and distracted by his friends' problems, Trowa missed an easy high wire flip catch during a show and nearly made the obituary pages himself. He caught a guy rope in time, keeping the injuries to raw palms and a sprained finger, but Catherine pulled him from the show, with orders to take a vacation.  
  
After some grumbling and debate, the three of them went Earth-side to stay at a summerhouse Quatre's family owned on a remote section of old Cape Cod. Built by Quatre's grandmother during a nostalgia craze, it was modeled on the 19th century "cottages" that had once dotted the shoreline. Modest by Raberba Winner standards, the rambling, shingle-sided frame house had only five bedrooms, in addition to the large parlor, sitting room, and library downstairs, a pillared wrap around veranda on three sides overlooking the sea, and no servants. It had cupolas and a tower and a widow's walk with a wrought iron railing on the roof, which Duo claimed with grim humor was the place for him, though the others didn't like him being up there alone.   
  
Security was limited to discreetly -placed perimeter sensors and a gatekeeper's cottage half a mile down a sandy stretch of road. It was June now, not yet the high season, and they had the beach to themselves. Miles from the closest village or neighbor, they tried to find a routine.   
  
It wasn't easy. Only Quatre had ever been on an actual vacation before. They built beach fires, took long walks --always with a careful eye out for paparazzi lurking in the dunes--read books, learned to cook lobster and steam clams, watched movies and generally tried to figure out what normal life might be.   
  
Duo kept up with his therapy sessions three times a week by vid-phone. His progress had stalled however; he might not be in immediate danger, but he was not happy, either. He was unusually quiet. They spoke of Heero sometimes, but Trowa had the strong impression, which Quatre was quick to verify, that Duo was holding something back, something from their shared past that was too painful to touch. Dr. Batoosingh had also picked up on this, but no amount of gentle coaxing worked. Duo would just clam up, looking sad and lost, and tell them it didn't matter, that it was nothing, that he just missed Heero. He didn't lapse back into drinking or show any signs of hurting himself. But he wasn't cheering up, either.  
  
Dr. B made regular reports to Trowa and Quatre, who were the closest thing to next of kin Duo had. He did not order Duo back to L-4 yet, but advised them to keep him under close observation until further notice. They already had that covered. At Quatre's insistence, Duo slept in their bed with them at night, spooned between them; in return, he graciously made himself scarce during the day when the couple needed time for intimacy.   
  
Far from putting a strain in their relationship, Trowa and Quatre found themselves drawn together more closely than ever. Their lovemaking grew more tender, with less reliance on "toys" or mind games. They also rediscovered the pleasure of music, playing together for the first time since the war. Quatre had always been something of a virtuoso on the violin; Trowa played flute by ear, but well and from the heart. They began with old classics, but gradually found themselves drifting by unspoken agreement into long sessions of improvisation. The music they made together was often melancholy, yet it ached with shared emotion and often ended in lovemaking on the carpet of the "music room" as Duo dubbed the guest room they used.  
  
Some nights they took their instruments to the beach and played for Duo around driftwood fires under the stars. One recent such night, when their improvisations had grown almost fevered, skirling like bats on the night air, Duo rose, pulled off his sweatshirt, and danced on the sand, eyes half closed, arms reaching out to some unseen partner. The others played on, mesmerized by the unexpected sinuous grace of their friend's movements. They'd danced with him before, in clubs, but never seen anything like this. This was slow and fluid, the way he moved, hips circling languidly, hair suddenly loose around him. It reached nearly to his waist now and swung like silken drapery around him as he circled the fire. His worn jeans hung low on his hips, only the wide studded belt keeping them from sliding off. His bare feet traced patterns in the sand, silver-painted toenails glimmering like little seashells. He had no tattoos, no piercings. In this light, dancing and swaying, he looked pure, untouched, like an angel. No, he was far too sexual to be angel, Trowa thought, feeling the heat rising under his own skin as he played on. Some sensual primordial spirit in ripped denim. Except for the dark tufts of hair under his arms and the fine little trail under his navel, he was as smooth as a girl, just like the rest of them.   
  
It went on and on, this dance, until Duo stumbled and fell to his knees, hands limp on either side of him. Trowa lowered his flute and went to him, wrapping his arms around him, feeling the way Duo's heart was pounding, and the sweat cooling on his bare skin. Quatre joined them and suddenly they were all kissing and stroking and crying a little. It was the closest they'd come to three-way love making since their early days of clubbing, but as always, Duo quietly drew away from anything beyond affectionate touching. In the end they'd all gone to bed together, with no word spoken about what had transpired on the beach. Trowa felt a little sad, a little guilty and wondered not for the first time if his relationship with Quatre had room for a third lover. Yet it was always Duo who held back. Even now, he seemed to waiting for Heero. Perhaps old habits died hard.  
  
+  
  
It was the night after the beach dancing that Duo suddenly looked up from his untouched plate of spaghetti with tears in his eyes and said, "Trowa, I'm ready to keep my promise now."  
  
And so here they were, in this disused bedroom, Trowa in leather, Duo in that protective thong, kneeling on all fours on the dusty Persian carpet before him. The bedstead leaned up against the far wall. The only other item of furniture, a sturdy, straight-backed wooden chair, stood nearby. A fire crackled and smoked in the small brick fireplace, but the heat hadn't spread to the room yet. The glow of it turned Duo's skin to gold, though, and glinted over his shining hair.  
  
Trowa admired the view for a moment longer, and then opened the duffle bag he'd brought, selecting a few implements and laying them out where Duo could see them. He'd been to enough clubs with him to know what his friend liked, though it had been a longstanding agreement that while they might watch each other "play" they never partnered. It was not intimacy that Duo needed now, but release.   
  
Trowa watched him closely, trying to gauge which paddle or crop his friend's gaze seemed to linger on the most. He touched a wide leather paddle and Duo nodded, then closed his eyes and lowered his head onto his folded arms. Trowa knelt beside him for a moment, rubbing Duo's smooth back and upraised ass, warming his skin and waking him to sensation. "I love you, Duo, and I do this for you. I won't damage you. I will decide when you've had enough unless you tell me first. Do you agree?"  
  
"Yes, Trowa." Muffled, but clear.  
  
"What is your safe stop word?"  
  
"Starfish."  
  
"And the pause word?"  
  
"Blue sky."  
  
"And you promise to use them if I hurt you too much."  
  
"Yes, I promise. Please, Tro?"  
  
Trowa stroked a hand down Duo's back again, stroked his braid where it lay coiled beside him, then rose with the paddle. Duo's position gave him easy access to his sensitive buttocks and thighs; the thong held his genitals safely forward out of harm's way. This was the safest area of the body to work on and he didn't have any intention of going further a field tonight.  
  
He started light, letting Duo get used to the feeling, then slowly increased the strength of his swings, distributing the blows to redden the skin as uniformly as possible. He didn't intend to leave welts or undue bruising if he could help it.  
  
Duo tensed at first, then visibly relaxed into the rhythm of the paddling, there was no sound except the steady "thwack" of leather on bare skin, and Duo's faint gasps. After only ten minutes, by the large clock Trowa had positioned nearby, Duo said, "blue sky."  
  
Trowa stopped immediately and knelt by him again. Duo kept his face turned away, but his voice was shaking as he whispered, "It's not enough."   
  
Trowa nodded. He'd anticipated this. It had only been intended as a warm up. Placing the paddle neatly back in the lineup, he picked up a wooden-handled hairbrush, grasped Duo by the braid, and drew him over to the chair. Trowa sat and used the braid to pull Duo across his lap. It was awkward, since they were more or less the same height, but Trowa secured him in place by catching Duo's ankles between his own, then twisting the braid around his left hand and grasping Duo's wrists with it, drawing them sharply up behind his back.   
  
The brush stung much more than the paddle and he swung it harder, with no warm up. Angry red marks bloomed like dark roses across the already pink skin of his buttocks. Duo bucked and cried out, fighting the pain and restraint but not using either safe word. Trowa spanked him harder, holding him down as he flailed. He listened carefully as Duo first whimpered, then cried out at each blow. Trowa seldom used Quatre this roughly, but Quatre didn't need the pain, just to be overpowered. Duo's cries turned to screeches, then curses, then a steady wailing keen as he went limp across Trowa's lap. Trowa dropped the hairbrush and used his open hand now. The flesh under his palm was hot, stippled with little welts and ridges, but no broken skin. He kept the smacks hard, aiming for the sensitive spot at the top of the thighs just under the curve of the buttocks. He knew from experience that this really hurt. Duo struggled again, cried out, then burst into sobs, fighting Trowa's grip. Trowa didn't let up until the sobs tapered off to ragged weeping and Duo was limp again. This was the magic point he'd been working for.   
  
Releasing Duo's wrists and legs, Trowa gathered him into his arms, stroking Duo's back in long, comforting strokes. Absolutely spent and helpless, Duo clung to him, weeping weakly against Trowa's neck. He was trying to speak through the tears, and Trowa finally made out "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" whispered over and over like a prayer.  
  
Trowa rocked him, soothing and murmuring, until Duo was calm, then lifted him down to the floor and sat behind him. Undoing the braid, he gently brushed Duo's hair. Duo was half asleep and nearly purring with pleasure by the time he was done.   
  
"Thank you, Trowa!" he whispered again, leaning back into him, eyes closed.   
  
"You're welcome, Duo." Leaving the toys behind, Trowa lifted the young man in his arms and carried him to bed, where Quatre was waiting for them.  
  
One look at Duo's contented expression was enough for the empath. Smiling, Quatre spooned in behind him, and reached across for Trowa's hand. Trowa cuddled in close and enfolded them both with his long arms. The workout had gone better than he'd hoped. Duo seemed genuinely at peace. Though not driven to desire Duo, the whole experience had aroused Trowa more than he'd expected and the touch of Quatre's hand against his arm sent a pang of longing through him. It was too soon to leave Duo, even asleep; Trowa wondered if he'd be able to sleep this horny. It wasn't easy, but he finally drifted off.   
  
The touch of warm fingers on his cheek woke Trowa just before dawn. He opened his eyes to find Duo smiling at him at close range, those violet blue eyes sleepy and languid.   
  
"You're a good friend, Tro. So am I. So I'm going to go have a soak and make some breakfast. No worries, I promise. Shinigami's honor." With that, he nudged a thigh against Trowa's aching morning erection, gave him a wink, and slid out from between them, leaving him alone with Quatre.   
  
He thought his lover was still asleep, but the minute the door closed behind Duo, Quatre snuggled close, slipping both their sweatpants off and nuzzling his way down to take Trowa's cock in his mouth. Still wired from last night, Trowa groaned happily, head lolling against the pillow. He reached to wind his fingers gently in Quatre's silky hair, blond again with emerald green tipping, and caressed him lovingly, enjoying that head moving against him under his hand. Just when he thought the sensations couldn't get any better, Quatre pulled off, pressed a tube of lube into Trowa's hand, and turned to nestle his delectable little backside against his damp, throbbing cock.   
  
Trowa could hear the faint sound of running water down the hall, and Duo's voice, singing.   
  
"Letting us know not to worry." Quatre giggled, squirming as Trowa's lubricated fingers found his entrance and stretched it, preparing the way.   
  
"A good friend." Trowa sighed, sinking into his lover's hot, tight body and pulling him close. "Ah! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh yeah!"   
  
Quatre softly echoed him, rocking back against Trowa's lap, inviting him deeper. After a long, delicious time of this, he shifted them both so that Trowa was kneeling behind him, then turned to give Trowa a scorchingly sultry look over his shoulder. "Hard, baby. Real hard."  
  
Trowa happily obliged. Even as he pounded them both toward a screaming release, however, he thought, "Duo needs someone to give him this. But who?"  
  
Then the first wave of climax took him, sweeping away all conscious thought.   
  
They'd shared another, gentler orgasm and lay panting and glowing under the covers when Duo waltzed in with a large breakfast tray of pancakes, soy bacon and coffee. He was wearing nothing but a grin and a frilly apron they'd found in a drawer. At Quatre's laughing insistence, he slid into bed with them to eat. He was beside Quatre, Trowa noted. It was almost as if he wanted to even things out, after his session with Trowa the night before. In Duo logic it probably made sense: get spanked by Trowa, cuddle with Quatre. He had dark circles under his eyes and his backside looked seriously red and bruised, but he seemed almost his old self today.  
  
"What sort of headlines do you think this would get us?" Quatre speculated with a grin. Trowa tried to imagine but his hormone-riddled brain drew a blank.   
  
Duo snickered and choked on a swallow of coffee. "Former Gundam Boy Unable to Sit Down For a Week?"  
  
"So, did it work?" Quatre asked, stealing Trowa's last strip of bacon.   
  
Duo kissed him on the cheek. "Yeah, it did. Thanks for lending me your boyfriend."  
  
"Husband," Quatre corrected with a grin, flicking the expensive gold ring through Trowa's left nipple with a finger. He loved saying it out loud, even though the legal term was still the more ambiguous "partner". "Anytime."  
  
"Hey!" Trowa objected with mock outrage. "What am I now, Rent-A-Top?"  
  
Quatre tweaked the ring again, making Trowa squirm. "You know what I meant, lover. Besides, it was your idea!"   
  
Duo shook his head. "No, it wouldn't be right. I mean, it helped and I really appreciate it, but I think I need to talk to Dr. B. I can't keep expecting you two to baby me. You're wonderful and I love you, but it's not fair to you, guys. You've already done so much for me."  
  
Quatre shrugged, but Trowa nodded silent agreement. It had been therapeutic, even downright hot. He wouldn't mind doing it again now and then, as needed. But unless they made a threesome official, with full conjugal rights for Duo, it wasn't fair. And it wasn't a long term, healthy solution. Duo needed a lover all his own, someone he and the rest of them could trust and rely on. But again came the question; who? Who outside the four of them fit that bill? No one. And Wufei wasn't a candidate, that was for sure. Trowa sighed. He and Quatre needed to talk about this in private.  
  
"Ya know we've been here almost a month?" Duo said at last, snuggling down to rest his head on Quatre's shoulder. "Maybe we should think about getting back. Catherine needs her headliner, right Tro? And I can't keep sponging off you forever."  
  
"Yeah, but a few more days won't matter. And you know you're not sponging," Trowa replied. A few headlines had suggested that, though Duo's war pension and disability checks, together with the money from the magazine spreads, were enough to keep him going, even if he couldn't work. He'd contributed to the food budget and pulled his own weight with chores. He was good company, too. But it was understandable for him not to see it that way, Trowa supposed. "I want to see that beach dance of yours again before we go."  
  
Duo grinned and reached to stroke Trowa's dark bangs back from his forehead, hugging Quatre in the process. "Anything for you, Mr. Barton-Winner, sir. I like the music you two make together."  
  
The way he said it suggested that it wasn't just the violin and flute duets he was referring to. Quatre blushed and laughed.


	4. Dear Heero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Dear Heero,  
  
You've been gone--like, really gone--for five months now. Sometimes it seems like forever. Sometimes it seems like I saw you yesterday. I dream about you a lot. I'm living with Tro and Quatre at the circus for now. I sell tickets and paint kid's faces and help Quatre make costumes. I'm pretty good. They're married, if you can believe that. I was the bridesmaid. Wufei was shocked. You probably would have been, too, though you could have been the best man. Tro would have asked you, you know, if you'd been here to ask.  
  
This letter was Dr. B's dumb idea, so don't laugh. He claims that answering that holocard you sent might do me some good, even though you've done a better than average job of keeping your address secret. Really outdid yourself this time, you asshole.  
  
That sounds kind of angry, doesn't it? But I'm not allowed to erase anything. I promised I'd just keep writing. I don't have to show this to anyone if I don't want to, so I can say anything to you I want.   
  
I love you too, you idiot. I always loved you one way or another. I just didn't think you could love me back. Not that you wouldn't, just that you didn't know how. What's this bullshit then? I love you, Duo. What's that mean, huh? I mean, why would you stay away like that and then tell me that when you were only going to off yourself and go away for good, huh? I swear to god if you were here right now I'd shoot you in the leg again. OK, I am angry. Fuck it, I'm fucking furious with you, you prick! Did you think that would make it easier, to finally get those words from you and then have you die? Fuck you, Heero Yuy. Fuck you and your training and your duty and all that perfect soldier shit.   
  
Shit. It wasn't your fault, OK? Any more than it was my fault getting born in the slums. Neither of us chose but what am I supposed to do now, go piss on J's grave? I might just do that some time. I'll shit on it like a dog.  
  
But not yours. I wish I could put flowers on your grave. That's one of the reasons I'm mad and hurt for the way you did it. If you had to go and die on me, then why can't I have somewhere I can go where some part of you is, even if it's just the bones, and lay down and cry until my tears soak down through the dirt to touch you? Didn't I at least rate that much consideration? Great, now I'm crying again and that's your fault too, god damn it! No one has ever made me cry as much as you, Heero Yuy, so I guess it must be love, right?   
  
Of course I love you! Why didn't I grab you and hold you down and tell you that over and over again until you got it? Why did I let you slip away like that? I could have gone to you when you were with Relena but I was so sick and tired from it all and it always seemed like tomorrow was soon enough. I guess I was a little pissed even then that you chose being around her over being with me. And then you were gone! Oh Heero, I'm so sorry!   
  
Did you think I didn't care? That I'd forgotten about that night? I never did. I thought you meant what you said, though, about it being a mistake. You seemed so shocked, so angry with yourself and you wouldn't listen! I wish I could go back to that night and get my head clear enough to figure out better what I was feeling so I could have helped you. God, I wish you'd gone through with it, young and confused as we both were. I wish you'd just done me, even if it did hurt. Even if we did it wrong and totally messed it up. Just to not be left with nothing but the memory of the guilt in your eyes. Even fear. That's the only time I ever saw you look afraid of anything and it was yourself. Or was it me? Maybe I scared you. I guess it doesn't matter now. We fucked up, huh?  
  
Fuck, I can hardly see to write now but I just can't stop. Damn you, Dr. B, if you read this. Is this supposed to make me feel better? I feel like shit! Fucking shit! Now I have to go have Trowa beat the sadness and fear out of me again and frankly, it's more than a little embarrassing to ask for it, even if he is such a good sport about it. He and Kat both. They are such good friends. They'd have taken care of you, too, Heero, if it wasn't me you wanted. That would have been OK. OK, maybe that's not really true. But fucking better than this hell, anyway.  
  
God I wish you'd fucked me that night. I didn't think you'd ever get around to trying again, but I saved myself for you anyway. I still can't give it up to anyone. How stupid is that? Still waiting for Mr. Right, even though there's only one Mr. Right and now you're gone and you never wanted it anyway. I am such a fool. And I'm still angry at you and that hurts because all I want is to feel the love I have for you. I can't even take comfort in that because it wasn't enough and I'm angry and thinking about you just brings back all the pain and every dream I have about you is about almost getting to you and not making it or thinking I see you on some city street and following and chasing and going through all sorts of difficulties and shit and then when I finally get to you and you turn around it's not even you. It's some stranger. Those are the worst. Even when I'm awake sometimes it happens. It happened today on the way here to Dr. B's. I actually followed the guy for six or seven blocks before he turned a corner and I saw that he wasn't you. I mean, I knew that it probably wasn't but I couldn't not follow him. But it wasn't and when I saw it wasn't I sat down on some total stranger's stoop and cried, right there in the street. Probably be in the news. Everything else is. I can't even get a job except for what Trowa gets me because of the fucking reporters. Not much for "former Gundam boys" with serious mental problems to do. I'm going to be one of those crazy vets with a three-legged dog, collecting shopping carts full of beer cans and old shoes.   
  
Maybe you had the right idea, Heero. If I thought you'd be waiting for me on the other side, maybe I'd take that leap one more time, for real, no mistakes this time. But last time I didn't see any tunnel or bright light. I didn't see Solo or Sister Helen waiting for me. Maybe I didn't get far enough that time. I don't know but I'm not quite ready to find out. Not today. That's my anti-suicide motto, by the way. Not today. That's it. Pretty simple, huh? I wish you'd given me your address so I could have sent it to you. I wish you'd trusted me enough to give me your fucking address, you shit!  
  
Sometimes when I'm really down I think maybe you hated me and wanted to stay away because of that. But why did you keep writing? You're not the kind to do it out of cruelty. I mean, those emails didn't say much, but you did always say you hoped I was well. I'd rather you'd have come see for yourself that I'm not. But you didn't do it to be mean. I'm sane enough to know that. I still remember you well enough to know that you didn't operate that way. Killing yourself? There's plenty of precedent for that, but you were never mean. People though you were cold, emotionless, but I knew it was just you being you. Being Yuy. See, I can still crack a joke. I'm not done with life as long as I can still do that, maybe?   
  
Well, my hour is almost up with the doc and I've used up all the tissues, yet again. He sees me cry a lot, the doc does. Guess it helps a little. I wish you could have talked to him. He even said he wished he could have helped you. He wouldn't say that lightly, Heero. He's as honest as I am and never bullshits. Why didn't you let someone help you? He says maybe you did. He says for all we know, maybe you had a boyfriend or a wife or some whole other life, but I don't think so. I think you were alone. If you were so happy with someone else you either would have told me because let's face it, you wouldn't have known how to be tactful, or you would have just stopped writing to me. You were alone, more alone than me. At least I've got the guys. You could have been with us. Why weren't you with us?   
  
Guess I'm still pissed at you, Heero, but I love you and I'll always love you and I fucking wish you were here with me right now, even if it was just for you to give me one of those pissed-off looks of yours. I wish I could tease you about that to your face. I wish you were here. I wish I had somewhere to send this. The empty feeling inside me just seems to get bigger and bigger the more I write so I don't know what good this is doing, except that it makes me feel like you're really there to hear me and it makes it hard to stop. Guess Trowa's arm will be sore before he's done with me tonight. I wonder, if you were here, if you'd want to do things like that. Then again, would I need it? I don't know.   
  
I love you Heero. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll always, always love you.   
  
Love forever,  
  
Duo[  
](http://raygunworks.net/pyrzm.html)


	5. Dear Duo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Former Gundam Boy . . .  
  
It was like coming out of heavy fog. He was hungry. He was sick. He smelled bad and his clothes were very ragged and dirty and he was cold. He was outside, in the rain, in fresh air.   
  
He was on Earth.  
  
He wasn't quite certain why, or what his name was, or where he was, exactly. But the words on the scrap of yellowing newsprint fluttering in the gutter drew him like a beacon. A bit of headline, partway down a page: Former Gundam Boy . . .  
  
It was like some code he knew. Limping closer, he picked up the scrap and tried to read it. It was in Spanish. He could read Spanish. All right. A line at the top of the page told him the newspaper had been published in Madrid almost six months ago. But the words that had caught his eye were in English. He could read that, too. Former Gundam Boy Duo Maxwell Hospitalized.  
  
Part of the article had been torn away, but he made out another name, and the phrase Former Gundam pilot, in Spanish this time. ". . . since the apparent suicide of former Gundam pilot Heero Yuy . . ."  
  
Heero Yuy.  
  
Six months ago.  
  
Oh, damn.  
  
+  
  
"Hey Trowa, the wife needs you!"  
  
Trowa glared down at Catherine from the platform. He disliked that little joke among the company almost as much as he disliked being interrupted at practice. But she looked worried. He slid down the guy rope to meet her, not wanting to shout a conversation back and forth for all to hear. "What is it?"  
  
"I'm not sure. I think Duo's going off the rails again. They're at the trailer."  
  
He didn't wait to hear more. He found them sitting on the couch together in the front room of the trailer, staring at something on Duo's laptop screen. Both of them looked stricken. Trowa sat down beside Quatre and wrapped an arm around him, trying to see. "What is it, love? What's wrong?"  
  
It was Duo who answered. Pushing the computer onto Trowa's knees, he whispered, "Do you think it could be true?"  
  
It was an email, dated today.  
  
_To: ShinigamiFlyBoy@privatesky.net_  
 _From: Guestuser001345@SanqueEmbassy.madrid.gov_  
 _01 September 198_  
 _03:05 am L4 time_  
  
_Dear Duo:_  
  
_I hope this reaches you. I am at the Sanque Embassy in Madrid, Spain. I made them let me send this to you before they take me to the hospital._  
  
_I tried to call, but your number is not in service. That scares me. Please reply to this address ASAP if you receive this. I don't seem to have my computer anymore, or any of my other things, but they will let me check email here. They have assured me this is a secure line, but I do not intend to trust that, for obvious reasons._  
  
_I don't know how to begin. I think I have been very sick. I may have tried to kill myself, but quite honestly, I don't remember. I saw in an old newspaper that you were very sick again and the date seems to coincide with my reported death. If that was the cause, I'm very sorry. I don't know what happened, but I will find some way to make it up to you. They aren't giving me time to do a proper online search but I'm told you're alive._  
  
_I have been mentally ill for some time now. Dangerously so. That's why I left. That's why I stayed away. I do not wish to say more in this format. I will tell you more later. I think I am much better now. I think I am, but I do not trust my judgment yet. I will keep you informed._  
  
_I am sorry if I caused you any pain. I am safe and seeking treatment. I will keep in touch. Please email me at this address for now, or call the embassy. I must go now. There is an escort waiting. I hope they can keep this out of the news for a while. We have all been in the news too much, don't you think?_  
  
_Heero_  
  
Duo was fighting back tears. Quatre looked at Trowa, eyes filled with pained, cautious hope. "Do you think it's really him?"   
  
Trowa read it again, and then one more time, parsing each sentence, trying to hear the words in Heero's voice. "I think it could be him."  
  
"Really?" Duo grabbed the laptop back, hungrily rereading the message. "Why, Tro? What makes you believe it? I believe it, but god, I want to! But there have been so many fakes already . . ."  
  
There had been a lot for a while, some obvious hoaxes, others cruelly well done enough to leave them all reeling. Wufei had set up a special task force to investigate and prosecute the hoaxers and they had tapered off. But this one looked different.  
  
"Well, he has your private address and the access code to send to it. That's a first. But this line here: 'They have assured me this is a secure line, but I do not intend to trust that, for obvious reasons.' Who does that sound like?"  
  
Duo clicked on "Reply." He was muttering under his breath, even before he started typing and Trowa caught ". . . doesn't remember. He didn't say it, didn't say it."


	6. Adrift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero woke up in a small hospital room, an IV of Ringers dripping into his arm. That explained his painfully full bladder. He sat up, looking around for the bathroom. His mouth tasted stale, with a vague chemical tang. The admitting ER physician had ordered some sedative in Spanish and Heero hadn't understood the word in time to refuse it. He wondered why they had thought it necessary.   
  
Where the hell am I?  
  
The bed he was in was comfortable and clean, and he had a view of a park with a lake and some monuments. It appeared to be very early in the morning. A faint pink glow lit the sky beyond the eastern horizon. There were swans on the lake, floating in pairs with their heads still under their wings. Early morning.   
  
There were bars on his windows and an observation porthole in the door. A crucifix hung over the door, and a sign in Spanish.  
  
Madrid. I'm in Madrid.   
  
My name is Heero Yuy and I'm in Madrid.  
  
He was certain that was all true, but he felt very odd, as if reality could slip its frame at any minute. Because-  
  
Because it had, and more than once.   
  
I've been sick. Very sick.   
  
Someone had bathed him while he slept, and he had on clean pajamas. His cheek itched and when he reached to scratch it he discovered he had a beard. He had various patches of rash on his body, too. Some of it appeared to be ringworm. Some sort of antiseptic cream had been applied to these; there was a greasy sheen on his skin and he could smell it. Other patches looked like healed frostbite. His nails were cracked and broken and still far too dirty for his liking. Lifting one foot, he saw with distaste that it was thickly callused and stained. He was very thin. His ribs and hipbones stuck out and his muscles were wasted and slack. Yes, he must have been a vagrant for some time, one of those poor lost souls wandering the streets, eating from dumpsters, living in alleyways--- Memory began to trickle back in little flashes and glimpses. He'd been on the streets, cold and dirty. He'd walked long distances, and stolen rides on transports and been very confused, even afraid sometimes. Then he'd seen something, something that reminded him-  
  
The newspaper. Grasping the IV pole, he wheeled it along with him to the closet next to the tiny bathroom attached to his room. A large plastic bag held his personal effects. Dumping it out, he pushed the smelly rags aside in distaste and found the scrap of newspaper.  
  
Former Gundam Boy Duo Maxwell Hospitalized.  
  
"Duo," he whispered, stroking the words. "Did you get my email, Duo?"  
  
He looked around in frustration. No phone. No computer. The man at the embassy promised he'd be able to check email. He fought down a fresh spike of panic. Someone yesterday had told him Duo was alive. Yes, he was quite certain of that. Unless he'd dreamed it---  
  
He spied a red call button over his bed and pressed it, then made his way into the bathroom. There was no door, and the mirror over the sink was a sheet of polished metal bolted to the wall.  
  
Location confirmed. Pysch ward, he noted with rising unease.   
  
He emptied his bladder, then went to the sink and washed his hands. Examining his face in the mirror, he didn't blame them for committing him. He hardly recognized himself. He was terribly thin, with hollows around his eyes, and under his cheekbones. His dark hair was wild and shaggy. The beard was equally unattractive, thin and patchy and several inches long. Not a military beard, but that of a madman, a vagrant. Looking into his own eyes, he tried to gauge his mental state. They were red rimmed and bloodshot, but his gaze appeared normal. It was his normal expression. Many people thought he was scowling when he looked like that, but it was just the way he looked. All the same, it would be unwise to self diagnose. Still, he felt calm, apart from the slight claustrophobia of knowing he was locked in.   
  
But that beard? He'd been clean-shaven, last he remembered. Or so he thought. What did he remember last?  
  
Not much. His brain felt wrapped in cotton. The sedatives, no doubt. He hated those. He rinsed his mouth with water from the tap, and then wheeled the IV back to the bed. It was bolted down, too, as was the side table. No chair. A cell, perhaps?  
  
He got back in bed and pulled the blankets up. He hoped they'd let him shave. The beard itched and made him feel like someone else. How long would it take to grow a beard like that?   
  
Last thing I remember is---   
  
He seemed to recall sitting in a temple or church of some sort. He closed his eyes and tried to summon visualization. There had been bells-- tinkling softly somewhere nearby, and chanting, and the smell of incense. At the front of the room was-what? A crucifix? No. Something else-a man, seated and a beautiful woman standing on a lotus, pouring something from a jar--- and he'd been holding a knife-  
  
Japan. He'd been in Japan. He'd been in a Buddhist temple at night, holding a knife and a bottle of pills.   
  
'Why there?' he wondered vaguely. 'I'm not religious.'  
  
A knife and a bottle of pills.  
  
He looked down at his wrists. Sure enough, there were long scars on both that hadn't been there before; duel white lines running parallel to the bones and tendons. It appeared he'd cut deep. But apparently not deeply enough to thwart his body's exceptional healing ability. It had been rather a foolish method to use. What had he been thinking? No clue. Move on. What had the pills been? A back up plan? A guarantee? He couldn't recall if he'd taken them or not, or what they'd been. He thought he remembered a label-a prescription? He tried to visualize that, but nothing came.  
  
The door rattled and a woman in the plain grey habit of a nursing sister entered carrying a breakfast tray. She smiled when she saw he was awake. "Oh good, you are up already!" She spoke English, but with a thick Spanish accent. "You must be very hungry."  
  
"Am I being held here?"  
  
"Held? No, Capitan Yuy, you signed yourself in for treatment last night. Your care has been authorized under your Preventers HMO. We were able to find the records and your former employer vouched for you. You do not remember?"  
  
He remembered the long, frustrating search for the embassy-he'd had no money for transportation--and how hard it had been to convince the guards at the gate to let him through. He'd been made to wait on the curb while they consulted with some superior inside. They hadn't believed him when he'd told them who he was. But something had happened to convince them, apparently, because a young man claiming to be the junior ambassador came out personally and interviewed him, relaying his answers to various questions into a mobile phone. He'd already guessed it might be Relena on the other end before the man handed him the phone.   
  
"Heero?" She'd sounded much older than she had two years ago, and her voice trembled with emotion.   
  
"Yes, Relena, it is me."   
  
A gasp. "Say you will kill me."  
  
"Omae o korosu." Heero had glanced at the armed men around him, wondering if any of them spoke Japanese, and what they would make of such a comment. No one seemed concerned.  
  
"Heero! I'll come at once-"  
  
"No, do not do that. The press will follow you. I'm not ready for that yet. Please instruct the people here to not alert them?"  
  
"Oh. Yes, of course." She was disappointed but saw the wisdom in what he said. He did not want to be seen coming back from the dead looking like this.  
  
After that things had moved very quickly. He was sick and it was an effort to stay alert. They'd wanted to take him to the hospital at once. Somehow he'd convinced them to let him send the email to Duo first. He couldn't recall the details, but he remembered shouting at someone at some point.  
  
The nurse pulled a fold-up table out from the frame of his bed and put the tray on it. Pulling a plastic graduated urinal from under the bed, she held it out to him. "If you please, Captain?"  
  
"I already urinated," Heero informed her, pointing to the bathroom. "It was--a lot."  
  
"Very good. Then you do not need this anymore." She slipped the IV needle from his arm and patted a bandage strip decorated with pandas over the little puncture. "Eat what you can and drink all the water and juice."   
  
Heero ignored the tray. "May I use a computer in here?"  
  
"No, that is against the rules, but perhaps this is what you are looking for?" She pulled some folded papers from the pocket of her skirt and gave them to him. "The junior ambassador himself delivered these while you were sleeping. If you wish to send a reply, arrangement will be made. Ring me if you need anything else. And remember to drink! You were very dehydrated."  
  
"Thank you, Sister. I will. And Sister? I would very much like to shave."  
  
She smiled again. Her face was very kind. "I will make arrangements."  
  
He waited until she was gone, then unfolded the papers. They were email printouts. He read the first header, then had to blink and rub his eyelids before he could continue. Something had blurred the words on the page. It was probably a lingering effect of the damned sedative.   
  
The first read:  
  
_To: Guestuser001345@SanqueEmbassy.madrid.gov_  
 _From: ShinigamiFlyBoy@privatesky.net_  
 _01 September 198_  
 _05:17 pm L4 time_  
  
  
_Dear Heero:_  
  
_Duo here. Yes, I am OK! Message received. Sorry for the delay; I don't check my mail very often._  
  
_Stay in Madrid. Repeat. Stay in Madrid and let them take care of you. I'm going to call R and 05 right now and see how fast I can get down there. I will call you at the hospital or the embassy. I'll be there ASAP. Stay there!_  
  
_Love,_  
 _Duo_  
____  
  
  
Love, Duo. Heero blinked again, then closed his eyes and gripped the windowsill beside him as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Duo was OK. He was on his way.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he read the second email, which, he noted, had followed less than an hour later.  
  
_To: Guestuser001345@SanqueEmbassy.madrid.gov_  
 _From: ShinigamiFlyBoy@privatesky.net_  
 _01 September 198_  
 _05:59 pm L4 time_  
  
_Dear Heero:_  
  
_Tried to reach you at the hospital but they won't let any calls in to that ward you're in. I have no reply from you and don't know if you'll get this, but my doc is contacting your doc to straighten things out. R is arranging transport. We leave in 1 hr. Should be there for breakfast. Order pancakes for me, ok buddy? ;-) Hang in there. We'll be there soon, I promise!_  
  
_Love,_  
 _Duo_  
 _And Trowa, Quatre, and Wuffie._  
____  
  
  
Heero wiped his eyes again, grinning at the mangling of 05's name. Whatever put Duo in the hospital again, he must have recovered. He sounded the same as ever.  
  
Heero folded the emails and slipped them carefully into the breast pocket of his pajama top, then lifted the covers on the dishes the nurse had brought. No pancakes. Just toast and a bowl of grayish oatmeal. He ate both and drank all the liquids, wondering if the nurse would bring food for his friends. He glanced out the window, wishing he'd asked her what time it was. The sky was brighter now. If it was September in the northern hemisphere, it might not be all that early after all.   
  
He took out the emails and read them again, just to be sure he hadn't missed anything. And just to be sure he hadn't hallucinated them. He had the feeling he'd done that often during the past few months, though the details eluded him.   
  
He hoped Duo had been right about their ETA. He wondered if the nurse would be back in time to shave him before they got here. He didn't like looking this way. He looked like a crazy person. He didn't really feel crazy. He actually felt quite well, considering his physical state.   
  
He read the emails again and decided to keep them out where he could see them.   
  
Love, Duo.  
  
Lots of people signed their letters that way. He tried to remember if Duo had done that when he emailed him during his time with Relena. He couldn't remember. They hadn't had all that much contact then. That was probably his fault. He'd been sick, even in the early days: paranoia, depression, anxiety, the nightmares and sleepwalking. And his body resisting medication as perfectly as it did pain or infection.  
  
Love, Duo. The sight of those two brief words made him feel--odd. Had he ever signed a letter that way himself? He wouldn't say such a thing lightly. He wasn't even certain he was capable of feeling love.   
  
But even as he thought this, he realized he was wrong. He'd been programmed, trained to think like that, but he'd also been programmed not to lie to himself. To say he couldn't feel love for anyone felt like a lie.   
  
Something stirred in the back of his mind, a memory that, though hazy and unformed, made his throat go suddenly tight and his eyes sting. He had said it, or written it sometime. And he'd meant it. But it had hurt.   
  
That didn't make any sense, but the longer he stared at Duo's words, the clearer the sensation became. He felt terribly sad, but that made no sense, either. He was glad Duo and the others were coming here. He wasn't sad now; it was a memory of sadness. The scars on his wrists caught his attention. He must have been very sad to do something like that. Of course, depression was by definition a form of extreme sadness, even if it was simply an imbalance of brain chemicals.   
  
But if an unfocused memory of it made him feel this strongly, it must have seemed quite real at the time.   
  
He would probably need to speak to a professional about this, he decided. He read Duo's emails again. That made him feels a little better. When the sister returned with an orderly carrying scissors and the depilatory cream, Heero even managed a smile.


	7. Tracking Heero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

For once they managed to outsmart the reporters. Cadres of uniformed Preventer agents went Earth-side every day. Duo hid his braid down the back of his uniform jacket. Quatre gave up his jewelry and studs again for the cause and tucked his hair under his cap. He only had the one big electric blue streak at the moment, anyway, so it wasn't hard to hide. With sunglasses on and cap brims pulled low, none of the four attracted any notice as they strode through the launch port to the private shuttle Relena sent. She'd sounded a little starchy on the phone, according to Trowa, but Duo didn't have time to worry about that now.   
  
Dr. Batoosingh was already aboard and gave Duo a friendly nod as he dropped into the seat beside him. Even so, he also had that 'look', like Duo was a bug under a lens.   
  
"Don't worry, Doc," Duo told him. "For once you get to see me functional."  
  
No one said much until after lift off. Then others gathered around, leaning over the seat backs as Batoosingh opened his computer.   
  
"So what did you find out?" Duo asked.  
  
"Captain Yuy signed the release, allowing me to examine his records. You must understand that I am not at liberty to share all of the specifics."  
  
"But ya got to be able to tell us something! We're all the family he's got. At least tell us what ya think will let us help him."  
  
"Of course. In fact, Duo, when he joined Preventers and set up his health and insurance plans, he designated you and Mr. Barton as next of kin."  
  
Duo grinned up at Trowa, who was leaning over his seat. "Guess that makes us brothers, huh?"  
  
"What does that make me?" Quatre asked.   
  
"The in-law?" Wufei growled, but without malice. In his own prickly way, he'd accepted the union, though he still disliked the media attention it drew.  
  
Batoosingh called up a folder and began sorting through the files. "Captain Yuy sought both medical and psychiatric treatment while he was with the Preventers. According to his psychiatrist's notes, however, he found therapy extremely difficult."  
  
"It would involve talking," Trowa murmured.  
  
"That's why I do so well," Duo shot back, laughing. God, he felt good. No matter what Dr. B had turned up about Heero, he was alive and waiting for them! He didn't give a shit if Heero had been roasting babies and eating them. He was alive!  
  
Batoosingh found what he was looking for. "According to his current attending physician, Dr. Santos, he is suffering from extreme malnutrition and the effects of exposure, as well as assorted related ailments, none of them life threatening. He's quite weak, but there are no signs of pneumonia, as might be expected. He does appear to be exhibiting at least mild paranoid behavior-"  
  
"That describes Heero on a good day," Quatre told him. "It's just training, with him."  
  
"Not entirely, I fear. I'll come to that in a moment. But you should know that Captain Yuy himself urged Dr. Santos and his staff to treat him with caution. He was not fully coherent, seemed confused at times, and exhibited considerable distrust of anyone in authority."  
  
Wufei muttered something and Duo nodded. Paranoia and distrust; that was their Heero, all right.  
  
"There's more, though, isn't there?" asked Quatre.  
  
Batoosingh went back to the older file. "The paranoia was becoming increasingly pronounced during his time as a Preventer. Although therapy was less productive, he was very cooperative in taking medication. It seems his doctors ran the gamut, looking for something that would work-the thioridazines, two different haloperidols, the chlorpromazine family, clozapines- Ah, here is the blood work." Batoosingh's brows drew together, then shot up in surprise. "Well, they are--unusual, to say the least: adrenal levels off the scale, but dangerously low serotonins. In word, scarcely human."  
  
"He was human," Duo snapped. "Just-unusual. What else ya got?"  
  
"At the end he was taking Unadol, one of the new risperidones. Good god, the dosage! But not efficacious."  
  
"Huh?" asked Duo.  
  
"It didn't work," Quatre translated.  
  
"Not well enough to alleviate the symptoms," Batoosingh concurred.   
  
"Symptoms? Plural? What are we talking about?" Wufei demanded.  
  
"There are a number listed, and all seem to have continued to escalate during the time he was treated. In addition to the usual post-traumatic stress difficulties, he suffered from increasing paranoia, violent ideation, and somnambulism."  
  
"Meaning he walked in his sleep."  
  
"Yes, evidently there were several incidents of him attempting to 'carry out missions,' as it is noted here, while asleep. He attacked one of Relena's bodyguards during one such episode, injuring the man rather badly. That appears to have been the worst of several incidents. All were covered up in-house, but according to the notes, right before he disappeared, he was being restrained at night at his own request. He was scheduled to enter a psychiatric facility the day he disappeared."  
  
Duo gasped. "Relena was having him locked up?"   
  
"His signature appears on the committal papers."  
  
Duo stared at him. "But why didn't she tell us?"   
  
"A note is included with the file. Captain Yuy left specific instructions that the rest of you were not to know how ill he was until he gave his consent. Ms. Peacecraft gave her word."  
  
"But after he took off? Jesus, she could have said!"  
  
"Evidently he sent word, asking her not to. He agreed to stay in contact with you, Duo. If he broke contact for more than six months, she was free to tell the rest of you anything she cared to."   
  
Duo felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. "So that's it? That's why he wrote to me?" Quatre reached for his shoulder but Duo shook him off. "It was just-just a signal?" All the happiness he'd been feeling spiraled away, leaving him cold and sick inside.  
  
Batoosingh shook his head. "Don't jump to conclusions, Duo. Remember what he said on that card."  
  
"Yeah, when he was completely out of his mind!" Duo choked out. Tears burned his eyes but he blinked them back angrily. "He didn't-He didn't-" He couldn't get the words out. Yanking his cap brim down, he struggled to hold himself together. A signal! That's all. No wonder he didn't say much.   
  
Trowa was shaking him by the shoulder. "Duo, snap out of it!"  
  
"What does he mean. What didn't Captain Yuy do?" Batoosingh was asking.  
  
"The email," Quatre told him. "Heero didn't say-well, he didn't say 'I love you' in the email he sent this morning. I could tell that really bothered Duo at the time."  
  
"I just thought he forgot," Duo whispered hoarsely. "He said he was sick, right? And that they were rushing him off to the hospital or wherever. I just thought-he forgot."  
  
"Do you have this email with you?" asked Batoosingh.  
  
Duo called up the file on his machine and turned the screen so the doctor could see. Batoosingh frowned thoughtfully as he read it, then nodded and turned it back. "I suggest you read it again, keeping in mind how physically ill he was when he wrote this. Read it carefully, starting with the first paragraph."  
  
"Out loud, please," said Wufei, who hadn't read it yet.  
  
Duo wiped his eyes on his sleeve and grudgingly scanned the email again. "'Dear Duo, I hope this reaches you. I am at the Sanque Embassy in Madrid, Spain. I made them let me send this to you before they take me to the hospital. '"  
  
"Made them," Dr. Batoosingh repeated.  
  
Wufei chuckled. "I can imagine. It is not wise to argue with Heero."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Duo mumbled. "'I tried to call, but your number is not in service. That scares me. '" He glanced up. "OK, he was really concerned."  
  
"Go on. Skip to the next paragraph."  
  
"'I don't know how to begin. I think I have been very sick. I may have tried to kill myself, but quite honestly, I don't remember. I saw in an old newspaper that you were very sick again and the date seems to coincide with my reported death. If that was the cause, I'm very sorry. I don't know what happened, but I will find some way to make it up to you. They aren't giving me time to do a proper online search but I'm told you're alive--'"  
  
"Does that sound like someone who was only using you for a signal, Duo? Keep going."  
  
Duo wiped his eyes again. "'I have been mentally ill for some time now. Dangerously so. That's why I left. That's why I stayed away. I do not wish to say more in this format.' Yeah, that's him all over. 'I will tell you more later. I think I am much better now. I think I am, but I do not trust my judgment yet. I will keep you informed. I am sorry-'" He broke off, accepting the handkerchief the doctor was offering. "Jesus, he never apologized for anything! 'I am sorry if I caused you any pain. I am safe and seeking treatment. I will keep in touch. Please email me at this address for now, or call the embassy. I must go now-' OK, yeah, I get it. He cares."  
  
"About you, about your safety and your health, about what you must have thought upon hearing of his death."  
  
"He sounds very confused," Quatre says softly. "That's not like him at all. What's that last bit, about the news?"  
  
"'I hope they can keep this out of the news for a while. We have all been in the news too much, don't you think?'"  
  
Quatre rested his chin on the back of his hand, looking thoughtful. "Why would he say that, unless he'd been keeping tabs on us via the newscasts? Duo, I think he's missed us as bad as we missed him."  
  
"Especially you," noted Trowa. "I mean, he doesn't ask directly about anyone else, does he?"  
  
"I don't know Captain Yuy, but as a psychiatrist, and one who has listened to many stories of him, I suggest that he is telling Duo how he feels in every line." Batoosingh reached into his jacket and took out a plastic envelope containing the holocard. "Keep this close at hand. You may have some difficult times ahead of you. I worry that this young man cannot be everything that you need him to be for you, but don't doubt too quickly that he means what he says. You must all keep in mind, too, that no matter what he has been in the past, he is probably every bit as fragile as Duo right now."  
  
"What, me fragile?" Duo chewed at his lower lip for a moment, then excused himself and went to the lavatory at the back of the shuttle. Locking the door, he bent over the sink, head in his arms, and wept himself calm. When he was finished he blew his nose and rinsed his face, then looked himself in the eye in the mirror. He didn't like what he saw: pale face, red nose, wide, frightened eyes all bloodshot from crying. "Get a grip Maxwell!" he snapped, scowling at himself. "Do it for Heero. Get those fucking mood swings under control and quit reacting like a lovesick little girl." He checked his watch, popped the scheduled mood stabilizer pill early, and went back to his seat. Opening his laptop again, he logged onto the in-flight server.   
  
"You OK?" Trowa asked softly.  
  
"OK enough. Right, Kat?" Duo forced a grin.  
  
Quatre smiled back. "Yeah. What're you up to?"  
  
"Heero isn't the only world class hacker among us, right? Wuffie, you got a number for Heero's payroll records?"  
  
Wufei gave him the site code and Duo quickly found Heero's account. He plugged it into a piece of software he'd designed and set it to work breaking the password.   
  
"That appears to be highly illegal," Batoosingh murmured.  
  
"Don't worry, I'm a good boy. Just check my bank balance. I mostly used it for Heero hunting and stealing porn. And here---it---comes! Shit, wouldn't have come up with that one on my own. Soooooo, let's have a look at these accounts, Mr. Yuy. Have you been to the well lately? Holy fuck! Maybe Hacker Heero wasn't such a good boy. He's loaded!"  
  
"J left him well off," Wufei told him.  
  
"Oh, reeeeeally?" Duo nibbled a ragged thumbnail, eyes still on the screen. "Maybe I won't shit on his grave, after all."  
  
"Do what?" asked Quatre, shocked.  
  
"Never mind. Private joke. According to this, Heero hasn't touched his health insurance or his bank accounts since two days before he took a runner on Relena. However, on that day he pulled quite a chunk out of savings. Oh you clever boy, Heero. I bet we'll never trace that little nest egg. Fuck. Well, he had running money for a while at least. Now, Doc, what did you say that last drug he was on was called?"  
  
Batoosingh spelled it for him and Duo typed it into a custom search engine, cross referenced with the Kyoto police record.   
  
"What are you doing?" the doctor asked, perplexed.  
  
"Looking for Heero's M.O. " Wufei was actually grinning.   
  
"During the war Heero never paid for anything he could steal instead," Trowa explained, smiling now, too. "It was the closest I ever saw him come to admitting he was having fun. Besides that, though, a legal prescription would mean doctor's visits and a paper trail. All traceable, even if he used an alias. So he'd steal."  
  
"Nothing," Duo muttered. "Crazy like a fox, ain't ya, buddy?"   
  
"Expand to the national police register," Wufei said, leaning over to see the screen.  
  
"Way ahead of you. Gotcha! Six pharmacy robberies in western Japan in the past eighteen months with significant amounts of Unadol stolen, and four of them predate this." He patted the holocard in his uniform breast pocket. "I bet if we did a global search, there's be more, scattered from Earth to the colonies, and somewhere in there is the trail of the elusive Heero Yuy. Damn!"  
  
"That's why he swore Relena to secrecy, I bet," said Quatre. "He knew we'd figure this out and trace him."  
  
Batoosingh nodded, clearly impressed. "It's entirely possible he thought he was protecting you all. Duo, do the reports you have give the amount of drugs stolen?" He pulled up the calculator on his desktop. Duo broke out the figures and he totaled them up, then whistled. "God god, assuming only these four are indeed his doing, he had enough in his possession to kill six men."  
  
"Maybe he didn't take it?" Quatre suggested. "I mean, he's still alive, right?"  
  
Duo logged off, fell back in his seat, and closed his eyes. "That's right. He's still alive."


	8. Madrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

They made it through the Madrid launch port without being recognized and took a cab to a hospital named for St. Francis, at the edge of a large city park. It was nearly eleven am, local time, Duo noted anxiously. He should have tried to call again as soon as they landed, in case Heero was worried.   
  
Dr. Santos, a short, plump, silver-haired woman in a pink suit, met them in the eighth floor lobby and insisted on ushering them into an empty examining room. Duo started to protest, but Dr. Batoosingh patted his arm. "It's better we find out the facts first. I'm sure they will let him know we've arrived."  
  
"Already done," Dr. Santos assured him, smiling.   
  
She looked like someone's grandmother, Duo thought, too nervous to stand still. Not that he'd ever had a grandmother. But she looked nice.   
  
She leaned on the examining table and laid out several files. "Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Barton? Ah, how do you do? You are Capitan Yuy's next of kin?"   
  
"We all are," Trowa explained, gesturing at Quatre and Wufei. "You can speak freely with all of us."  
  
She shook hands with them, and then turned to Batoosingh. "And you must be Dr. Batoosingh, who will be taking over as primary care physician?"  
  
"Yes. Thank you for sending me his files. I had a chance to study them during our flight. Do you have the results of the new blood work yet?"  
  
Santos handed him a printout. "The serotonin levels are of particular interest, as you thought they might be."   
  
Batoosingh studied the papers, nodding slightly. "Nearly normal. Yet no signs of liver damage or thyroid imbalance? Have you been able to interview him again this morning?"  
  
"I just came from speaking with him. He's more lucid now. I think the dehydration may have been the problem. However, he's far from well."  
  
"So give it to us straight, doc!" Duo broke in impatiently, bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently. "The whole laundry list. What are we looking at?"  
  
Dr. Santos motioned them to seats around the room and opened a different folder. "Capitan Yuy is presenting symptoms of residual amnesia. I suspect it stems from an extended psychotic break, probably dating from the day he sent you the suicide note. He still does not recall many details of that day, but it is likely that he slashed his wrists and took an overdose of some medication, possibly pills hoarded from a prescription or stolen."  
  
"I am thinking it may have been Unadol," Batoosingh put in.  
  
Santos shrugged. "There's no way to be certain at this point, but it's a possible explanation for something that should be quite impossible. In addition to the amnesia, he shows possible symptoms of paranoia, though not to anything like the crippling degree noted in his records. He is still somewhat confused at times, but that seems to be wearing off quickly. He has been able to participate in conversations, and allowed himself to be shaved. In fact, he insisted on it. I sensed some tension when the orderly trimmed his beard with scissors, but he allowed it.  
  
"Physically, he presents symptoms consistent with a long time spent on the streets. He has been treated for ringworm, lice, athlete's foot, and intestinal parasites. There is some evidence that he suffered frostbite, as well. He is still dehydrated and severely malnourished. Nonetheless, for someone who has been psychotic and homeless for as long as six months, he's in remarkable shape. His teeth, eyes and hearing are intact. He has lost no extremities to the frostbite. Tests are still ongoing, but there are no signs of any internal infection."   
  
She paused, looking to Duo and Trowa. "Are you certain you wish to share all with your friends? I only ask because hospital regulations require permission to share certain more sensitive details."  
  
"Go ahead," Duo said. Trowa nodded.  
  
"The only potentially serious ailment we have found so far is early stage syphilis. When asked about sexual activity, Capitan Yuy claimed to be completely--inexperienced?"  
  
"Oh, hell!" Duo groaned, feeling ill. "You're saying he might have been-"  
  
"That is why I wished to speak to you before I shared this with him. The mentally ill homeless are often mistreated. I have found no evidence of damage or scarring in his throat, genitals or rectum, but at some point he may recover memories of a traumatic nature."  
  
"You're saying he was raped?" Wufei stated, his voice flat.   
  
"It is one possibility. Or it may have been entirely consensual at the time and he simply does not remember. He almost certainly contracted it since the suicide attempt, given his blood levels. Whatever the case, he does not recall it. I have prescribed the necessary course of antibiotics. I will leave it up to you when and if to discuss this with him but in your place, I would wait until he is much stronger."  
  
"He doesn't need to know!" Duo exclaimed. "Fuck, I'm not sure I needed to. Just make sure it gets cleared up, right? Anything else?"  
  
"I would like to keep him under observation for at least another twenty four hours, and sit in on an interview between him and Dr. Batoosingh, if that is all right with you?"  
  
"Fine! Whatever. Can we see him now?"  
  
"Certainly. This way, if you please. And do keep in mind that he is in a weakened condition and may not look like himself. Try not to over burden him with your concern, or too many questions. Right now he needs your presence and your support."  
  
Duo fought for calm as they followed her down a green painted corridor. It was quiet and well lit, but Duo felt an instinctive unease. It was lined with what he'd come to think of as "psycho doors", locked doors with small, thick, wire reinforced observation ports. He'd been shut behind too many of them to be comfortable here. Whatever it took, they were going to get Heero the hell out of here!  
  
Dr. Santos stopped at one of these doors near the end of the hallway and another thought dropped the bottom out of Duo's stomach. What if it wasn't Heero behind that door? What if it was just another hoaxer with a good line? "If it is, they can just check me in next door, after I kill him," he thought darkly, forcing himself through the door after her.  
  
For a moment he thought his fear was justified. It took a moment to convince himself that that the weathered, emaciated, haggard looking wreck in the bed was Heero Yuy. Then he smiled and said "Hello, Duo," and the rest was a blur until he realized that he'd not only crossed the room but climbed onto the bed into Heero's arms. Common sense returned in time to keep him from crushing that skinny body as he hugged him. Heero's chest and shoulder under his cheek felt like an old man's, all bony and thin. The voice that spoke by his ear was just the same, though-strong and slightly accented and warmer than he remembered it, even in his dreams. Heero was here. He was real and alive and holding him in a weak, stubborn hug, whispering, "I'm so sorry, Duo. I'm so glad you're here!"  
  
When Duo finally made himself sit back he found Heero staring at him with apparent horror. "Duo, your hair!"  
  
"Huh? Oh, no, it's still there!" Duo threw off his jacket and cap and pulled the braid forward for him to see.   
  
Heero stroked a hand down the length of it, smiling to himself. "Oh, good! I wouldn't know what to think if you cut it." He reached for Duo's left hand with his, but kept a light grip on the end of the braid with his right.  
  
Duo blinked back tears and laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not going to run away."  
  
Heero grinned sadly, but didn't let go of either until the others came over to hug him. Even Wufei allowed himself a stiff, brief embrace before he retreated to the end of the bed. He was scowling but there was a suspicious brightness in his dark eyes. Trowa was blinking, too, and Quatre was weeping and laughing unabashedly as he embraced Heero and kissed him on the cheek. Heero kissed him back, then pulled off his cap and inspected his hair with interest. "I like that better than the green and purple you had. But the different greens suited you. Have you given up the face metal, too?"  
  
Quatre raised a hand to his face, where the piercing holes in his lip, nose and eyebrows remained. "No, I'm in disguise, sort or rather, undisguised so we could get to you without the press noticing-" He stopped, eyes widening. "How did you know about--? You have been watching the news, haven't you?"  
  
Heero nodded shyly. "That was the only good thing about the way they hound you. At least I could see you now and then. You've all grown taller. And you three?" He looked around at Duo, Trowa, and Quatre. "You've turned out much-wilder than I would have imagined. Congratulations on the union, by the way. That was one of the hardest things to miss."  
  
Trowa blushed. "Well, we've got lots of pictures. You really kept track of us, eh?"  
  
Now Heero colored. "Actually, I had a whole scrapbook, and downloads. Everything I could find. But I lost it all somewhere." He sighed, looking a little lost suddenly. "I don't remember. I wish I had-"  
  
"It's OK, buddy. You got the real thing now." Duo turned the hand still clasping his and let out a hiss at the scars there. "Damn, you really meant business, didn't you?" He turned both wrists up to show Heero his own attempts. "Look. We match."  
  
Heero rubbed his thumbs over the scars, frowning. "Are you better now? You must be, if you're back in uniform."  
  
Duo laughed. "Don't let the threads fool you. It's just camo. Wufei's the only one still on active. The rest of us ran away with the circus. I'm not joking. Kat and I work with Trowa and Catherine now. We're gonna have to get a bigger trailer, Tro, or at least a bigger bed!"  
  
When Heero looked mystified, Duo hugged him again. "You don't think we're letting you get away again, do you? Fuck, Heero, don't even think about it. Ain't gonna happen."  
  
Heero's arms came up around his waist again, clasping him close. "Don't worry. I'm back, if you all will have me."


	9. The Real Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

It had been strange, and rather disturbing, how nervous Heero suddenly felt when Sister Agnes told him his friends had arrived, that they would be in to see him shortly.  
  
He'd never been scared of them, never had any reason to be. They were his teammates, and they had made themselves his friends, even against his own wishes. That made him smile a little, even as he fidgeted with the sheet across his lap. Friendship wasn't something J had prepared him for, except how to feign it in order to get what he wanted. And he'd never gotten very good at that. It had always been wiser to just avoid contact.   
  
Then he'd met Relena. And she'd refused to react as he expected. Not only could she not be intimidated, she followed him, sought him out. He wasn't sure if he'd exactly liked her, but being around her made him feel-differently. Whatever it was, he'd broken training and let her live. Of course, in the long run, it had made sense and worked out the best for the larger mission. He liked to think he'd somehow known that instinctively. Then he'd still be himself.  
  
And then he met Duo. He hadn't just not been intimidated by Heero, he'd laughed at him, joked with him, pushed him in ways that Heero could have killed him for, risked his life foolishly to help him when it went against the mission and all logic. It was Duo, really, who'd changed something in Heero, something important that had let him see the other three as fellow soldiers, rather than strangers on different missions.   
  
But Duo remained in a class of his own.   
  
Sitting in bed, staring out that the Spanish lake and the swans, Heero realized that he was worried-worried that Duo would be different when he walked in, that the others would be too, but mostly Duo.   
  
The doctors here had given him lots of fluids and some new medications this morning. He was feeling much more clear-headed. He was remembering more.  
  
During his lucid phases, he'd watched anxiously for his friends on the news, until whatever had happened six blank months ago. They'd done some shocking things, things Heero never would have imagined. It didn't make him think any less of them, but he was confused. At times it made him feel very lonely, especially when the footage showed Duo, Trowa and Quatre hugging each other and laughing together, wearing odd clothes that showed so much of their bodies. They were having sex, the news claimed, perhaps even with each other. He had a difficult time believing that, until he saw the coverage of Trowa and Quatre uniting on L-2. Then he supposed it must be true. Looking at Duo in those pictures, smiling-Heero didn't need his computer files or scrapbooks to remember, he only had to close his eyes; Duo, his tough, funny, irreverent friend, who'd screamed of death like a mad man during battle and called himself Shinigami-their Shinigami Fly Boy bare chested, wearing a black skirt of some sort under a man's jacket, with pink roses woven into his hair--and somehow managing to not look silly or effeminate at all.  
  
Heero rubbed his eyes and shifted on the bed. Sometimes pictures like that had made him very uncomfortable. He couldn't say why, except that it had nothing do to with Duo wearing a skirt or Quatre with eye shadow and pink and purple hair, or even Trowa--calm, quiet Trowa--kissing Quatre on the mouth while they both held up their middle fingers at the camera. No, that had just been weird and a bit surreal, but that's not what made him feel that unnamable emotion that was like being angry and sick to his stomach at the same time. It was the way they looked happy. When he looked in their eyes in those pictures, they looked happy. It felt very bad not to be there with them. He'd even not emailed Duo for extra days or weeks, sometimes, because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to keep it to those two safe sentences.  
  
It had been worse in a different way when he saw the reports of them unhappy. Quatre, once so proper and polite, delirious and spewing profanity at his family, or Duo hunched small with hands held in front of his face between two police officers. Or being carried into a moon-side hospital on a stretcher, his face white and slack. That had been very bad. Heero had come very close to booking passage to the colony that time.   
  
But he didn't. He'd gotten most of the reservation typed into his computer before his hands were shaking too badly to continue and the images blinded him--not just Luxembourg or Zero or dead puppies and little girls lying in the rubble, but that last night at Relena's, when he came to himself in her dark bedroom, hearing himself whisper those words. The knife he held was poised to thrust, aimed with his usual deadly precision at her heart. He'd known for certain then that he wasn't safe anywhere near those he cared for.  
  
Since then he'd come out of too many black outs in strange places to trust himself. Sometimes he was hurt. Sometimes he was covered in some else's blood. He wasn't safe.  
  
He was a killing machine J had forgotten to turn off.  
  
He looked down at his hands. The nails were a bit cleaner now, and trimmed. There was no blood. They hardly shook at all. He didn't feel violent. Just very, very nervous.  
  
The feeling got worse when he heard voices and footsteps approaching, and still worse when he saw Duo frozen there in the doorway behind Dr. Santos. He did look different now, more so than when Heero had last seen him on the news. He was thinner and paler. The Preventers uniform hung on him. And his hair, that long, Shinigami braid--it was gone! Heero hardly had time to register the pang of loss that caused before a worse one followed as he realized that Duo looked more scared than Heero felt, and wary. He knew that look well enough.   
  
He'd forced himself to speak, wanting to say so much, to change that expression, but all he'd come out with was a pathetic, "Hello, Duo."  
  
But somehow it was enough. Relief and great happiness were clear in those huge blue eyes as Duo shouldered past the doctor and literally climbed into Heero's arms. It knocked the wind out of him and hurt a little, but he didn't care. Nothing else had mattered but the fact that Duo was real, alive, and here, and that Heero was, for once, certain beyond any doubt that it wasn't a just another longing dream or hallucination.  
  
Then the others were with him, all four of them, and there was enough laughing and crying and hugging to make up for all those times he'd watched from a distance on the news. Quatre, looking rather more normal than Heero had expected, had even kissed him and Heero had been amazed to find himself returning the greeting. He didn't kiss anyone--  
_  
//except . . . .//_  
  
He pushed that away and concentrated on the sound of his friends' happy voices, and the feeling of Duo's hand clutching his. Looking down, he saw with embarrassment that he was gripping the end of Duo's long braid. It struck him as silly, but he didn't let go until Duo moved to make room for the others to greet him.  
  
Being happy was very tiring. He talked with them all as long as he could--he couldn't even remember what they'd said now--and then he was trying hard not to fall asleep. He heard Dr. Santos advising them to leave so he could rest and roused enough to catch Duo by the hand. Duo nodded to the others and stayed.  
  
And Heero found he still didn't want to let go of his hand. There was no chair in the room. It only made sense to tug Duo back onto the bed, to shift over and make room for him to stretch out. He'd already taken off his coat and hat. He kicked off his boots and lay down on top of the blankets, letting Heero rest his head on his shoulder. He wasn't wearing any socks.  
  
This felt oddly familiar, thought Heero, fighting to keep his eyes open. He blinked down at Duo's bare feet, then jerked his head up in alarm. _/Please, please don't let me slip back into hallucinations already!/_ "Duo? Your toenails--"  
  
Duo laughed, sounding much realer than even Heero's best hallucinations. "Cayman Green. Ya like? Blame Quatre. He's gotten me used to it. And poor Trowa doesn't have a chance against him. Wu Fu's the only hold out so far."  
  
Heero tried to picture the taciturn Chinese pilot sitting still to have his toenails varnished. A strange, hoarse sound bubbled up out of his chest, scraping a little as it escaped.  
  
Duo pulled back to stare at him, and then hugged him close and laughed into his hair. "Well, whadya know! The perfect soldier can laugh."  
  
Is that what that was? Heero thought as sleep claimed him. It sounded a lot better when Duo did it.


	10. Odd Man Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

There'd been considerable speculation when Wufei Chang had asked for a transfer off Princess Relena's honor detail. As Preventer assignments went, it had been a cakewalk, but very high status. He'd only taken the post because Heero Yuy had asked him to.   
  
Wufei had suspected almost from the start that there was something wrong with Yuy, even before Libra. They were more alike than most people realized; both were driven, solitary, focused. But Wufei had philosophy and revenge to drive him. Yuy seemed empty by comparison. By the end of the war both of them had been too used up and torn between loyalties to heal, and unlike the other three pilots, neither had any home or family to go back to. He assumed that was why Yuy had agreed to join Relena's security force. Wufei would never have admitted it, of course, but he was flattered and a little touched that 01 had requested he be put on the same detail. He'd always respected Heero the most of any of the other Gundam pilots, and deep down, he wondered if they could be friends in peacetime. What would peace be like, for Heero Yuy?  
  
It had been torture, apparently. Instead of relaxing and opening up, Heero had become more silent, more withdrawn--even odd. The other Preventers had respected him, but not warmed to him. There was little to warm to. Wufei Chang was considered "the friendly one" by comparison.   
  
By the time Heero had disappeared, Wufei was more than ready to move on. He'd worked with Sally ever since, slept with her for a while, and managed to remain friends when it ended. He lived alone, did his job, and kept to himself.   
  
The other three pilots had become something of an embarrassment over the past few years. Wufei had never wanted to capitalize on his status as a "Gundam Boy"; the media frenzy was offensive, and positively horrifying to the reserved Chinese colonial. That the term "Gundam Boy" had soon become synonymous with debauchery and scandal only made it worse. Proper Quatre Winner went rogue. Quiet Trowa Barton revealed aspects of his personality Wufei would never have guessed at. Appalled as Wufei had been at the spectacle of their "marriage" as they insisted on calling the union, at least it had settled them down a bit.   
  
And Maxwell? Well, he'd just fallen apart. Noisily and publicly, of course.   
  
Wufei had fallen apart, too, but very quietly and secretly, scarcely able to admit to himself how he was sinking. He worked. He lived simply. He remained solitary. No one questioned this, given his personality, but that solitude had become a prison he could not escape.   
  
Duo's breakdowns were welcome variations in that pattern, excuses for him to be drawn back into the closest thing he had left to a circle of friends. He knew they considered him in that light. How did he feel about them? He was so numb, it was hard to say. The fact that he still willingly showed up whenever Barton or Winner called indicated some level of attachment. If only he could _feel_ it, feel anything at all! But he didn't. He couldn't. It had started like a slow spreading canker in his soul with the destruction of his colony, and come to full-blown frozen fruition at Treize's death.   
  
Treize Kushreneda. Wufei still dreamed about that proud, perfect warrior. If only he'd killed Wufei in that first duel, then he could have died like a man. But no, Treize had cruelly spared him, promising a rematch as if Wufei were an honored equal. The man had haunted Wufei's thoughts from then on: his nemesis, his idol, his touchstone. The warrior he would never be.  
  
Wufei had felt pain like a spurrned lover when he'd heard that Heero had dueled with the man, spoken with him, even enjoyed his hospitality. It only underscored the fact that Yuy was his superior. Treize must have recognized that fact the moment he'd met the boy. Despite the slow withering of Wufei's soul and emotions, this had struck home, and he'd tossed night after night on his lonely bed, agonizing about his own failure to measure up. He tried to hate them both, but he idolized them both too much. Kushreneda and Yuy; two dazzling, blazing stars of the warrior firmament. They were everything he was not. No, he couldn't hate them; he could only loathe himself.   
  
That it should fall to him to kill Treize? There was no triumph or justice in it; no satifaction, only desolation and a crushing sense of loss. He'd wept in Nataku's cockpit when he realized what he'd done. It wasn't supposed to turn out that way. Kushreneda was not supposed to lose, to die, not at his unworthy hands! His idol, his secret mentor--how could he have fallen? Wufei had been too stunned to even consider suicide. The world no longer made any sense.  
  
Heero's death had hit him nearly as hard, but differently. He'd already come to realize how fallible his other idol really was. Familiarity during their time together in Preventers had not exactly bred contempt, but it had demystified the other boy for him. Heero was human. He had feelings, after a fashion. He had no center. And he had died.  
  
After that, keeping Duo alive, looking for Heero's body in Japan, tracking down hoaxers who for months claimed to be Heero with bogus emails and letters; that had been satisfying, especially when the captures allowed for physical takedowns. He'd narrowly escaped official censure a couple of times, but it had been worth it, hurting someone who had so willfully hurt the others.  
  
And him. That was when he began to realize that he was not quite as dead inside has he'd hoped. When the search was called off and the hoaxes tapered off, he found himself left with an open wound in his psychic armor. This was worse than the numbness; all he seemed to be capable of feeling was pain.   
  
Drugs had not been hard to come by. Who knew more about illicit traffic than a Preventer? After a brief period of experimentation, he'd settled on opium use at home out of somewhat misplaced cultural ties, and marijuana when traveling, because it was currently legal on L-4 and in various ESUN territories. He never smoked on the job and it didn't interfere with his work. No, it helped. He had to turn off, tune out, to relax, and this allowed him to do that.  
  
That's what he told himself, anyway.  
  
He tried not to notice that he tended to resort to such defenses more after he'd been around his fellow ex-pilots for any length of time. He smoked a lot the week after he left the others in Madrid. After all those emotional gymnastics--Duo's frantic email that Heero might be alive, the furtive Earth-side trip with three edgy friends, the shock of find that this, at last, was no hoax. And of course, the leering, slavering press dogging them at every turn, not to mention the stunning realization that he was the only Gundam Boy who wasn't gay. By the time he got home to his own quiet little apartment in the Chinese neighborhood of L-4, some of the tabloids had even concocted a theory that latent homosexuality had been some sort of vetting factor in the choice of boys for Project Meteor. Suspicious eyes were cast in Wufei's direction. Some reporter referred to him as "the Lone Dragon." Others hinted at the possibility of some secret life.   
  
If only he had one. "Lone Dragon, indeed!" he'd thought bitterly as he locked his apartment door, stowed away his travel kit, and lifted the precious antique jade opium pipe from its brocade box in his bedroom. Later, half-stoned on his narrow bed, the lone straight Gundam Boy found himself dialing Sally Po's number.  
  
She was glad to hear from him, as always, and glad to have the details of the past week's amazing events. The entire Earth Sphere was abuzz about Heero's amazing resurrection. By the time they met for dinner two days later, the spectacle of Heero kissing Duo on the steps of the St. Francis Hospital had made global headlines.  
  
"You don't approve?" Sally asked, smiling a bit over her Moo Shu Pork.   
  
Wufei sighed, toying with his chow fun. "It's no business of mine what they do. I suppose I was surprised about Yuy. "  
  
"Shocked, I think." Sally knew him too well.   
  
"Very well. Shocked. And yet-- Well, I have no doubt that this is a mission of Yuy's own choosing, and one he will succeed in. It will probably save Maxwell's life, too."   
  
"Why is it so hard for you to admit that you care about them?"  
  
"I do not deny it!" Wufei retorted, surprised at such an assertion. The fact that he still consorted with them should be all the proof anyone needed.   
  
"So, how left out _do_ you feel?"  
  
Damn the woman! She'd always been able to read him far too easily.   
  
"Are you suggesting that I should go back and attempt to woo one of them away?" he snapped, slapping his chopsticks down.   
  
Sally chuckled, unfazed. "Would you like to come home with me tonight?"  
  
Wufei bristled. "I don't need a pity fuck!"  
  
"Suit yourself. The offer stands. For now."  
  
It had become something of a joke between them, that standing offer. It had been Wufei who'd walked, or rather, drifted away from that loose, half-acknowledged pairing they'd shared for a time. At least that's what he chose to tell himself. There had been no argument, no acrimony at the end. Their affair had been brief and polite, but not passionate. Sally had suggested therapy. Wufei had politely ignored her and chosen solitude and the pipe instead. That path required no confessions or embarrassing admissions, no strangers prying into the darker corners of his soul.   
  
They parted amiably and Wufei went home. The Lone Dragon slept alone, telling himself that he was grateful not to have to listen to Barton and Winner copulating. Sometimes he dreamed he heard them, though, or relived that horrendous moment when he'd walked in on Duo and Heero. He woke from these dreams with the oddest sensations. Sometimes he smoked an extra pipe to get back to sleep.  
  
+  
  
He'd been home less than two weeks when Commander Une called him and Sally into her office.   
  
"I'm sorry to trouble you so soon after everything else you've just been through, Wufei, but there's a mission I don't think I can trust any other team with, " she said, polishing her glasses in a manner that suggested she was going to give him an assignment he wouldn't like. "It's a matter of extreme delicacy, relating back to the war. Whatever your answer is, I need your word that you will disavow any knowledge of what I'm about to show you."   
  
"Of course." It was only a formality, of course. Une would not be having this conversation at all if she had any doubt on that score.  
  
They left Preventer headquarters and she piloted them to a secure sector of the L-4 launch port, parking in a nondescript lot in front of a nondescript, unmarked white building that was in fact a Preventer safe house. The need for such places had not disappeared with warfare.  
  
Inside, they made their way past a state of the art security system and three checkpoints to a locked door. Une paused before opening it. "The man inside not a prisoner. He's been under the express protection of the Sanque Kingdom government since the end of the war. His repatriation to that country has been approved by ESUN, but he is considered to be a high risk individual. Your mission will be to accompany him on the journey, and to act as bodyguards until such time as it is judged he is safe without them. He was horribly wounded in battle, and listed among the dead. He's spent thirteen of the past twenty-four months in a tissue regeneration unit. Until recently he also suffered from severe amnesia. His mind is still not entirely stable, but he is no longer considered a danger to others."  
  
As she spoke, Wufei felt himself slowly overcome with a mix of hope and horror. Was it possible? Could it be another ghost was back from the dead? His hands hurt and he realized he was clenching his fists so hard his knuckles ached.   
  
Treize! Another chance! For--what?   
  
"Wufei, are you unwell?"  
  
The women were both staring at him. "I'm fine." His voice betrayed nothing, but the look on their faces did not change. Had he gone pale?  
  
Une regarded him a moment longer, then opened the door and let them through. A tall figure stood by the window, looking out into black space beyond.   
  
Wufei recognized him at once, even with the white-blond hair so much shorter and that empty left sleeve. The voice, though softer and more hoarse than Wufei and the rest of the world recalled, was unmistakable, still low and rough and edged with mockery.  
  
"Ah, more warriors with pulled fangs. A regular veterans reunion."  
  
Stunned as he was, Wufei was the first to find his voice. "What do we call you now? Zechs Merquise or Milliardo Peacecraft?"


	11. Transcription #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_Transcript entry by: Dr. Thomas R. Batoosingh_

_Outpatient Services_  
_Winner Memorial Veterans Hospital_  
_L-2 Colony_  
  
_Interview conducted at:_  
_Hospital de Santo Francis, Madrid_  
_Dr. Maria Estella Santos, attending physician_  
  
_Names censored for confidentiality._  
  
_Note: I informed Subject H that I should be considered an interim physician, as I am still active in treatment of Subject D, but both H and D have requested that I remain assigned to this case. In fact, H has made it clear that he will not speak with any other psychiatrist. Even in his weakened condtion, he is surprisingly forceful and stubborn. Perhaps also a manifestation of the paranoia and hyper vigilance that shows up in his past records. Necessary notations and releases have been filed._  
  
_Subject: H Y_  
_Notes for Psychiatric Session #01_  
_09/04/198_  
  
_This is our first formal session. I have spoken to Subject H informally several times over the past two days in his room and on the hospital grounds, and observed him in the company of Subject DM, and fellow former pilots W, Q, and T. H is progressing, but remains in a physically weakened state, especially compared to his former physical level as shown in medical records before disappearance two years earlier. Very tired, sleeps 10 to 14 hours/day, is occasionally forgetful or confused, but overall appears lucid. Manner is quiet, not overly talkative, esp. in comparison to D or Q, but this seems to stem from personality rather than any desire to withdraw. Barely eighteen, he speaks in the overly formal manner of one raised around adults, with no peer interaction. However, he talks willingly with friends and medical staff, and is very polite. Seems to prefer being in company rather than being alone, esp. company of D. I reserve judgment on the specific nature of that relationship, but he certainly appears to reciprocate in some fashion D's deep affection for him. H is a hard young man to read and I remain undecided as to whether he is emotionally capable of feeling actual love for another person. Past history presents distinct possibility of sociopath affect._  
  
_Met with Subject H at 10 am, local time, in consultation room of Dr. Santos. Santos in attendance. H enters dressed in clothing provided by friends: denim jeans, black cotton sweater, and sneakers. Hair trimmed shorter, but still unkempt. Looks remarkably like wartime photos, though taller and still exceedingly thin. Looks much younger than my initial impression upon arrival. Manner is quiet, expression rather dour, though all friends assure me on several different occasions that this is natural and does not necessarily indicate discomfort or aggression. His nurses concur and appear quite attached to him already, speaking very warmly of him._  
  
_Subject avoids armchair that stands with back to door, chooses divan against the wall, with desk and window to left, door to his right. May not be significant, beyond former training. Sits at ease, both feet on floor, hands folded in lap. Nods to both Dr. Santos and myself. Waits for someone else to speak._  
  
Santos: You are looking well today, H. I'm told your appetite is good.  
  
Subject H: Yes, thank you.  
  
Are you sleeping well?  
  
Subject H: Yes, very well. The bed is quite comfortable and the building is quiet.  
  
Santos: You have no objection to Dr. Batoosingh joining us? This is in effect your first counseling session with him.  
  
Subject H: I have no objection. Does this mean you've accepted me as a patient, Dr. Batoosingh?  
  
Yes. D made it clear to me that you have had difficulty trusting doctors in the past, and that it would be easier for you to work with someone already trusted by one of your friends.  
  
Subject H: Thank you. If D trusts you, then I should.  
  
Good. Well then, is there anything in particular you would like to tell me?  
  
Subject H: I am feeling better.  
  
That's good to hear. But you are not fully well, I think? You have had a very rough couple of years.  
  
Subject H: I suppose so. _(My impression so far is that the subject is not being evasive, but shy. Also trained to resist interrogation. This presented a problem with previous therapists.)_  
  
Would you be more comfortable answering direct questions?  
  
Subject H: Like a debriefing?  
  
If you like. Yes, we can approach it like a mission debriefing. I'm told you tend to approach unfamiliar situations as if they are missions.  
  
Subject H: That's how I was trained.  
  
Do you often set your self a mission objective or goal?  
  
Subject H: Yes.  
  
Do you have a stated objective for this session?  
  
Subject H: Yes.  
  
Could you share that with us?  
  
Subject H: To be as honest and forthcoming as possible, to answer truthfully, and listen to any advice or insight offered with an open mind.  
  
That's-that's very good, H. Did you establish this for yourself before you came in?  
  
Subject H: No. I've had trouble in the past opening up in these situations. I wasn't able to work constructively with Dr. Ballard _(psychiatrist assigned to Subject H's case in 196)._ However, I believe I was also not mentally prepared at that time to take full advantage of the help being offered.  
  
How did you prepare for this session?  
  
Subject H: I asked D what I should do. He gave me the objective I just stated.  
  
You trust him very much.  
  
Subject H: Yes.  
  
He is as good friend?  
  
Subject H: Yes. _(Subject remains nearly expressionless throughout, but there is a slight vocal emphasis on this answer. Making mental note to avoid phrasing questions in a fashion that can be answered with a simple yes or no. Subject is a man of few words, it would seem.)_  
  
He has talked a great deal about you. I cannot divulge the details, but he considers you a very good and important friend. His best friend, in fact, despite not seeing you for so long.  
  
Subject H accepts this without comment but appears shyly pleased.  
  
Very well, then, let's begin two years ago. You were very sick then.  
  
Subject H: Yes, I was becoming a danger to others. That's why I left.  
  
Can you describe in detail what problems you were having? I believe you were scheduled to enter a facility for help. Yet you left.  
  
Subject H: I wasn't thinking clearly most of the time. I believed that people-friends even --were plotting against me. I attacked several people, three I think, based on these misguided perceptions. It occurred several times during black outs or when I was asleep. At other times I was aware of my actions, and they seemed to make sense at the time, but afterwards I was shocked at my behavior. I'm glad I left before I killed anyone. I nearly assassinated R.  
  
I have no record of any attack on her, H. Are you certain this actually occurred?  
  
Subject H: I can't say with absolute certainty that it happened or if I only hallucinated it, but it seemed very real at the time. I escaped from the room where I was confined the night before I was to be committed, broke into R's bedroom and nearly stabbed her with a knife.  
  
Where did you get the knife?  
  
Subject H: I don't know.  
  
What stopped you from going through with it?  
  
Subject H: I've been thinking about that. I can't say for certain what stopped me, except that I heard myself saying, "Omae o korosu." That's Japanese for "I will kill you." It's one of the first things I ever said to her.  
  
Why would you say that to her?  
  
Subject H: I met R during my first mission to Earth. My orders were to kill anyone who saw my face and could later identify me. I intended to, but I was unable to follow through with killing her then and on several other occasions.  
  
Why was that?  
  
Subject H: _(a significant pause. H clearly wishes to answer the question, but looks increasingly puzzled.)_ I've asked myself that many times. The second time it occurred D was with us and shot me to prevent me from hurting her. I don't know that I would have stopped myself that time. I'm glad he did. R has since been very kind to me. In fact, Omae o korosu became something of a joke among us. But that night two years ago when I said it in her room, I realized I meant it again. That scared me. It was like I'd forgotten who we all were, as if it was some stranger I was standing over with that weapon. I felt--ashamed.  
  
And you stopped yourself from hurting her.  
  
Subject H: Yes. She didn't even wake up. No one but me knew it had happened until I told you just now.  
  
You have not told your friends?  
  
Subject H: It's not something I'm proud of. And they haven't asked.  
  
I assure you that anything you say to Dr. Santos or myself in this setting is kept confidential.  
  
Subject H: Thank you. They're having enough trouble understanding why I left them. But do you think it would help if I told them about that?  
  
Yes, I think they would understand. I'll leave it to you, unless you wish me to broach the subject for you?  
  
Subject H: No, I'll tell them.  
  
What did you do after you stopped yourself from hurting R?  
  
Subject H: Assassinating her.  
  
Assassinating R. What did you do then?  
  
Subject H: I ran away. I'd already thought about it and had made financial arrangements. When I was thinking clearly I knew it would be best to go into the hospital, as planned, but I wasn't thinking clearly most of the time by then. I recall being so sure it was a trap, that my friends were conspiring against me to lock me up. I had dreams about being in a dangerous, abusive place, unable to get out.  
  
Where did you go when you ran away?  
  
Subject H: To L-1. I thought I might be able to blend into the slums there, but I was recognized. So I went Earth-side and traveled, trying to stay anonymous.  
  
That must have been difficult. You're a very famous person.  
  
Subject H: Yes, it was. But I'm trained for that sort of thing. I was also increasingly unstable. I think maybe when people did see me, they assumed I was some crazy person who looked a bit like the boy on the news.  
  
And where did you travel?  
  
I started in old India, since I hadn't been active there like I had in the States and middle Europe. As I got worse, I found myself not knowing where I was unless I saw a newspaper or vid kiosk. Often weeks would pass and I would not know where I'd been or what I'd done, unless I still had the transport stubs. That worries me a little.  
  
Not knowing what you might have done in fugue state?  
  
Subject H: Fugue? Isn't that a sort of music? I think I heard Quatre and Trowa play a fugue one time.  
  
Yes, but it also refers to a state of mind in which a person wanders without memory for a period of time. That sounds like what you're describing.  
  
Subject H: _(nods.)_ Fugue state. I'll remember that.  
  
Has anything like that happened to you since you came to yourself the other day?  
  
Subject H: Came to myself? I like the way you phrase things, Doctor. It's very descriptive and helpful. No, I don't think so. I'm still tired, and my mind wanders a bit, but it's different. _(Pauses, thinks, scowling rather darkly, then shakes his head.)_ I was confused when I woke up here that first morning, but I was able to recall what had happened when I concentrated. That wouldn't be a real fugue, would it?  
  
No. You've been quite lucid, by all accounts. I'm very impressed with your rate of recovery.  
  
Subject H: Thank you. As I said, I'm feeling much better.  
  
More like yourself?  
  
Subject H: Not entirely. In fact, that's something I'm trying to figure out.  
  
Perhaps I can help. Can you describe how you're feeling?  
  
Subject H: Peaceful. I feel--peaceful. Before, when I was being trained, and even during the war, I felt calm, I guess. I didn't feel fear. I was brave, but mostly because I felt no fear of dying or being hurt. I was hurt very badly on several occasions, and that was bad physically, but mentally I just remember feeling resigned. When I was successful at a mission I felt--good? I was rewarded for success in my training and later was able to feel positively about myself when I accomplished an objective, without needing any outside praise or reward. When I accidentally killed innocent people I felt very bad in a lot of ways.  
  
Can you name those emotions?  
  
Subject H: Failure, and guilt. Sorrow? I killed some important Colonial diplomats by accident early in the war. It was a mistake. I'd been misinformed. But I accepted misinformation from the enemy and allowed myself to be misled, so the fault was mine. That made me feel very bad. Later I tried to apologize to some of their family members.  
  
Did that make you feel better?  
  
Subject H: No, but it was the right thing to do. Trowa was with me then. He said it was "above and beyond."  
  
Perhaps, but it also showed great character.  
  
Subject H: Thank you for saying that. I worry that I'm not capable of normal feelings. Many people think I don't feel anything. That's not true, but I know I'm not like other people. I wish was. It's important to be able to follow your feelings.  
  
I assure you, H, you have emotions. Your early training and socialization were certainly not normal, but it is clear you feel deeply for those you call friends, and even for strangers. You recognize the difference between right and wrong, and wish to do right.  
  
Subject H: _(is very quiet. I realize after some minutes that he is overcome with emotion. He does not weep, but he blinks and goes silent for some time.)_ I used to feel like a machine. I thought about that yesterday.  
  
A machine?  
  
Subject H: Yes, some machine programmed only for specific functions. I was taught about demolitions, infiltration, electronic spying, how to kill with all sorts of different weapons. No one told me much about how normal people treat each other. And when Dr, J was dead and the war was over, I felt like a machine he'd forgotten to turn off. Does that make sense?  
  
Yes. I hear that from a lot of vets I treat. What about love?  
  
Subject H: No, we never talked about that.  
  
Do you think you know how to love other people?  
  
Subject H: I don't know. I want to, though. I think that's important. But I'm not sure I understand it enough to say whether that's what I feel for anyone or not.  
  
What about the holocard you sent D?  
  
Subject H: A holocard? I don't remember that.  
  
You did. You should ask him about that and we'll discuss it next time. D showed me the email you sent to him the other day from the embassy. In it you mention seeing your friends on the news. Q speculated that you kept track of them that way.  
  
Subject H: Yes. I needed to see them. I needed see how they looked and what they were doing, even though sometimes it wasn't very good behavior. And--I've been thinking about that a lot, too, since I've been here--it didn't always make me feel good, but I still wanted to see them.  
  
How do you mean?  
  
Subject H: Sometimes--not always (strong emphasis again, relatively speaking) but sometimes, when I saw them being happy together, like when they were at clubs together, laughing and enjoying themselves? I-- I felt--badly. I can't explain, really. I never felt that way before.  
  
Can you break the feeling into components for me?  
  
Subject H: I've been trying to do that. It was like a mix of anger and sadness and loneliness and my stomach hurt. But none of that makes any sense. You're laughing. Is that very odd?  
  
Forgive me! No, it's a very normal, common sort of feeling and I enjoyed how well you described it. You were jealous.  
  
Subject H: Oh.  
  
You communicate very well, H.  
  
Subject H: You're the only one except D who seems to think so. Everyone else says I'm too quiet, or too scary.  
  
But not D?  
  
Subject H: No, he always seems to understand whether I say anything or not. And he's never scared of me, even when he should be. That's one of the main reasons I stayed away. I knew he wouldn't believe me if I told him I was dangerous. None of them would, but especially him. He can be very foolhardy at times, and very stubborn.  
  
You wished to protect him? And all your friends.  
  
Subject H: Of course.  
  
Why is that, do you think?  
  
Subject H: I don't understand the question.  
  
Perhaps it is too obvious; they are your friends and therefore you protect them, even if it means causing yourself pain.  
  
Subject H: Yes.  
  
And from what you just told me, it was painful to see them happy together when you were so alone.  
  
Subject H: Sometimes, when I wasn't well. Other times it made me happy to see them like that. But it was the different when they were in trouble. Especially when D was sick. I wanted to help him but I knew that even if I went to him when I was feeling at my best, it wouldn't last. I'd end up hurting him when I got sick or went into another--fugue?  
  
You're a very good friend, H. It's too bad you weren't able to get adequate treatment so that your friends could have helped and supported you. I think they would have, don't you?  
  
Subject H: Yes. They think I made a mistake in how I handled things, but I still think they're wrong.  
  
So what changed?  
  
Subject H: Why did I finally contact D, you mean?  
  
Yes. What changed your mind?  
  
Subject H: I don't know. I'd been really fugued, and then I wasn't. I was still very confused and sick, but I saw his name on this. _(Takes a scrap of newspaper from his pocket. It is weathered and water-stained, but he has folded it neatly and handles it with great care as he shows it to Santos and me.)_ What I could make out from the article said that people thought I was dead, and that he'd gotten very sick at that same time. D has been unstable since the war, and I was afraid that news of my death might have caused him to hurt himself again. That's what the paper made it sound like. Seeing that, I suddenly felt like I had a mission. I had to find out if that was true, and to let him know that I wasn't dead.  
  
So keeping your distance had become counterproductive?  
  
Subject H: Yes, but I can't claim to have thought in such rationale terms at the time. I panicked. I just wanted to know if he was all right.  
  
Do you think you would have had the same reaction if the name in the headline had been T's, or one of the others?  
  
Subject H: I--I guess so. They are all my friends. Why wouldn't I?  
  
I was told some of the details of your reemergence, shall we call it? I've done some checking with various news archives. All of your other friends were in the headlines at one time or another since your suicide attempt. Even living on the streets, you might have seen mention of them on a kiosk or newsstand. In fact, it would be difficult not to have seen something, especially if you were on Earth all that time. Why do you think this particular headline caused such a strong reaction?  
  
Subject H: I don't know. I was sort of hoping you could tell me.  
  
I'll give it some thought. Do you mind if we talk about your suicide attempt now?  
  
Subject H: No, I don't mind. I don't remember very much about it, though.  
  
Tell me what you do remember.  
  
Subject H: It's all--in pieces? I think I remember being very sad, but I might simply be inferring that from the evidence. I have these scars _(notes slashes on wrists)_ and I remember sitting in a temple in Kyoto with a knife and some pills. I didn't have the scars before then, so I must have tried to kill myself. Clearly I failed.  
  
It's hard to imagine from those scars how you survived.  
  
Subject H: Haven't they told you about me?  
  
Told me what?  
  
Subject H: That I may be the product of bioengineering. I've survived physical damage that should have killed me lots of times, and healed in ways that aren't-normal? It should be in my service records.  
  
Yes. (This had in fact come up with D, and has been verified) I've also looked at your treatment records. This has caused problems with medication. Very high doses of drugs like sleep aides and anti-psychotics. Doses that would have killed most people, but had little effect on you. You have an unusual metabolism.  
  
Subject H: Yes. Unusual.  
  
And luckily so. Would you agree with that sentiment, H?  
  
Subject H: Sitting here now, yes. But before? No.  
  
I'm glad to hear you say that. You're in much better spirits than I'd expected. But returning a moment to the suicide attempt, you recall having pills of some sort. Do you know what they were?  
  
Subject H: No, but it's likely that they were Unadol. I'd been taking that and it helped more than any of the others. When I ran away, I kept myself supplied.  
  
Did you steal them, H?  
  
Subject H: _(no reply. Face quite expressionless.)_  
  
Very well. You might have had a supply of the prescription anti-psychotic Unadol. Any idea how much you might have taken?  
  
Subject H: No, but I suspect that I'd have calculated what I thought would be a lethal dose. I'd do that sort of thing for any mission: plan and calculate. I was taking 2500 milligrams as a therapeutic dosage, and probably did some research into the relations between dosage, body mass-that sort of thing. I'm sure I took a lot to insure the result I was after. But obviously I miscalculated.  
  
But there is a good chance that you did take it?  
  
Subject H: Like I said, I remember having some sort of prescription pills with me, along with the knife. I don't remember using either, but I probably wouldn't have had them if I didn't plan to use them.  
  
Are you a Buddhist, H?  
  
Subject H: No. Why?  
  
You said you remember sitting in a Buddhist temple. I wondered if you'd gone there to pray, make peace, or something of that nature.  
  
Subject H: Ah. No, I doubt that. It was winter and I was homeless. I was probably just in there for shelter.  
  
Perhaps. Did you feel peaceful there?  
  
Subject H: In the temple? I don't remember. I doubt it. If I'd felt better I wouldn't have tried to kill myself.  
  
Is it wrong to kill yourself?  
  
Subject H: It's wasteful to throw your life away without accomplishing some goal in the process.  
  
That's your training talking?  
  
Subject H: That's common sense, Doctor. I don't hold life to be worthless. I think it's better to go on living as long as you can be useful. A sacrifice should accomplish something.  
  
Good. My impression is that you are no longer suicidal, although we will be keeping you under observation a little longer, just to be safe.  
  
Subject H: I'm certain I'm not, but thank you.  
  
I'd like to touch on something you said at the beginning of the session. You mentioned feeling "peaceful" and that that was a new experience for you. Can you elaborate?  
  
Subject H: _(he smiles slightly, more with his eyes than his mouth. His eyes are a striking dark blue and very expressive.)_ I have no stated mission. I have no job, no home, and no clear purpose. Yet that does not make me feel uncomfortable in any way. I don't feel paranoid or sad. My friends are here; they seem well and are happy to be with me. Physically, I have no reason to believe that I will not recover fully and be strong and useful at something. I'm reasonably intelligent, assuming I've suffered no permanent damage. I can be trained for something. Yes, that makes me feel peaceful. Perhaps hopeful as well.  
  
You sound like a young man with his whole life ahead of him.  
  
Subject H: I am. _(Clearly taking my comment quite literally.)_  
  
What do you think you'd like to do with your life, H? Any ideas?  
  
Subject H: I think I should wait until I find out more about my prognosis before I make any plans.  
  
Yes, but hypothetically, what would you like to do? Anything at all. It doesn't have to be job related, just something you can imagine yourself doing.  
  
Subject H: _(thinks for some time about this. Finally smiles and shrugs.)_ I want to be with my friends. Duo says they're trying to learn what normal is. I'm not so sure what they've tried so far is normal, but I'd like to do things with them. I don't want to be alone anymore.  
  
I think that's a fine plan. And I think D will be very glad to hear it. You're very important to him, you know.  
  
Subject H: _(blushes noticeably.)_  
  
On that note, H, there is something I've been curious about. Technically, I'm supposed to keep treatment of different patients separate, but you and D are so intertwined in extraordinarily unique experiences. I'm considering joint sessions with the two of you. Would you be willing to try that?  
  
Subject H: If it would help him, sure.  
  
There is one incident in particular that I've had difficulty approaching with him. Since it involved you as well, I'd appreciate your perspective.  
  
Subject H: What is it?  
  
D has alluded several times to a night during the war when he was wounded and you were the only one there to care for him. He doesn't talk about it in any detail, avoids it, in fact, when I try to press him, yet it's clearly something very important to him. What occurred between-- H? Are you unwell? Dr. Santos, call for a nurse!  
  
_(Subject H stood and attempted to leave room, then fainted. The expression on his face just before was most unsettling. In truth, it was frightening.)_  
  
_Addendum: H carried back to room, still unconscious. May be nothing more than a stress reaction, considering his physical state, but it seems increasingly likely that they shared some traumatic event. D was waiting for H and extremely angry when he learned what had upset H. I have been informed, via Q that D does not wish to speak with me for unspecified time. Under normal circumstances, I would remove myself from this case. However, these are anything but normal circumstances. Will await further communication with both subjects before I make any decisions._  
  
_Re Medications: Both Dr. Santos and I remain uncertain how to best proceed. H remains on antibiotics and analgesics. Not psychotropic drugs strongly indicated as yet._  
  
_MRI, CT, and spinal fluid eval. all return negative. Comparison to earlier records, pre-overdose, indicates that for reasons as yet unverified, certain earlier noted anomalies have regenerated to near normal levels. Dr. Santos and I both speculate that given HY's abnormal physiology, an otherwise lethal dose of Unadol (Speculation. See above interview) may actually have effected a cure of some degree. For whatever reason, his serotonin uptake is functioning at a comparatively normal level at this time. This should not be possible, but then, neither should many other documented physical events surrounding this patient._  
  
_Second Addendum: Several hours have passed. H recovered quickly, with some embarrassment, but will not talk to me. All five "Gundam Boys" have gone quite cool toward me and closed ranks, as it were. Sadly, H also seems to be distancing himself from the others for now and is currently alone in his room. A serious misstep on my part, I fear, but not disastrous.  
_  
_I have worked with members of many elite fighting units during and since the war, but they are all quite unique. I remind myself that, military records aside, training aside, these are still, in the final analysis, teenage boys I am dealing with, not grown men._


	12. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

"You asked him about that?" Duo shouted at Batoosingh, mortified and livid with anger. Dr. Santos had given over her office for the confrontation, but Duo would have just as happily have had it out in the corridor if Trowa hadn't helped steer him aside. The taller boy slipped silently out, but not before giving Duo a warning look.   
  
"What? It's not like I'm the bad guy here!" Duo snarled, but Trowa had just shut the door. Duo rounded on Batoosingh. The doctor stood by the window, polishing his glasses on his necktie. "I can't even talk about--that--to you after all our sessions and you hit him with it the first fucking day? You know he's in his room now? Alone? He doesn't want to talk to anyone!"  
  
Batoosingh sighed and shook his head. "Again, Duo, I apologize for any discomfort this is causing. If either or both of you wish to find another doctor, that is your right. However, I suggest that this is a core issue for you both, whatever it is. The fact that you both react so strongly around it after how long? Two years? Three? Yet you cannot even discuss it between yourselves--"  
  
Duo realized it was a question of walking away or punching the good doctor in the face. He knew he owed the man more than that. He walked away.  
  
"You're going to have to deal with whatever it is with him, Duo," Batoosingh called after him.   
  
Duo flipped him off and slammed the door. Trowa was leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for him. The jeans, baggy dark green sweater and hair hanging in his face made him look like a skinny, rather sullen teen, but Duo caught the sharp look in those green eyes as he came out. Trowa had been through too many "Duo meltdowns" before; he was on alert.  
  
"Thanks! That went well," Duo growled, stalking past him.   
  
"Maxwell!" Trowa caught him by the arm and yanked him back sharply enough to whip Duo's braid against his arm. Sometimes Duo foolishly forgot just how strong the young acrobat ex-warrior really was. 'Silly me, after the ass blisterings he's given me.' Those long fingers clamped around his wrist like a vise. He wasn't going anywhere without dragging Trowa with him.  
  
"You can't just go storming out of here," Trowa said. "The more commotion you stir up, the sooner the press is going to find us. Is that what you want? Are you going to throw one of your famous tantrums, or run around hurting yourself, with him lying in there needing you to be the strong one for once?" Before Duo could open his mouth, Trowa gave him a hard shake, glaring at him. "The answer better be 'No, Trowa. I'm sorry, Trowa. You're absolutely right, Trowa. Heero's well-being comes first, Trowa,' or I'm going to be very, very upset with you."  
  
Blushing, Duo quickly rattled off, "I'm sorry, Trowa. You're absolutely right, Trowa. Heero's well-being comes first. Seriously. This isn't one of my tantrums or a breakdown." He jerked his thumb back at the office. "That in there? The doc stepped in something really personal between me and Heero. Something I've got to fix. Me. This just is sooner than I'd expected. I was hoping Heero would get a little stronger before--"  
  
Trowa's iron grip softened a little. "Before what, Duo? Is this about something that happened with you two during the war?"  
  
Duo looked up sharply, but Trowa only shrugged. "You haven't seen him in two years, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Look, let me handle this. If I need backup, you and Quatre will be the first to know. OK?"  
  
"OK, but deal with it." Trowa slid his hands into his pockets and sauntered away.   
  
Duo yanked at the end of his braid, scowling. This was a setback for all of them. No one wanted to leave Madrid until Heero could go with them, and no one wanted him leaving the hospital until the doctors had had a good look at him. That left the other four cooped up in the cramped guest hostel across the street, sneaking around like they had in their terrorist days to avoid undue attention. Having Heero collapse during his first therapy session was not an encouraging sign.   
  
He paused at Heero's door and was glad to see it unlocked, on the outside, at least. Two days of observation and the docs had already figured out that Heero was no threat to anyone, except possibly himself. Hesitating, hand on the knob, he peered in through the port.   
  
Heero lay curled on his side under the blankets, facing away from the door. The black sweater he'd borrowed from Duo was thrown over the end of the bed, along with the jeans. Duo looked down at his own clothing. He'd dressed up today: tan jeans and a dark blue velvet shirt Quatre had talked him into during a moment of shopping weakness. He looked good in it, for sure, but he wasn't quite sure why he'd grabbed it in his hasty packing frenzy the other day. He remembered vaguely thinking it might be chilly on Earth this time of year and grabbed whatever looked warm. Actually, he'd been right about that. It was cold, and rainy since yesterday. Autumn was coming early in Spain.  
  
He turned the knob and stepped quietly inside, not wanting to wake Heero if he was asleep. He slept a lot, and was starting to put on a little weight.  
  
"I don't want to talk right now, Duo."   
  
"It's OK, Heero. I'm just sorry he brought--"  
  
"Duo, please!" Still soft, but the tone left no room for argument.  
  
"All right. No problem. Need anything, buddy?"  
  
"Just-- No, thank you. I want to sleep."  
  
Duo was tempted to override Heero and sit with him anyway. This sudden mood change was scaring him. Heero had been mostly happy since Duo and the others had shown up. It was a little freaky, seeing Heero "Death Glare" Yuy smile so much, but Duo had been all too eager to take that as a good sign. Now he wasn't so sure, being the resident expert on mood disorders and all.   
  
'If this was me, what would Trowa and Kat do?' he asked himself, much more accustomed to being on the receiving end of such care. For mild downturns in the early days, they'd drag him out to do something fun, then make him sleep over at their house, or just dog pile on the couch with him and watch old movies until he cheered up. If it was a bad depression, they'd drag him off to the doctor. 'But only if they saw me and caught it in time,' he thought. In the early days of the peace, they'd been more distant. He rubbed nervously at the scars on his wrists and smiled darkly; at least his near-death experiences had brought them closer. Quite the foundation for a warm and enduring not-sexual-but-almost relationship.  
  
Looking at Heero now, though, he remembered all those other times, days at a stretch sometimes, when he'd just wanted to curl up like a sick dog and shut out the world. Sometimes that had been all he needed. But others . . .   
  
He went to the bed and rested a hand on Heero's shoulder. The dark haired man's eyes were closed and he was rigid with tension. "I'd rather stay," Duo said quietly, trying to rub the tension from the bicep under his hand.  
  
"Not. Now." You could have chipped ice off those words.  
  
Hurt, Duo withdrew his hand. "Fine. I'll check in with you later. By the way, I gave Batoosingh hell."  
  
So he wasn't expecting a hearty 'thank you' right now, but he also wasn't expecting Heero to pull the blanket over his head and try to make himself even smaller in the bed. Duo retreated, managing not to slam the door this time. Why was Heero pissed at him? He hadn't done anything!  
  
Except hint at the events of that long ago night. To an outsider.  
  
Shit, did Heero think he'd spilled the whole pathetic story? And even if he had, what was he so upset about? Heero had been the injured party, after all.  
  
He almost went back in, but changed his mind. Slouching away down the hall, Duo grudgingly decided that Dr. B. was probably right. If Heero not only remembered it, but felt this bad about it, they'd probably better talk about it. Funny thing was, now that he knew that Heero was alive and still around _to_ talk about it, it just didn't seem like that big a deal anymore.  
  
Trowa fell into step beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. "You all right?"  
  
Duo sagged against him. "He needs some quiet time, I guess."   
  
Trowa put a finger under Duo's chin and tilted his face up, looking into his eyes. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I dunno. Heero wouldn't talk to me."  
  
"I'll take that as a no. Anything I can do?"  
  
"I don't think you and Kat can kiss this and make it better, Tro. I've gotta start acting like a grown up and get Heero past whatever it is he's going through."   
  
Ignoring the concerned looks they got as the passed the nurses station, Trowa kept an arm around him as he guided him into the elevator and hit the down button. "I know you can handle it, Duo. You wanted him back so badly. This is like a second chance."   
  
"Yeah. I guess I'm just not used to being the strong one, huh?"  
  
Trowa kissed him on the side of the head. "Shinigami's just got to keep the mission in mind."  
  
"Mission accepted. Fix Heero."   
  
Outside the rain was still falling, turning midday into early dusk. Chestnut trees lined the avenue, and fallen leaves lay like a wet golden carpet underfoot. Duo checked quickly for lurking reporters, then bent to pick up a shiny brown chestnut. It was one of the things he liked most, being Earth-side. There was almost always something interesting laying round, something natural. He had a whole shoebox full of shells and bird feathers from their trip to the Cape. He slipped the chestnut into his pocket. Trowa saw and grinned. Neither of them had had much as a kid; Trowa still didn't hang onto much, except for Quatre. Duo found himself drawn to stupid, simple little things like the nut or some new piece of clothing.   
  
That last thought, together with the fresh gust of rain that pelted them them as they ran across to the old brick hostel, gave Duo an idea. "You and Kat wanna go shopping with me? "he asked as they took the stairs to their second floor rooms. "Heero needs clothes, and I need a decent coat. One a little more stylish and a lot less conspicuous than that stolen Preventer jacket."  
  
"Wufei borrowed them," Trowa said, then laughed. "Didn't he?"  
  
"Whatever. But Heero needs everything, and having something to wear that actually fits and belongs to him might cheer him up, right?"  
  
"Good plan, Shinigami."  
  
They occupied three adjoining rooms along the hallway. It was an old building, pre-Colonial, like most of the city. The floors were tiled with black and white mosaics, and the walls painted a rather musty-looking green, with a few ornate ironwork light fixtures overhead. The doors were dark wood, with frosted glass transoms over them. Light showed through the glass over the second and third doors; Quatre and Wufei were both in. Trowa went to speak with Quatre as Duo knocked at Wufei's door.  
  
The Chinese man answered, looking a little fuddled. Duo could hear some weird bell and horn music playing softly, and smelled the incense 05 always burned when he was meditating. Duo sniffed again, wondering if that was pot smoke he smelled, mixed in with the rest. Not that he'd dare ask, of course. "We're going clothes shopping for Heero. Maybe get some lunch not served on a plastic tray. Wanna come?"  
  
Wufei considered the offer, then frowned slightly as Quatre emerged from his room carrying a studded black biker jacket and dressed in a loose, acid green silk shirt and black leather pants. To be fair, this was one of Kat's more subdued outfits lately--the pants didn't have lace-up sides or embroidery or sheer mesh panels.   
  
"Way not to attract attention, Winner!" Wufei muttered.   
  
"What?" Quatre asked, looking down at himself in surprise. "I'm not even wearing any jewelry or makeup. I feel practically naked."  
  
"Tight as those pants are--?" Wufei pressed his lips together and quickly averted his gaze. "No, thanks, I'll stay here in case Heero needs someone. Do you have your phones?" Everyone held up their cells. "I'll let the hopsital know to call me, and I'll call if there's any change."   
  
He looked from Quatre's pants to Duo's blue velvet shirt again and rolled his eyes. "Barton, I hope you have final say on any wardrobe choices for Heero." Judging by the fleeting look of distaste in the staid man's dark eyes he probably thought they'd come back with pink cashmere slacks or one of the black kilts that were currently still in fashion, thanks to Duo's eccentric "G-Boy" wedding attire.  
  
"I think I know what Heero would like," Duo assured him, though as soon as he'd said it, he wondered if that was true. He hadn't really intended to come back with Spandex shorts and tank tops, but who knew what Heero's tastes were these days? The rags he'd been found in looked more like something he'd been given by a charitable agency, rather than a choice. Still, Duo was reasonably certain leather pants, anything pastel, and kilts were out of the question, no matter how fashionable. He'd only worn that one kilt to please Quatre, though he had looked rather hot in it, even if he and most of the fashion industry did say so.   
  
Duo ducked into his room for his jacket. Turning on the light, he found it where he'd left it, crumpled at the foot of the bed. He wasn't the greatest housekeeper. The few clothes he'd brought with him were already scattered to the four corners of the room. The room was simple, just temporary housing maintained by the hospital for the families of patients in crisis: a narrow iron bed with a worn chenille spread, a dresser, and a chair and small desk currently occupied by Duo's laptop, scattered newspapers and hospital forms, empty take out boxes and his Preventer cap. He sat down and turned on the laptop to do a quick search for likely shopping districts. While it powered up he pulled a thin blade from his braid and used it to cut the Preventer insignia from the jacket. Better he should be seen wearing retro surplus than a uniform.   
  
"Duo, come on. I'm starving!" Quatre urged, leaning in his doorway.   
  
"Yeah, yeah!" Duo muttered, fingers flying over the keys now. "Clothing. Men's. Young men's. Bingo. Hey, call a cab, will ya? We're gonna need it. Closest hunting grounds are at least ten blocks away and I'm not getting soaked."   
  
Rummaging in the satchel that doubled as computer case and briefcase, he found a notepad and jotted down a few likely addresses. The satchel slipped off his lap, spilling half its contents, but he left it for later. What was a little more mess, after all?  
  
Thinking of doing something nice for Heero lifted his spirits considerably. The sooner they went, the sooner he could reappear bearing gifts. If Heero didn't cheer up, he'd sic Kat and Trowa on him. He grinned at the thought. Heero would snap out of it just fine. If he was feeling up to it, maybe they could even coax him out somewhere dark and casual for a decent tapas or something. Then, maybe, it would be time to talk.  
  
"Duu--o!"  
  
Considerably more cheerful than he had been half an hour ago, Duo patted himself down for keys and wallet, then bounded for the door, brandishing the addresses. "I'm coming, already! Oi, Trowa, is your wife always such a nag?"  
  
Trowa defended his mate's honor by throwing a headlock on Duo as soon as he closed his door. "How many time do I have to tell you, don't call him--"  
  
"Oh, come off it! He loves it and you know it!" Duo laughed, struggling free. The blond boy was, in fact, grinning. "It's better than 'partner', right, Kat? Makes you two sound like business associates or some shit. Or cowboys!" Slipping an arm around Quatre's slim, silk-clad waist, he bumped hips with him and drawled, "C'mon, pardner, let's mosey them leather pants of yers into ma lil' ol' luuuv corral!"  
  
Trowa swatted Duo on the ass. "I brought my hairbrush, Maxwell!"   
  
Duo yelped and ducked behind Quatre. "And your hand! Ow!"  
  
Wufei let out a strangled growl and closed his door on them. Even over Kat's laughter, they heard the lock snap firmly into place.  
  
+  
  
Heero slept the afternoon away and woke feeling uneasy. It was nearly dark outside, and rain was beating on the barred window. Fumbling for the light, he sat up and pushed the hair out of his eyes, wondering what time it was. He hated sleeping in the daytime. He always felt disoriented afterwards. He'd done far too much of that lately.  
  
Dressing quickly, he went to the door and was relieved to find it unlocked. Apparently his regrettable outburst with Dr. Batoosingh hadn't changed his status yet. He headed down the corridor toward the nursing station to find out the time and where his friends were. Passing at the open door of Dr. Santos' office, he saw her and Batoosingh there, talking quietly over coffee. He paused, uncertain. They looked up and both smiled.  
  
Heero folded his arms tightly across his chest. "I wish to apologize for what happened earlier, Doctor. You-- Well, you just took me by surprise."  
  
Batoosingh came over and extended a hand. "It's I who owe you an apology for being too hasty and far too insensitive. Your friends are not very happy with me, I'm afraid."  
  
"Why?" Heero asked, baffled.  
  
"For upsetting you, of course. Duo is furious."  
  
"I'll speak to him. Where is he?"  
  
"He and Mr. Barton-Winner went across to the guest house. I believe Capitan Chang and Mr. Winner-Barton are there as well," Dr. Santos told him. "I haven't seen any of them since."  
  
"May I go speak with him there?" Heero asked, then wished he hadn't. He hadn't left the building without an escort of some sort since he'd arrived. The last thing he needed right now was reinforcement that he wasn't trusted on his own.  
  
Dr. Batoosingh didn't immediately forbid it, however. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Heero considered this and shrugged. "Not crazy? Not a danger to myself or others, anyway."  
  
"Doctor Santos?"  
  
The silver-haired woman gave Heero a warm smile. "I have seen nothing in Capitan Yuy's behavior to indicate otherwise. You are free to leave the building, so long as you leave word where we can reach you."  
  
Heero felt a rush of relief. Perhaps he hadn't damaged his chances of getting out of here so badly as he'd feared. "Thank you for your confidence, Doctors. And please, there's no need to call my by rank. I resigned that some time ago. Just 'Heero' is fine."  
  
Dr. Santos nodded. "Very well, Heero. Go see your friends. If you decide to go out with them, just leave word at the station, and a number where we can reach you. There are some very fine restaurants a few streets over. Let me know if you need a recommendation."  
  
"I will. Dr. Batoosingh, do you think we could try another session tomorrow? I--uh, I don't know if I am ready to discuss certain things, but only because they are very personal and not life threatening to me or anyone else."  
  
Batoosingh consulted a small electronic planner on the desk. "I have some vid phone sessions with my L-2 patients, but I can fit you in at two o'clock."  
  
Heero made a note of the time, the glanced up at the wall clock above Santos. It was nearly five.   
  
It felt good, taking the elevator alone, then walking out through the busy hospital lobby without bracing for orderlies trying to wrestle him back upstairs. Perhaps he really wasn't so crazy anymore, after all.   
  
He pondered that as he crossed the street to the hostel. Aside from the rush of panic, embarrassment, and shock that had overcome him earlier, he continued to feel quite clear-headed and in control. There had been no hallucinations or voices or violent impulses, no panic attacks or sleepwalking. His body was recovering quickly, too, though he had no real strength yet, and probably little endurance. Climbing the stairs to Duo's room left him a winded, but he could sense himself healing. The skin rashes were almost entirely gone and his joints didn't ache the way they had. Right now, in fact, all he really needed was some food and company.   
  
He liked the thought of eating out with the others, like a normal person. They'd done that a few times, right after the truce. It had been nice. He searched his memory, trying to recall what kind of food Duo liked, apart from pizza and coffee.  
  
Light showed through the transom over Duo's door. The other two were dark. He knocked, but there was no answer.   
  
"Duo?"  
  
Still no answer. Perhaps he was asleep? As he stood listening, Heero noted with satisfaction that he hadn't immediately assumed that Duo had been murdered or captured. No visions of blood or mayhem, just the logical conclusion that Duo was either asleep or had gone out without turning out the lights. He put his hand to the knob and turned. It was unlocked. That was unwise, but indicated the former supposition was the most likely.   
  
If Duo had fallen asleep with the door unlocked, it would be prudent to secure the room, or at least keep watch until he woke up. Heero opened the door as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake him. It was polite, not to want to startle one's friends, perfectly normal. It was also unwise to startle a former terrorist, even one who'd grown lax enough to leave his door unlocked.  
  
The room was empty. He stepped out into the hall and double-checked the other rooms. No, still dark. Another thought suddenly intruded, brining with it a flash of that nasty emotion called jealousy. Duo slept with Trowa and Quatre sometimes. Maybe he was next door with them? Heero's imagination conjured up the unwelcome image of the three of them together in a bed like the one on front of him. It was a single, narrow for three people unless they lay very close . . .  
  
Heero pushed the thought away and took a careful look around the room, checking for any signs of struggle, though more out of habit than actual concern.  
  
It was hard to tell, actually. The room was a mess. The contents of Duo's green nylon duffle bag appeared to have exploded at some point. There were clothes everywhere, including a lone sock dangling from the dusty overheard light fixture.   
  
Otherwise, the room appeared undisturbed. The computer was open on the desk, the furniture in place. The bed was made, but the spread was rumpled and strewn with newspapers. Heero had roomed with Duo often enough during missions to know Duo Maxwell was a slob by nature. Picking his way across to the desk, he tapped the computer keyboard. The screen sprang to life, showing a tourist map with shopping areas highlighted. That probably explained where everyone was, though not the unlocked door. He settled down to wait.   
  
The newspaper was one he'd already read. Sitting at the desk, he closed the window with the map and called up his bank records. None of the funds had been touched, but someone had accessed his files three days ago, hacking his password to do it. His lips quirked in a small, knowing smile; he was reasonably certain who'd done it. He changed the password, strengthened the encryption, and transferred two thousand credits to a local bank.   
  
The laptop was outfitted with a retinal scan port. He was halfway through applying for a new driver's license and global ID card when he realized he had no permanent address to give, or any idea of what it was likely to be in the near future. He cleared the form and sat back with a sigh. The time for fake IDs with phony addresses was over. He was finally going to have to establish a real home of some sort, get a job, decide what to do with himself beyond drifting from one day to the next. Looking around the messy room, he wondered if Duo would mind a roommate for a while, until he figured things out.   
  
Actually, what Duo needed was a maid. With nothing else to do, Heero started tidying up. Both Odin Lowe and Dr. J had trained him to keep things orderly. It was a matter of safety, of knowing where things were when you needed them, and not having anything underfoot between you and the nearest exit.   
  
Duo hadn't brought much with him. The clothes had all been worn. Heero gave the various shirts the sniff test and laid two out to air. The Preventer uniform blouse smelled the way Duo's black clerical shirt used to after a few missions. Wrinkling his nose, Heero stuffed that into the duffle, along with the other dirty clothes. Oddly, there didn't seem to be any undershorts. Heero sincerely hoped Duo wasn't still wearing a single pair for a week at a time, the way he used to. Raised in poverty, often on the streets, Duo hadn't been as well grounded in the basics of personal hygiene as the rest of them. He'd seemed clean enough since arriving here, though.   
  
Heero checked the bathroom for a hamper or dirty laundry pile, but found nothing but a few toiletries and some strands of long hair in the bottom of the shower. The room smelled good, the way Duo did now. There was no cologne or aftershave in sight, but he found a bottle of shampoo in the shower and a bar of expensive looking soap, both scented with sandelwood.   
  
Heero used the toilet, rinsed his face, and remembered that he hadn't brushed his teeth since he'd woken up. He squeezed some of Duo's mint-flavored toothpaste onto his finger and did a field cleaning. A small zippered bag lay on the side of the sink. As Heero put the toothpaste away he noticed three pill bottles inside, with prescription labels. He checked them quickly. Duo and Quatre had both spoken of Duo's bipolar disorder. Heero put them back and took a quick inventory of the rest of the contents: toothbrush, floss, deodorant, a large tube of depilatory gel, eyeliner--  
  
Eyeliner? Heero blinked in surprise and read the label on the slim pencil: "'Smoky Kohl by ManMade'?" Heero thought of the green toenail polish Duo was wearing under his boots; Duo had blamed that on Quatre. Was this Quatre's doing, too?   
  
Digging deeper in the bag, he found a tube of clear lip gloss, a bottle of hair conditioner, a wide-toothed comb, some familiar-looking hair elastics and, inside an inner pocket of the bag, half dozen "High Performance" condoms in heavy foil wrappers and a tube of EZ Rider Hypoallergenic Personal Lubricant. The seal was broken and some of it was gone. Heero swallowed hard as he quickly replaced the contents of the bag, wishing now that he'd minded his own business.   
  
He hadn't noticed Duo wearing any make up. Who knew if Smoky Kohl was even a suitable color for lavender-blue eyes? That and the lip-gloss could belong to a woman Duo had traveled with, perhaps used the condoms with. Of course, condoms were necessary for safe sex with either gender. Heero felt equally queasy and vaguely offended at either prospect. Whatever the case, it seemed Duo was prepared to have sex with someone. That nasty feeling stirred in Heero's stomach again, along with guilt at having invaded a friend's privacy. He had no claim on Duo. After all, they'd never been lovers.  
  
Disgusted with himself, Heero went back to the bedroom and cleared the empty food containers on the desk into the trashcan, then folded the newspaper and threw it away. There were more papers, books, pens, and notebooks on the floor under the desk, apparently spilled from an overturned satchel. Heero gathered everything up and put it on the bed, intending to put it away in some semblance of order.   
  
There were three books. Curious, he scanned the titles. The first two were worn paperbacks: a motorcycle maintenance manual and a tattered paperback book of poetry by someone named T.S. Elliot. The picture on the cover showed a pale, sad-looking man in thick spectacles and a suit of some odd cut. He reminded Heero of J. He set both books aside and picked up the third. This one was a thin, expensive-looking hardcover bound in blue leather with gold lettering on the spine: Peter Pan, by J. M. Barrie. Heero smiled. He knew this one. He'd read it years ago.   
  
Inside the front cover he found a handwritten inscription in Quatre's careful, looping script: "To Duo from Quatre  & Trowa 'Second to the right and straight on till morning.' Be well." A gift, then, given during one of Duo's hospital stays.   
  
He thumbed through it, hoping it was an illustrated copy. It was. He found brightly colored plates of red indians, boys dressed as animals, and flying children with swords and teddy bears. This Peter was small and slant-eyed, but didn't look like a girl, the way he did in the book Heero had read. He paused at a picture of Captain Hook. The proud, handsome face and arrogant bearing reminded him of Relena's brother.   
  
The artwork was very nice. Heero paged through again, wondering if there was a picture of the mermaids. Several sheets of lined notebook paper fluttered out from between the pages onto the bedspread. They were folded in half and covered on both sides with Duo's awkward scrawl. As he went to tuck them back into the book, he caught sight of the first line on the top page. It was a letter, undated and began, "Dear Heero . . ." Without thinking, he read the line below it.   
_  
'You've been gone--like, really gone--for five months now.'_  
  
Heero sank down on the bed, suddenly dizzy. There was no date. Did "gone" mean when he'd left Relena's, or did the "really gone" mean when Duo thought he was dead?   
  
Heero sat there for some moments, holding the letter and warring with himself. It was addressed to him. Technically, it was his to read. Maybe Duo was intending to give it to him? Still, it felt like an invasion of privacy, like finding those condoms.   
  
_'Sometimes it seems like forever. Sometimes it seems like I saw you yesterday. I dream about you a lot. I'm living with Tro and Quatre at the circus for now. I sell tickets and paint kid's faces and help Quatre make costumes. I'm pretty good. They're married, if you can believe that. I was the bridesmaid. Wufei was shocked. You probably would have been, too, though you could have been the best man. Tro would have asked you, you know, if you'd been here to ask.'_  
  
That helped. Trowa and Quatre had held their ceremony a little over a year ago, before Heero had tried to kill himself.   
_  
'This letter was Dr. B's dumb idea, so don't laugh. He claims that answering that holocard you sent might do me some good, even though you've done a better than average job of keeping your address secret. Really outdid yourself this time, you asshole. That sounds kind of angry, doesn't it? But I'm not allowed to erase anything. I promised I'd just keep writing. I don't have to show this to anyone if I don't want to, so I can say anything to you I want. '_  
  
'Oh god,' Heero thought, 'Duo wrote this when he thought I was dead.' He shouldn't read this. He should put it back where he found it and dump the satchel back on the floor like he found it and pretend he'd never seen it. But the next words caught his eye, dragging him on a few more lines. 'Just a few,' he promised himself. 'Just a few.'   
_  
'I love you too, you idiot. I always loved you one way or another. I just didn't think you could love me back. Not that you wouldn't, just that you didn't know how. What's this bullshit then? I love you, Duo. What's that mean, huh? I mean, why would you stay away like that and then tell me that when you were only going to off yourself and go away for good, huh? I swear to god if you were here right now I'd shoot you in the leg again.'_ The ink was splotched and smudged here, but he could still make out the words. _'OK, I am angry. Fuck it, I'm fucking furious with you, you prick! Did you think that would make it easier, to finally get those words from you and then have you die? Fuck you, Heero Yuy. Fuck you and your training and your duty and all that perfect soldier shit. '  
  
_ The sheets fluttered from Heero's fingers, scattering out across the dusty carpet. He covered his face with both hands and tried to get his breath. That last paragraph echoed in his mind in Duo's hurt, angry voice. _'Did you think that would make it easier, to finally get those words from you and then have you die? Fuck you, Heero Yuy. Fuck you and your training . . .'_  
  
"What did I do?" he whispered, and felt wetness against his fingers. He took his hands away and stared. Tears. There were tears on his hand, on his cheeks. He was crying. What had he written to Duo, in that final destructive fugue state? Was this the holocard he was supposed to ask him about? 'I love you, Duo.' Apparently he'd written that, at least.   
  
He pulled Duo's emails from his back pocket and unfolded them. Duo sounded so happy to hear from him here, so relieved. 'Love, Duo.' He'd signed them both that way. Heero recalled his confused reaction to those words, associating them with some past sadness of his own. Evidently he'd told Duo he loved him right before he'd tried to die and Duo had known what he was doing. That pain came flooding back now, driving him to his knees beside the bed. This hurt. Why did him loving Duo, admitting it, hurt them both so badly?  
  
He heard the door open, but he couldn't move, just stayed where he was, head bowed, too miserable to care.   
  
"What the hell--?" Duo's low growl.  
  
The sound of a pistol being cocked, the smell of gun oil. Heero didn't care.   
  
"Heero! Shit, what's wrong? Heero?" Duo was kneeling beside him now, unarmed, gripping him by the shoulder and sounding worried.   
  
"I'm sorry!" Heero gasped, hating how weak he sounded. "I--I'm so sorry!"  
  
Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling his face against damp new wool. Heero stiffened and tried to pull back. He didn't deserve such consideration.   
  
"What happened, Heero?" Duo asked. "Please tell me. You're scaring me, buddy." He gently pried Heero's hands free and turned the wrists up. "Thank god!" and then Heero was being held more tightly than ever. "Come on, Heero. Talk to me."  
  
"I didn't mean--to read. I just saw my name and thought--" Heero pointed blindly at the fallen sheets of paper. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Duo. I don't even remember writing. I never want to hurt you, but I do. I hurt you again--" He couldn't go on. He didn't remember ever crying like this, but now that he was, he couldn't make it stop. It hurt.  
  
"Oh, Heero!" Duo was rubbing his back now, not sounding angry at all. "You weren't supposed to see that. That was--it was like therapy, when I thought you were dead. I would never have said most of that to you for real. Did you read the whole thing?"  
  
"Nuh-no," Heero managed. "Just some of the first page."  
  
"Well, if you've seen that much, maybe you should read the rest. Just don't take the angry stuff too seriously, OK? I'm over that. I understand what you were going through now. But I didn't back then and I was pretty scared and sick and miserable myself. Here, go on. I can't read it out loud without totally losing it and one of us has to hold it together, right?"  
  
"Duo?" Quatre hovered in the doorway, with the others just behind him. "Wufei fell asleep. What's going-- Heero?"  
  
"It's all right, Kat. Give us a while, OK?"   
  
Quatre nodded and pulled the door closed.  
  
Heero let out a moan, too mortified for words. Duo pulled something from under the bed. It was a box of facial tissue. Heero wiped his face and blew his nose. Duo gathered the fallen papers and smoothed them against his knee. "Show me where you left off?"  
  
Heero didn't want to. He didn't want to see the pain there, but he did, pointing out the line.  
  
"Yeah, I was getting pretty cranked up, wasn't I?" Duo said with a rueful laugh. "But that's not what the letter is really about, trust me. Please read the rest."  
  
Armed with a handful of fresh tissues, Heero took a deep breath and read on.  
  
_'Shit. It wasn't your fault, OK? Any more than it was my fault getting born in the slums. Neither of us chose but what am I supposed to do now, go piss on J's grave? I might just do that some time, if he has one. I'll shit on it like a dog.  
  
'But not yours. I wish I could put flowers on your grave. That's one of the reasons I'm mad and hurt for the way you did it. If you had to go and die on me, then why can't I have somewhere I can go where some part of you is, even if it's just the bones, and lay down and cry until my tears soak down through the dirt to touch you? Didn't I at least rate that much consideration? Great, now I'm crying again and that's your fault too, god damn it!'_  
  
Heero had to stop and wipe his eyes. "A grave?"  
  
"Just read," Duo said softly. Wrapping an arm around Heero, he rested his chin on his shoulder, following along with him.   
  
_'No one has ever made me cry as much as you, Heero Yuy, so I guess it must be love, right? Of course I love you! Why didn't I grab you and hold you down and tell you that over and over again until you got it? Why did I let you slip away like that? I could have gone to you when you were with Relena but I was so sick and tired from it all and it always seemed like tomorrow was soon enough. I guess I was a little pissed even then that you chose being around her over being with me.'_  
  
Heero marked the passage with his finger. "You were with that girl after the war."  
  
"Yeah. That was pretty messed up, right from the get-go."  
  
Heero noted this and read on. _'Did you think I didn't care? That I'd forgotten about that night? I never did. I thought you meant what you said, though, about it being a mistake.'_  
  
Heero went cold. He looked up into Duo's eyes, finding only a gentle sadness there. "You were thinking about that? The night in the silo?"  
  
"You thought I'd forget? Keep reading."  
  
Heero did, but his stomach hurt now, and it wasn't jealousy. _'You seemed so shocked, so angry with yourself and you wouldn't listen! I wish I could go back to that night and get my head clear enough to figure out better what I was feeling so I could have helped you. God, I wish you'd gone through with it, young and confused as we both were. I wish you'd just done me, even if it did hurt. Even if we did it wrong and totally messed it up. Just to not be left with nothing but the memory of the guilt in your eyes. Even fear. That's the only time I ever saw you look afraid of anything and it was yourself. Or was it me? Maybe I scared you. I guess it doesn't matter now. We fucked up, huh?'_  
  
"Duo, I don't understand. This makes it sound like--like it wasn't--"  
  
"What, Heero?"  
  
"Duo, I almost raped you."  
  
Duo pulled back, eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"I hurt you. You had to yell at me to stop. You punched me in the nose! I was going to--"  
  
Duo shook his head. "You're remembering it wrong. We need to talk about that, but I want you to finish the letter first."  
  
_'Fuck, I can hardly see to write now but I just can't stop. Damn you, Dr. B, if you read this. Is this supposed to make me feel better? I feel like shit! Fucking shit! Now I have to go have Trowa beat the sadness and fear out of me again and frankly, it's more than a little embarrassing to ask for it, even if he is such a good sport about it. He and Kat both.'_  
  
What the hell did that mean? Trowa beat Duo? But there was more.  
  
_'They are such good friends. They'd have taken care of you, too, Heero, if it wasn't me you wanted. That would have been OK. OK, maybe that's not really true. But fucking better than this hell, anyway.  
  
'God I wish you'd fucked me that night.'_  
  
Heero's heart slammed against his ribs. He read the words again.  
  
_'I didn't think you'd ever get around to trying again, but I saved myself for you anyway. I still can't give it up to anyone. How stupid is that? Still waiting for Mr. Right, even though there's only one Mr. Right and now you're gone and you never wanted it anyway. I am such a fool.'_  
  
Heero read that whole section again, head spinning. Duo said he remembered that night wrong; Heero thought he had that backwards, but here he was, writing that he'd wanted Heero to have sex him? That he still wanted him? This made no sense.  
  
_'And I'm still angry at you and that hurts because all I want is to feel the love I have for you. I can't even take comfort in that because it wasn't enough and I'm angry and thinking about you just brings back all the pain and every dream I have about you is about almost getting to you and not making it or thinking I see you on some city street and following and chasing and going through all sorts of difficulties and shit and then when I finally get to you and you turn around it's not even you. It's some stranger. Those are the worst. Even when I'm awake sometimes it happens. It happened today on the way here to Dr. B's. I actually followed the guy for six or seven blocks before he turned a corner and I saw that he wasn't you. I mean, I knew that it probably wasn't but I couldn't not follow him. But it wasn't and when I saw it wasn't I sat down on some total stranger's stoop and cried, right there in the street. Probably be in the news. Everything else is.'_  
  
Heero didn't stop reading as he reached for Duo's hand.   
_  
'I can't even get a job except for what Trowa gets me because of the fucking reporters. Not much for "former Gundam boys" with serious mental problems to do. I'm going to be one of those crazy vets with a three-legged dog, collecting shopping carts full of beer cans and old shoes.  
  
'Maybe you had the right idea, Heero. If I thought you'd be waiting for me on the other side, maybe I'd take that leap one more time, for real, no mistakes this time. But last time I didn't see any tunnel or bright light. I didn't see Solo or Sister Helen waiting for me. Maybe I didn't get far enough that time. I don't know but I'm not quite ready to find out. Not today. That's my anti-suicide motto, by the way. Not today. That's it. Pretty simple, huh? I wish you'd given me your address so I could have sent it to you. I wish you'd trusted me enough to give me your fucking address, you shit!'_  
  
That hurt because it was true. He thought he'd been protecting Duo and the others. He had! He knew that. But the way he'd chosen to do it had just made everything so much worse for them.  
  
_'Sometimes when I'm really down I think maybe you hated me and wanted to stay away because of that.'_  
  
"I never hated you, Duo!"  
  
"Yeah, I know that."  
  
_'But why did you keep writing? You're not the kind to do it out of cruelty. I mean, those emails didn't say much, but you did always say you hoped I was well. I'd rather you'd have come see for yourself that I'm not. But you didn't do it to be mean. I'm sane enough to know that. I still remember you well enough to know that you didn't operate that way. Killing yourself? There's plenty of precedent for that, but you were never mean. People thought you were cold, emotionless, but I knew it was just you being you. Being Yuy. See, I can still crack a joke. I'm not done with life as long as I can still do that, maybe?  
  
'Well, my hour is almost up with the doc and I've used up all the tissues, yet again. He sees me cry a lot, the doc does. Guess it helps a little. I wish you could have talked to him. He even said he wished he could have helped you. He wouldn't say that lightly, Heero. He's as honest as I am and never bullshits. Why didn't you let someone help you? He says maybe you did. He says for all we know, maybe you had a boyfriend or a wife or some whole other life, but I don't think so. I think you were alone.'_  
  
"I was," Heero said softly, as if it was Duo speaking to him directly.   
_  
'If you were so happy with someone else you either would have told me because let's face it, you wouldn't have known how to be tactful, or you would have just stopped writing to me. You were alone, more alone than me. At least I've got the guys. You could have been with us. Why weren't you with us?_  
_  
'Guess I'm still pissed at you, Heero, but I love you and I'll always love you and I fucking wish you were here with me right now, even if it was just for you to give me one of those pissed-off looks of yours. I wish I could tease you about that to your face. I wish you were here. I wish I had somewhere to send this. The empty feeling inside me just seems to get bigger and bigger the more I write so I don't know what good this is doing, except that it makes me feel like you're really there to hear me and it makes it hard to stop. Guess Trowa's arm will be sore before he's done with me tonight. I wonder, if you were here, if you'd want to do things like that. Then again, would I need it? I don't know.  
  
'I love you Heero. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll always, always love you. Love forever, Duo'_  
  
Heero stared down at the final lines, hardly able to breath. Still leaning on Heero's shoulder, Duo whispered hoarsely, "It's true. Always, always love you, forever. That's all I was trying to say."  
  
Letting the sheets fall, Heero turned and wrapped his arms around Duo, too confused and overwhelmed to do anything but keep crying. It sapped what little strength he had. Duo had on a new coat, long gray wool, and he was going to make a mess of the front of it, with all the tears and his nose running. After a moment he tried to sit up, but Duo wasn't letting him go. Instead, he ended up with his head in Duo's lap, arms around his waist, one hand wrapped in the long braid.  
  
After an embarassingly long time, it seemed, Heero finally got some sort of control back and pushed himself up. He felt like he'd just done hours of training in a high gravity chamber.  
  
"Really takes it out of you, doesn't it?" Duo said. Shrugging out of the coat, he helped Heero up onto the bed, stretched out beside him, and pulled him close again, with Heero's head on his chest.   
  
Heero wrapped an arm around Duo's waist and found the braid again, clutching it like a safety rope. Duo was thin under that shirt, but warm and he smelled good, like his shampoo and soap. The heavy velvet was nice under Heero's hand and cheek. Duo was rubbing a hand up and down Heero's arm and that felt good, too.   
  
"So, questions?"  
  
"I wrote to you?"  
  
"Yup." Duo arched up to reach in a back pocket. He pulled out a holocard in a plastic sleeve and held up it for Heero to read. "I believe this was your suicide note."  
  
Heero read it and cringed. "I don't remember, Duo. I can't even explain it. But it's true. Every word."   
  
Duo sighed. "Thanks, Heero. I really-- I'm glad. Hell, I'm just glad you're here, even if you didn't mean it."  
  
"Did _you_ really mean it, in your letter, that you wished I'd just 'done' you?"  
  
Duo was quiet for a moment. "I don't know how to answer that right now. I did when I wrote it. But you didn't try to rape me, OK? Just let that go. We'll talk about it later when we're in better shape. Anything else?"  
  
"Did you really ask Trowa to beat you?"  
  
"Uh--yeah. About that." Now Duo sounded embarrassed. "Well, ya see, Shinigami's got some kinks."'  
  
"Kinks?"  
  
"Things I like. Kinda sex things, some of them, that aren't quite, shall we say, text book normal?"  
  
Heero felt that sinking, sick feeling again. "So it's true."  
  
"What's true?"  
  
"That you have sex with Trowa? Quatre, too? The news said--"  
  
"What?" Duo laughed, but still sounded nervous. "No, I don't have sex with them."  
  
Heero sat up and looked at Duo. "But you sleep with them. You said so the other day."  
  
"Well, yeah. Sleep. And . . . Well, yeah, I do lots of stuff with them. I guess you could say we're intimate. But damn it, Heero, I needed someone to be close with, someone who understands me and knows what I've been through. I guess--" He paused, blushing again. "I really wanted that to be you all along, but you weren't there, right? And they were. But not sex. Never. But-- Well, they help me out."  
  
"Define help?"  
  
Duo's face went red. Pushing himself up against the headboard, he pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. "It's a long story. I've been really weird these past few years. Losing you, crazy from the war, just generally messed up. I've been talking to Dr. B about it, but I don't think we've figured it out so good yet. Sometimes the only thing that makes me feel safe and not so depressed is--well--" His face was scarlet now. "Well, getting the crap beaten out of me by a guy. It's sort of like sex, but without the sex, if you see what I mean?"  
  
Baffled, Heero shook his head.   
  
"Yeah, well." Duo nibbled nervously at the end of his braid. "It sounds really dumb when you try to explain it out loud. Sometimes the pain and being restrained and stuff make me feel better. Only at first I was going to strangers and letting things go too far. Seriously, Heero, I'm totally fucked up and get pretty strange sometimes. You might as well know that right up front. Anyway, I got hurt bad a couple of times and Trowa got mad at me and made me promise that if I had to have that sometimes, then I had to let him do it. He's really careful and doesn't do any real damage. Just--enough to make me feel better."  
  
"The letter said you wondered if I'd want to do that. I can't imagine hurting you, Duo. In fact, I think I may have to speak with Trowa about this."  
  
"Well, just remember that I asked for it, right? He did it out of love, so I'd have a safe outlet. But it's not sex. Really."  
  
"Does that have anything to do with that night in the silo? I hurt you then, and it was sort of sex. You mentioned it a lot in your letter."  
  
"You're not gonna let that go, are you?" Duo sighed, tapping his chin with the end of his braid. "OK, about that night . . ."


	13. Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_October, AC 195  
Earth-side, Northern Hemisphere_  
  
The intelligence on the Finland raid was fucked from the word go. It was supposed to be a simple Shinigami hit and run: touch down at dawn, smash the bejeezus out of a Taurus production plant and get the hell out. Instead, Duo found himself in the middle of a major shit storm, facing off against an entire squadron of Leos that shouldn't have been there. Their weapons might not be able to pierce Deathscythe's gundanium hide, but they were knocking holy hell out of his insides, and Duo's, too. Maybe that blond kid, Quatre was right, he thought, firing off his last Vulcan rounds and deploying the energy scythe. Maybe they would be better off fighting together, rather than these lone wolf runs?  
  
"Naw! Just more fun for me!" he cackled, wading into another wave of defenders, as he tried to break through to the plant beyond.   
  
The second worst thing that happened was a lucky hit by a Leo that overloaded his forward shield, blew out the circuits on the upper con panel and dropped the whole shebang on his head.   
  
The first worst thing, noted just before he blacked out, was the sight of Wing descending out of nowhere to save his bacon. It was bad enough getting his butt kicked by a bunch of tin cans on legs, without Heero "Perfect Soldier" Yuy there to see it . . .  
  
+  
  
Heero Yuy wouldn't have been happy to see any of the other gundam pilots already attacking his target, but why did it have to be Maxwell? The open ground around the facility was already littered with smoking wreckage in Deathscythe's wake.   
  
Quatre hadn't proven to be much competition so far, and the one who called himself Trowa could be depended on to get the job done and disappear. Oh well, at least it wasn't that arrogant Chinese pilot. But Maxwell? He sighed. This wasn't the first time they'd shown up at the same battle, and that fast-talking, braided menace always insisted on treating it like a good thing. If this was anything like last time, he'd want to chatter and joke through the whole battle, instead of paying attention to the mission, then try to buddy up to him afterwards.   
  
It was unsettling.  
  
As he powered up the beam cannon, however, he saw that something was wrong with Maxwell's gundam. Heero had seen him fighting as he approached, but now Deathscythe stood frozen, energy blade flickering like a strobe light. Smoke was spiraling up from the top of the gundam's "head."   
  
He opened a narrow com band. "02, status?" There was no reply. Not good, but Maxwell was going to have to wait.  
  
He opened fire with the cannon, obliterating the central facility with two powerful blasts, then switched to the shoulder-mounted machine cannons as the Leos closed in, mowing down those Maxwell had failed to take out. To his credit, he'd gotten a lot of them.  
  
Heero exhausted his ammo, then used his beam saber to dispatch the stragglers. Several tried to escape but he launched himself after then and sliced them in two before they got a half a kilometer.  
  
Turning back toward the smoking blast site, he saw Deathscythe still standing stupidly in the middle of the wreckage field. He opened his com link again. "02, get the hell out of there!"  
  
No reply, just static.   
  
"02? Snap out of it! They've probably sent for reinforcements by now. There's a support base less than thirty kilometers to the south. 02!"   
  
'If that idiot let himself get killed before initiating the self destruct sequence on his own suit--' Heero thought angrily. He didn't have enough power left to destroy the suit here.  
  
The com crackled and Heero heard a faint "Oi?"  
  
"02, status!" Heero snapped.  
  
There was a long pause and more static, then a muttered, "Fucked," and more static.   
  
Heero growled in frustration. He had a wounded pilot and a potentially functional gundam on his hands. With no attack imminent, his duty was clear: save both valuable resources, if possible. If Maxwell died or was too badly wounded to save, he'd destroy both to keep them out of enemy hands once he'd powered up again.   
  
He called up an area map on the shipboard computer, looking for the abandoned SAC base he'd noted during the mission briefing. It lay near the shore of a small lake, twenty kilometers to the north and deep in a heavily forested quadrant. If the missile silos were still accessible, they should be large enough to hide both gundams. If not, they'd use the trees as cover. Even if they only made it as far as the forest, it was safer than staying here.  
  
Stowing his weapons, he grappled onto Deathscythe and took off. There was no further communication from Maxwell. That concerned Heero, but there was nothing to do but keep going.  
  
+  
  
The base was in worse condition that Heero had hoped. Most of the buildings had fallen into ruin and all of the reinforced concrete silos had been sealed. Cursing under his breath, he set the gundams down in the trees nearby, hunkered Wing and deployed the camo netting. Deathscythe lay on its back on a bed of crushed trees like broken toy.  
  
Heero grabbed a survival pack and ran to Deathscythe. The entry port was open. Maxwell was still strapped in to the pilot seat, but unconscious. Heero scowled at the amount of blood covering the othe pilot's face and the front of his black priest's shirt. Lowering himself down, he checked him for damage and was relieved to find nothing obvious beyond a long gash and bruising on his forehead, near the hairline. The thick, unruly bangs were sticky with blood. He looked around and saw that an overhead instrumentation panel had come loose. The baka must have looked up just as it came down on him. It was big; he was lucky it hadn't broken his neck.   
  
Maxwell's face was very pale under the blood, and his skin felt overly cool and moist, but his breathing was normal. Heero peeled back one of the young pilot's eyelids, then the other, noting the unevenly dilated pupils: concussion, with possible shock complications. Field training indicated anti-inflammatory meds, rest, fluids and warmth. He growled. It would probably be better to spend the night here, and move him in the morning, when he was stabilized. Or not.  
  
Heero unbuckled the unconscious boy, hoisted him over his shoulder and dragged him up through the open hatch. Maxwell hung limply, braid slapping the backs of Heero's legs and threatening to tangle his feet as he climbed up. Heero growled again. "Baka!"   
  
+  
  
Duo came to with the unhappy knowledge that he was cold, upside down, and dangerously close to puking. Opening his eyes, he got a blurred glimpse of two long braids that both looked a lot like his trailing in the dirt below him, just behind four Spandex-clad legs. Duo blinked, choking back bile as his chin banged against a hard, green-shirted back. OK, Heero had him in a fireman's carry, and was running through a--forest? Where did that come from? Oh yeah, and he was hurt. His head felt like it was going to explode and there was blood on his dangling arms; they were leaving a blood trail. He knew he should either stab Heero for carrying him like a sack of dirty laundry, or warn him. Before he could do either he puked and passed out again.  
  
+  
  
Heero gritted his teeth as he felt Maxwell heaving, but kept running for the ruined buildings. Reaching the first silo, he kicked in a rusted metal door and sidled cautiously inside, pistol drawn. He was prepared to dump his unconscious burden at the first sign of trouble, but nothing moved. With the missile port sealed and the doors locked for who knew how many years, there probably weren't even pigeons in here. The silo was a huge echoing chamber, dark and chilly as a meat locker. Depositing Maxwell and the pack near the doorway, Heero checked his vitals again. No change, except for the sour vomit all over his shirt and in his braid. It had gotten on the back of Heero's clothes, too. Cursing under his breath, he changed into the spare shorts and shirt he carried, then stripped Maxwell's shirt and the worn white tee underneath. Shock was definitely setting in. Maxwell was shivering in his sleep and his teeth were chattering. Heero pulled a thin primofleece blanket from the pack and wrapped him in it. At least there'd been no sign of blood in the vomit.  
  
Maxwell stank, and it wasn't just from throwing up. In the short time Heero had known him, he'd discovered that L-2 kid's hygiene standards were lower than most. As far as Heero knew, Maxwell only owned one set of clothing and the terrorist lifestyle didn't allow for too many laundry days. Wrinkling his nose, he tugged off the black boots and unfastened the fly of the jodhpurs. Underneath Maxwell had on something similar to Heero's shorts, but shorter in the legs. It was an indistinct beige color. Between that and the form-fitting tightness, he looked almost naked. Heero shook his head. He was no fashion plate himself, but Maxwell's clothes were just strange. His opinion changed a bit, however, when he discovered the collection of lock picks, wires, tools, and small weapons Maxwell had hidden in the loose pockets.   
  
"Hn!" Heero's opinion of the boy went even higher as he found a wad of explosive C-94 putty in the left side and a metal case of detonators in the right. He already knew about the knife in Maxwell's right boot, the small pistol in his left, and the throwing blade in a spring sheath strapped to his right forearm. It wasn't a bad array, actually. He set the weapons out with the rest of the materials. Maybe there was more to Maxwell than it seemed. But he still smelled bad.  
  
Heero resignedly acknowledged that he was going to have to do something about that, at least the blood and vomit. There was enough in Maxwell's hair that if he left it to dry, he'd probably end up having to cut it off. It would be doing the baka a favor, he thought, gingerly picking up the soiled braid by its tufted end. Nearly a meter long, it was the most impractical, tactically hazardous thing he'd ever seen on a soldier.   
  
"Touch the hair and yer dead man," Maxwell mumbled, not fully conscious.  
  
Heero shrugged. He's suspected as much.   
  
Leaving Duo's weapons in easy reach, Heero jogged back to Deathscythe and searched for rations, water, and another med kit. He also found a battery lantern, a blanket and sleeping bag, and a collapsible plastic water jug. Adding these to his take, he went back to Wing, double-checked the proximity alarms and his remote, and then scanned the outlying area for intruders. Nothing yet. For now, at least, they were relatively safe from attack. It was cold, though, and increasingly overcast. This far north snow was a possibility, come nightfall and neither of them had come prepared to camp out. At least they had shelter. A fire wouldn't be a problem, either.   
  
He returned to the silo and found Maxwell curled on his side now. His legs had tangled in the blanket, pulling it down and leaving his upper body uncovered. He didn't look much like a terrorist now, just a sick, skinny kid. His ribs showed through his pale skin, and the knobs of his spine. Heero was thin, too, but more densely muscled and compact. He pulled up the blanket again and opened the med kits.   
  
He cleaned the wound with antiseptic wipes and water from his canteen, then closed it with medical adhesive and some small butterfly bandages. There wouldn't be much of a scar but Maxwell was going to have one hell of a headache. The area was already bruising. Rummaging in the kit again, he found the acetaminophen and shook out three. He'd have given himself twice that, but Maxwell was a lightweight, without Heero's unusual metabolism. Maxwell came around groggily as Heero placed the pills in his mouth, saving him the trouble of poking them down his throat with his finger. He managed a few gulps from Heero's canteen, then closed his eyes again and lay back with a groan.   
  
"You crashed my party," he mumbled, slurring the words.  
  
"I saved your ass."  
  
"Mmmm. Both of you." He was still drifting in and out but suddenly he grinned that crazed grin of his and chuckled hoarsely, mumbling something that sounded like, "Nice ass."  
  
Heero blinked. His left hand had recently been in very close contact with the ass in question. He supposed it could be described as "nice." Maxwell was fit, and more muscular than he looked. His buttocks had been noticeably firm and lean . . .  
  
Heero blinked again, startled by this train of thought. Distracting. Yes that summed Maxwell up all too well. His current priority was to get him cleaned up and warm. It would be most efficient to carry him down to the lake and deal with it there. The water would no doubt be cold, but it was be faster than carrying water back and forth.  
  
Duo opened one eye and scowled at him as Heero lifted him in his arms. "Crashing my party, Yuy?"  
  
"Hn." Maxwell talked too much as it was; now he was repeating himself.  
  
"Mouth tastes nasty."   
  
And stating the obvious. Heero bent and snagged the dirty clothes. It was going to be a long day.  
  
The lake was shallow, with a gravel beach. Heero threw the clothes in the water to soak. Tugging off the blanket, Heero waded in to knee depth and lowered Maxwell into the water.   
  
That brought him around. Violet eyes flew open and he began to struggle, managing to elbow Heero in the face.   
  
"Stop it!" Heero ordered, plunking him down on his backside in the water and holding him in place. "This will only take longer if you fight me."  
  
"Wha' the fuck?" Maxwell blinked up at him, not comprehending the situation but seeming to recognize him.   
  
"Washing." Heero proceeded to do just that, using a handful of the clean, fine gravel as a washcloth to get the blood off Maxwell's chest and back. He used his hand on the rest of him, careful not to cause him undue pain as he cleaned his face and swished the braid in the water.   
  
The hair presented a problem. Worried about soaked-in blood, he pulled off the elastic tie and unbound the hair to clean it thoroughly. Maxwell was more alert and shivering, but it had to be done.  
  
Maxwell had a lot of hair! He'd guessed as much, given the length and thickness of the braid, but as it came loose under his fingers and unfurled in the water, it seemed to quadruple in volume. He helped Maxwell lie back, supporting his head with one hand so he could wash the crusted blood from his bangs and forehead. The longer hair fanned out just under the water's surface like some exotic aquatic plant, brushing around Heero's shins. It reminded Heero of something he'd seen in a book once, when he was with Lowe. It had been a children's book, with colored pictures; a reward for doing well in his training. The long, honey brown mass swirled around Maxwell's bare shoulders.   
  
Mermaids. It had been a picture of mermaids swimming in a tropical lagoon. Peter Pan, that was the title. He'd lost the book years ago, hadn't thought about it since. The mermaid's hair looked like that, spreading out around them in the water. Just like this. His logical mind searched for the proper adjective and came up with "pretty." Maxwell's hair was pretty. But highly impractical, all the same. And distracting.  
  
"Don't forget the conditioner," Maxwell grumbled through chattering teeth. He was shaking badly now.  
  
"That's the best I can do." Heero hoisted him out, soaking himself in the process. He scowled at his own foolish move. He really hadn't thought this out. Then again, he'd never given anyone else a bath before, either. He didn't even have a towel. Maxwell's hair hung in a wet, heavy curtain against his arm and side, streaming water down his leg. His shoes were soaked anyway.  
  
"Can you stand?"  
  
"Yeah." Maxwell wobbled unsteadily but managed to stay upright, arms locked over his chest. His lips had a blue tinge and fine blue veins showed through his skin. His wet under shorts were nearly translucent.  
  
Heero averted his gaze, though he wasn't quite sure why he should feel embarrassed. He seldom felt embarrassed about anything, so why should an indistinct pink bulge and the hint of dark hair at Maxwell's crotch bother him?   
  
Increasingly irritated with himself, he grabbed the blanket and wrapped Maxwell in it head to toe, then carried him back toward the silo.  
  
Maxwell closed his eyes and rested his head against Heero's shoulder, face framed by the blue fabric of the blanket. "Don't feel so good."  
  
"Nausea? I want a warning this time."  
  
"Not yet. Head hurts and I'm _cold!"_ He was whining! He shifted, as if trying to get more of his body against Heero's chest. "Stupid time for a swim."  
  
"You'll thank me later. You had blood and vomit all through your hair. You smell better, too."  
  
"Gotta comb it. The hair. Gotta get the tangles out before it dries."  
  
"It's more important to get warm. We're both in danger of hypothermia and it may snow."   
  
"Warm's good. But I seriously need a comb."  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Good. I'm sure you'll do a good job, since this is your fault."  
  
Heero glanced down in dismay. Was Maxwell sulking? He was tempted to drop him on that nice ass of his and let him walk the rest of the way.   
  
Just then Maxwell looked up at him and managed a lopsided grin. "Kidding, 'Ro. Don't listen to the stupid baka with the concussion. I'm still seeing double."  
  
The smile made the corner of Maxwell's eyes slant up a little. The pupils were still different sizes, but less so. It made the left one look more blue, the other more violet. He supposed that "pretty" was a suitable description of Maxwell's eyes, too.   
  
Maxwell blinked. "What?"  
  
Heero looked up, not wanting to stumble on the uneven ground. "I'm going to leave you in the silo and gather firewood. Don't touch the other bedding until I get you dry. I won't be long."  
  
Maxwell chuckled. "Yeah, me neither, after that ice water bath."  
  
Clearly his mind was still wandering. That made absolutely no sense at all.  
  
+  
  
Heero found an ample supply of fallen branches without going very far. He built a fire for Maxwell with the first armload, then went out for more. When he had enough to get them through the night, he went back to the lake for their clothing. While wringing them out, he found a large comb in a pocket of Maxwell's shirt. It was plastic, with long, widely spaced teeth. And it was pink. Shaking his head, he slipped it into the waistband of his damp shorts next to his pistol and carried the clothing back to dry in the silo. This was not how he'd pictured spending his afternoon when he'd woken up this morning.  
  
He found Maxwell huddled by the fire with the wet blanket draped over his shoulders, holding a gun on him with both hands. He lowered it as soon as he saw it was him.   
  
Heero tossed him the comb and spread the clothes on the dusty cement floor. "Pink, Maxwell?"  
  
The other boy shrugged and went to work on his hair. "Beggars can't be choosers." His hands were shaking too badly, however. He dropped it several times and gave up, looking defeated.   
  
Heero stripped off his own wet things and used the few dry places left on the blanket to get them both more or less dry. Using the other blanket as a folded pad, he placed it beside Maxwell, close to the fire, then unzipped the sleeping bag and shook it out to its full size. Sitting down facing the fire, he pulled Maxwell over to sit between his legs with his back against Heero's chest, then draped the sleeping bag around both of them, leaving the front open to the fire's warmth. The skinny boy's skin was icy against his, and the wet hair was a problem. Heero pulled it forward over Maxwell's chest, hoping it would dry quickly.  
  
"I need to assess your condition."  
  
"I'm fucking cold, thanks to you, and my head hurts!"  
  
"I already know that, Maxwell. I need to assess your medical--"  
  
"Duo."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Call me Duo. I mean, if I gotta spend the night naked around a fire with you, you could at least call me by my first name, right? And quit talking like a fucking computer. It pisses me off!"  
  
"Irritability due to lingering disorientation from mild concussion," Heero noted calmly.  
  
Maxwell hunched forward, hugging his knees. "You're still doing it!"  
  
"I talk the way I talk, Duo."  
  
Maxwell, or rather, Duo, looked back over his shoulder. "Well now, that wasn't so painful, was it? And I'm always irritable when someone hits me over the head and tosses me in a lake."  
  
"I didn't hit you. The bath was necessary."  
  
Duo rested his face in his hands. "Like arguing with a wall. Where's my comb?"  
  
Heero reached over and retrieved it, then pulled the wet mass of hair back again, shivering a little as it fell into his bare lap.   
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Duo demanded.  
  
"Combing your hair. Your hands are too unsteady, a side effect of the hypothermia. It will pass, but probably not before your hair dries."  
  
He couldn't see Duo's face now to gauge his reaction to this, but he didn't object as Heero separated the mess into sections and started working from the ends up. It wasn't as tangled as Duo had feared and soon half of it lay damp and smooth over his left shoulder. Heero lifted it forward onto Duo's chest to dry.  
  
As he started on the right side, Duo sighed. "Done this before?"  
  
"Only my own," Heero replied, carefully working out a tangle. "This seemed a logical method and it's working."  
  
"Logical." Duo was dozing off. "Gentle, too."  
  
Heero had never been called that before, but assumed Duo was talking about his hair combing technnique.  
  
He finished with the right side, pushed it forward, and pulled Duo back against his chest. Duo fell asleep at once, head damp and heavy against Heero's left cheek. He'd warmed up and wasn't shivering much. Heero ran his hands over Duo's chest and arms. Yes, circulation was coming back. His back felt warmer, too. Heero let him sleep for a while. He was strong enough to support Duo's slight weight indefinitely, but after half an hour or so the fire needed tending.   
  
Duo woke with a start as Heero got up and put the sleeping bag around him. "Whasat?"  
  
Heero tossed more wood onto the fire, building up a sizeable blaze, and went to the silo door. "It's almost dark, and starting to snow."  
  
"Aren't you cold?" Duo asked, peering at him from the depths of the bag. "I mean, being---uh-- naked and all?" He sounded a bit odd as he said that. Heero wondered if he was feeling the same illogical embarrassment he had experienced earlier. He'd never been inordinately modest himself, but perhaps Duo had been raised differently. Whatever the case, it couldn't be helped. Wearing wet clothing could be life threatening in this climate. Still, the thought of the normally cocky pilot feeling off balance for once pleased him a little.  
  
"I'm aware of the ambient temperature, but now that my core body temperature is restored to--"  
  
"Sorry I asked! Just get back here, will ya? I'm getting cold just looking at you."  
  
"Not possible," Heero replied, then smiled to show he was joking.   
  
Duo eyed him warily as he settled behind him again. "Y'know, you look even scarier when you do that."  
  
Heero chuckled in a manner he hoped was only a little scary and pulled Duo back against him again, running a hand over his hair to test its dryness.  
  
"Uh, Heero?"  
  
"Yes, Duo?"  
  
"What the fuck to you think you're doing?"  
  
"Sharing body heat, as you advised, and feeling whether your hair is dry yet. What did you think I was doing?"  
  
"Uh, nothing. You just-- y'know, startled me a little. I never figured you for such a touchy feely kinda guy."  
  
"Basic survival, Duo. Are you uncomfortable?"  
  
+  
  
'Depends on what ya mean by uncomfortable,' Duo thought, trying to decide if he was relieved or disappointed that Heero had stopped stroking-- Whoa, no, strike that! Had stopped testing the dryness of his hair.  
  
Uncomfortable? Not really, he had to admit now that the shock had worn off, and he guessed that proved it. Shinigami had a little Heero Yuy problem. Not that Heero Yuy was small; not even stark naked standing in a Finnish winter draft. Nope, not small at all. In fact, that not-smallness was pressed right against his backside at the moment and he was damn glad Yuy had left his underwear on. Sure his head still hurt like a sonofabitch, and his stomach wasn't all that happy and his mouth still tasted like--well, puke, but he was still basically young and mostly healthy and hormonal and mostly naked in the arms of the guy he'd been having wet dreams about since the day they'd met. And how crazy was that?  
  
It wasn't like he hadn't figured out he liked guys. That wasn't the showstopper here. You grew up fast on the mean streets of L-2, and around rough characters like the Sweepers. He'd messed around a little, nothing heavy, but enough to think that girls weren't what he wanted. Guys liking guys was no big deal. He was pretty certain there was something going on with Quatre and that Trowa guy, for that matter, although that was an even weirder match than this. Hey, that Trowa was good looking and kinda intersting in a sullen, aloof way. Quatre was cute, but too girly for Duo's taste. But if they were happy, who was he to interfere?   
  
No, the sixty four dollar question was, why was he falling for Heero Yuy, the guy who had hardly spoken six words to him in the past year? Who'd have guessed that Shinigami would get the hots for the not-so-tall, dark, not-so-verbal homicidal maniac type? Currently braiding his hair, for fuck's sake! Then again, too much had happened so far today that was off the map for this latest development to even raise an eyebrow.   
  
'Let's see,' he asked himself. 'First he shows up to save my ass, 'cause let's face it, pride aside, if he hadn't ol' Shimigami would be either dead or getting a helluva lot less TLC from some OZ soldiers right about now. Then the medical care and a bath and getting called a 'mermaid'-fuck I know I didn't imagine him saying that! And then all this logical sharing of body heat--FYI, Yuy, you're 'snuggling' --and by the way, you can comb my hair 'logically' anytime you want, buddy, if you promise not to notice my hard-on. So what's a little hair braiding between comrades, after all that?'   
  
And, he added mentally, he felt safe with Heero. He always had, even when he knew Heero wasn't going out of his way to protect him. Not that Duo needed protection most of the time, or asked for it ever, but there was just something about Heero that made the world seem like a calmer place when he was around, even in the middle of battle. That's why Duo coaxed him to talk, just to make sure Yuy knew he was there. Same went for those gorgeous eyes. Those dark blue eyes could be cold as ice, full of anger, but Duo still liked it when they were looking at him.   
  
So yeah-- here, now with Heero Yuy? He felt safe.   
  
And safe was good for a guy like Duo Maxwell. Safe was being able to trust someone to get close without worrying about attack. Safe was being able to sleep knowing the other would keep watch. Safe was letting someone touch him without having it turn into something ugly and violent and unwanted and a betrayal.  
  
"Duo?"  
  
"Huh?" He started, realizing that the feel of those freakishly strong hands on his hair had sent him off to la la land for the second time in twenty minutes.  
  
"Are you uncomfortable?"  
  
"A little. My butt's going to sleep sitting here." And that was awfully close to a lie. "I should probably lie down."  
  
And that's when the proximity alarm on Heero's remote went off and the Perfect Soldier was back, making the world real again. Damn it. Heero grabbed the remote and checked the small screen, his whole body suddenly alert and focused as a hi-intensity laser beam.   
  
Duo shivered, watching him, and not just because Heero had thrown off the sleeping bag.  
  
"North sector, near Wing." Heero grabbed his pistol and ran to the door, still naked but all business. He moved like a cat on the hunt, muscles like smooth iron under his skin. "I don't see anything moving. Arm yourself. I'll be right back." He pulled on a pair of wet shorts, and then he was gone. Duo couldn't even hear his footsteps.  
  
Gathering his wits, Duo grabbed his pistol and pulled the sleeping bag around his shoulders. Following Heero in his condition would cause more problems than it would solve at this point, but he'd be ready to hold the fort. He fed more wood onto the fire, then melted back into the shadows beside the door, ready to ambush anyone who came looking.  
  
Time dragged by and it got darker outside. Chancing a look, he saw a few stars twinkling through the thick branches overhead. Finally he caught the sound of feet approaching. Bare feet. He knew it was Heero, making himself known, before the soft, "02, it's me! All clear."  
  
"All clear here, 01." Duo sagged back against the cold cement wall and lowered his weapon. He noted with dismay that he was shaking again, and seeing double unless he blinked a lot. He closed his eyes and let himself slide down the wall, only to be caught in strong hands and lifted.   
  
"OK?" Heero asked, carrying him back to the fire.  
  
"Yeah, just woozy," Duo admitted, a little miffed at being carted around like a baby again. "What was it?"  
  
"A reindeer."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
Heero nodded. Jesus, he was strong! The arms that held Duo were steady around him as Deathscythe's con chair.   
  
"You're cold again."  
  
'And you're all Perfect Soldier again,' Duo thought with a pang of regret. Heero was acting all logic and order and assess the situation as he checked Duo's vitals and made him drink from the canteen and take some more painkillers. Sitting side by side, Heero wrapped in the blankets, Duo still under the sleeping bag, they split a box of rations and Duo's stomach settled down. Yup, things seemed to be getting back to normal, right up until the moment Heero moved behind him and started pulling out the half-finished braid.  
  
"I didn't finish this and now it's come loose," he said, as if it was the most normal, everyday sort of comment ever to pass between them. "Where's your comb?"  
  
Duo's hands weren't shaking so badly now that he couldn't have done it himself, but he handed it to him anyway and closed his eyes, resting his chin on his knees as Heero ran the comb and those hands over his hair, smoothing it over Duo's shoulders and down his back. That warmed him plenty and he let the sleeping bag slide down around his waist, wanting more.   
  
It was stupid, he knew. Heero had no clue the effect he was having, and Duo would have died of shame if anyone had popped in to explain it to him. He was quite certain that none of Heero's famous training exercises had included "Seduction 101." It didn't matter. Life was short, brutal and ugly and you had to grab the few good moments at they came and savor the hell out of 'em. Like that day on the Sweeper ship, right before Heero had ripped him off, the two of them lying on the deck in the sunshine, watching the gulls soaring overhead against that blue Earth sky. That was a good moment. So was this. Why question it or try to make it out to be more than it was? "Carpe diem, baby."  
  
"Latin. Seize the day," Heero said softly, lifting his hair to section it for the braid. His fingers brushed the nape of Duo's neck and he couldn't suppress a shiver. "But who are you referring to as 'baby'?"  
  
Fuck. He's said that out loud. And Heero had stopped what he was doing with one hand resting on Duo's left shoulder, the other in his hair. He was waiting for an answer.   
  
+  
  
Maybe it was the strange turn the day had taken and Duo's surprising ease with it all. Maybe it the discovery of how nice Duo's hair and skin were to touch. Especially that hair. Heero had only meant to be helpful, to prevent what would obviously be a time-consuming problem later, by combing Duo's hair and putting it back into a more controlled form, i.e.; the braid. He saw the logic of that style now.   
  
And maybe it was the mutual adrenaline rush when the alarm went off and the way Duo looked at him when he came back, but something had changed. When they sat apart to eat, even though they were less than a meter away from each other, Heero felt cold. When their fingers brushed, reaching into the ration box at the same time, it felt like an electric charge jumped from Duo's body to his.   
  
There was no question; this was sexual attraction. He'd felt it before, and read about the act in both scientific and fictional formats. He'd watched porn online. He'd masturbated and climaxed. But he'd never felt anything like this. Duo Maxwell, 02, pilot of one of the five most powerful weapons of destruction in the world, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life and he was done pretending he didn't notice. It felt good to admit it. The question was, what was he going to do?   
  
Ascertain the target's receptivity, his mission voice suggested.  
  
Good plan.   
  
There's been no question that Duo had enjoyed having his hair combed earlier. He'd left the job half finished before and now it was coming loose and tangling again. He moved back to his former place behind him and went to work again, sitting at a slight angle this time so he could see Duo's face in the firelight.   
  
Even with the bruise on his forehead, he looked good, especially now with his eyes half closed and his lips slightly parted. Heero heard him sigh as he drew the comb, and then his fingers through the silky strands. His hair was almost dry, and it did feel like silk, in a literal rather than poetically metaphorical sense. It was very thick and heavy, too, and that added to the tactile appeal. Heero had never seen anyone with hair like this. Even if Duo had been ugly, or female, he would find this hair attractive. He wondered what it would feel like against his face.   
  
Then he thought of the way it had felt with Duo's back against his chest, those firm small buttocks pressed against Heero's genitals, with only a thin pair of briefs between them. That had been good, too. Skin to skin contact could only feel better.  
  
Duo had gone very quiet, and his eyes were closed all the way, but he wasn't asleep. Heero could tell by the way his breath caught every so often, the way a casual touch of Heero's fingers made him smile or sigh. Looking down, he considered how small and hard Duo's nipples were. Arousal did that, but so did cold temperatures. Would the application of warmth alter their configuration, and if so, how?  
  
'I would like to have sex with Duo Maxwell,' he thought, amused by his own admission.   
  
Then Duo whispered, "Carpe diem, baby," in the throatiest, sexiest voice Heero had ever heard.   
  
Stunned to have his own thoughts guessed at so easily by a guy with his eyes closed, he fell back on logic, but only half seriously. "Latin. Seize the day." He brushed the smooth, warm skin at the nape of Duo's neck with his fingers and felt him shiver. He smiled, thinking Duo would find him very dangerous-looking if he opened his eyes just now. "But who are you referring to as 'baby'?"  
  
Duo turned around and knelt looking at him. His eyes were wide open now, and looked purple in this light. The pupils had equalized and were functioning normally, dilated as a reaction to arousal and low light. In short, Duo had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen and suddenly he was getting a very close look at them because Duo was leaning forward.  
  
And they were kissing.  
  
Heero had read that first kisses were often awkward or unpleasant, but maybe this wasn't Duo's first, because he was very good at it. His lips were full and warm and felt very good as they worked gently against Heero's. It seemed only natural to respond in kind. And to undo all his work on the braid, too, loosing that silken mermaid hair around Duo's shoulders and his own, so that it enveloped them like a cape. Then Duo was licking his lips and when Heero opened his to return the favor that tongue slid into his mouth. And that felt very good. So good that he pulled Duo into his lap and felt those long legs wrap around his waist, and Duo's arms encircle his shoulders. They were both still wearing their shorts, but he felt an erection as hard as his own pressed beside his and every time Duo moved they rubbed together. Heero groaned at the sensations overwhelming him and that only made Duo move more.   
  
'Dry humping,' Heero noted, recalling the term from his research. He and Duo Maxwell were dry humping and Duo's hair was slipping and tickling all around him and Duo's tongue was in his mouth and life was very good indeed!  
  
+  
  
Duo wasn't thinking much. Feeling had pretty much taken over his brain. He was making out with Heero Yuy. He was messing around with the Perfect Soldier and the Perfect Soldier was totally getting into it! Duo wanted to say something clever and amusing about how far he went on first dates, and how splitting a box of rations wasn't the same as buying him dinner, but he had one tongue too many in his mouth at the moment to say anything at all.  
  
Heero reached out one-handed and spread the sleeping bag on the floor, then laid back and pulled Duo and the blanket on top of him. They lay like that for a while, kissing and rubbing each other. Heero couldn't seem to keep his hands out of Duo's hair. That felt good. So did the way their legs tangled together and their hips rocked, finding a rhythm of sorts.   
  
'I want to dance with you, Heero.' Duo thought. That would be hot, rubbing up against each other on a dance floor in a crowd. Like sex in public with your clothes on. No wonder people did that. He got it now.  
  
"Beautiful!" Heero breathed, close to his ear.   
  
"You too," Duo told him. "Feels good, and we got the whole night!"  
  
Heero growled and rolled him over onto his back, then ran his tongue over Duo's left nipple. The sensation would have lifted him right off the ground if Heero hadn't been half on top of him. He arched up, seeking more, and found it. Heero licked both nipples, then nipped gently, and licked some more. It took Duo's breath away and every hot, sizzling sensation seemed to go straight to his cock. Yeah, he'd messed around before, but this? This was something else altogether! Heero shifted against him, seeking his lips and Duo felt that big hard, Spandex covered cock slide over his own again and that was it. Throwing his head back, he let out a yell and came with every fiber in his body.   
  
He'd had hand jobs before and jerked off, and even had a blow job once, but nothing had ever knocked him clean out of his body like this half-clothed body rub with Heero. It left him weak and a little disoriented. He might even have passed out for a second, because the next thing he knew, strong fingers were slipping into the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down, and a hot, hard, very naked cock was rubbing against his leg.   
  
He forced his eyes open and looked up at Heero. He was panting, still horny as hell, his face all flushed and beautiful. Those eyes looked black now, with a million mile stare going. And he was naked, and now Duo was, too. With something like a whimper, Heero stretched out on top of him and tried to get a leg between Duo's, which were suddenly very tightly pressed together.   
  
"Heero?"   
  
"Duo!" It came out in a soft growl, then Heero had both hands in his hair, kissing the breath out of him. "Need you."  
  
"Need--me?" Duo looked up again, suddenly not liking that faraway look in Heero's eyes. "Heero?"  
  
Heero reached back now and pulled at Duo's thigh, still trying to get his legs apart. "Need it, Duo. So good. Really, really need---"  
  
And suddenly it wasn't Heero on top of him, not the guy who'd just sent him express mail to heaven and back. Duo wasn't in a silo. The fire was gone and the gundams and Finland . . .   
  
He was in an L-2 alleyway, aged 9, face down over the hood of a vintage MG roadster with his pants around his ankles, about to be dry raped for the first of several times in his life, by a thin, good-looking blond man with white teeth and clean clothes and this great car, who'd just bought Duo the first ice cream he'd ever tasted . . .  
  
And then he was back, with someone's scream still ringing in his ears and Heero was picking himself off the ground several feet away with blood spurting from his nose and what looked like terror in his eyes. The way he moved, it looked like someone had kneed him in the balls pretty good, too. Before Duo could put all the pieces together, Heero had grabbed his clothes and was gone.   
  
By the time Duo figured it all out and found his clothes and staggered after him, tracking his footprints through the new snow to Wing, the access hatch was closed and Heero wasn't answering.  
  
"Heero! Open up! Oi, Heero, I'm sorry!" Duo's voice was ragged in his throat. "I know you can hear me. Heero, please!"  
  
+  
  
Heero heard him, even with his hands pressed over his ears. He heard the voice, but didn't listen. It didn't matter. He didn't blame Duo for panicking and fighting back, because if he hadn't, Heero wouldn't have stopped, even though he'd heard Duo say, very clearly, "Please don't."


	14. Flashback, con't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

"I wouldn't have stopped, Duo." Heero sat at the far end of the bed, looking as miserable as he had that long ago lost night.   
  
"You don't know that. I didn't give you a chance to find out." Still sitting against the headboard, Duo hugged his knees. This was the conversation he'd tried to have the morning after That Night. It hadn't gotten any easier.   
  
Heero shook his head. "I was in 'mission mode.' I wanted to have sex with you. I thought I knew how, but I had no idea, did I?"  
  
"Neither did I. Heero, we were just kids. I talked big, but I was still practically a virgin, mostly. I sure as hell didn't know much about-" He hesitated, still looking for the right words after all this time. Fucking wasn't right; it had been more than that for him. But 'making love' just sounded too girly. "About real sex," he said. "I'd just messed around some and made out. You?"  
  
"Just research."  
  
"Research, huh? Well, you did all right. Don't you remember how good you made me feel?"  
  
"I could only observe your reactions," Heero reminded him, in typical Heero speak, but Duo saw the ghost of a smile. "I thought it was good. I could tell you climaxed."  
  
"Came," Duo corrected with a wry smirk. "Just say I came, OK?"  
  
Heero groaned and tugged at his bangs. "You came and I took it as a signal to continue. But then you changed completely and I didn't know why. I went too far and you protected yourself."   
  
"I freaked out on you. Believe me, Heero, that wasn't your fault. You didn't know . . ."   
  
Heero gave him a sidelong look. "Know what?"  
  
Duo went all cold and sick inside, the way he always did when he tried to think about--that. He'd never spoken of it out loud. Not ever, to anyone. He'd gone out of his way to believe nothing like that had ever happened to him. Ever. If he believed hard enough, maybe it would be true.  
  
No, he didn't want to talk about this because then it started to be real again. But Heero's expression of self-loathing, that same look as three years ago, made him force the words. It felt like tearing open a wound. He took a deep breath and gritted out, "You didn't know that I'd been-" He had to swallow against a ripple of nausea. "Raped. A couple of times, actually, and one near miss. I didn't ever let myself think about it after, though. I _don't_ think about it. I just-I dunno, I guess when you climbed on top of me like that, wanting to, y'know. I had a flashback or something, when you tried to--When you asked to--" He rested his head in one hand. Suddenly his heart was pounding its way up his throat and his vision was going dark around the edges and the world was off kilter and he was sliding toward the edge.   
  
"You can't even say it."  
  
"Not because of you!" Duo exploded, slamming his fists into the mattress. "It wasn't you!" He lurched off the bed and kicked the trashcan across the room, scattering the contents. "Maybe I could have told you that night, if you hadn't run away! Fuck, Heero, why do you run away every time I really need you to stay?"   
  
Where had that come from? He hadn't known he was going to say that until the words were already out of his mouth. It was like standing back, watching someone else control his body. Duo saw Heero's eyes widen in pain, saw the way he flinched, but he couldn't stop. "Who the hell are you to decide what's right for me, huh? You fucking ran away! You left me!" A sob caught in his throat and his voice broke. "You abandoned me, Heero, when I needed you so bad!"  
  
His whole body felt like an open wound now. He turned away, clutching the sides of his head. "Go on, leave again! You know the truth now, all right, don't you? The great Shinigami's damaged goods. That's what I am. No good street rat trash killer whore . . . And the news sure gave you an eyeful, all these years. I know you saw! What a slut, huh? No wonder you took off and stayed away!"  
  
Hands closed on his shoulders, trying to turn him around. Duo dropped into a crouch, burying his face in his arms. "Go already! Just piss off now, with no surprises later."  
  
Heero knelt beside him, not touching, but close. "You're right. I left, but not because of anything like that. I'm stubborn and I was sick and I still don't know much about dealing with people. I'm not going to argue about these past couple of years right now, but I was wrong to run away that night, after everything that happened. And I should have talked to you the next morning, instead of shutting you out. But I was so ashamed and shocked at myself. I was stronger than you; I was trained to not need anything beyond what I was trained for. But the way you made me feel when you let me touch you--I can't explain to you what that was like! It was so good, so different than anything I'd ever known. It's like I short-circuited. But that's not an excuse. I stopped thinking about you, what was right for you. I was only thinking about myself, what I wanted."  
  
"Said you needed 'it'," Duo muttered. "Not me. It. To fuck me."  
  
"I lost control. I won't lie to you or try to justify it. And that was totally counter to my training, Duo. I'd never, ever been allowed to get away with such selfishness and when I forgot the rules, look what happened! I know what you said in the letter, wishing I'd just done it, but that's not how it was at the time. I could've really hurt you and then you'd have hated me forever." When Duo said nothing, he sighed and stood up. "Maybe you do anyway."  
  
Duo whacked him on the shin, still not looking at him. "Don't play the pity card on me, Yuy! I don't want to hear it. I've been handing you my heart since day one. I never did that with anyone, ever. Not even Solo. Not like this. I needed you! I still do!"  
  
"I need you. More than I can say. But you haven't forgiven me," Heero said softly.  
  
Duo shrugged. "For leaving two years ago and trying to off yourself? Maybe not. But for leaving me alone that night? You shouldn't have, but like I said, that was my fault. There's nothing to forgive. And for almost fucking me?"   
  
"Almost ra-" Heero started to correct him.  
  
"No! Don't you dare use that word! So help me, I'll punch you! You and that word do not belong in the same room, on the same planet, got it? I don't ever want to hear that word again, especially from you!"  
  
"But--"  
  
"Shut up!" Duo slapped his hands over his ears again and strode across the room, pacing, hardly knowing what he was doing. Strands of hair had pulled loose from his braid and he shook them back furiously. "Shut up shut up shut up! I know what that word means. You don't! You never fucking had someone twice your size bend you over and ram their--Oh, _fuck!"_ It was too much. Everything was spinning around him and he couldn't hear what Heero was saying and he was going over the edge of the world again, right back into that stinking alleyway where he belonged.   
  
He hadn't heard the door open, but suddenly Trowa was there, pulling him into a tight, restraining embrace against his chest. Duo struggled for a moment, then clung to him like a drowning man.   
  
Quatre was there, too, talking rapidly to Heero in a low voice. "It's OK, Heero. Just sit down. It's OK."  
  
"It's not OK! It's as fucking far from OK as it gets!" Duo raged, trying to break away again. Trowa held on, like he always did, keeping Duo from flying apart. When Quatre appeared with Duo's tranquillizers and a glass of water he loosened up just enough for him to take them, then pulled him in again and guided him over to sit on the bed. "When's the last time you took your meds?"  
  
Duo hung his head, avoiding that knowing gaze. "Dunno."  
  
"How many days?" Trowa asked again, in that dead level voice. Trowa never let him get away with anything.  
  
"Yesterday? No, since the night before that. I was so-- I felt so good, I just forgot."  
  
"That's what I thought. And this is what happens, isn't it? Especially when you get stressed."  
  
"It wasn't just that." Heero sounded completely calm now. "We were talking about something very difficult. And personal."  
  
"We heard," Wufei said from the open doorway. "Most of this floor heard, and probably upstairs, too. Heero, you should probably go."  
  
"No."  
  
That was Heero's Perfect Soldier voice. Duo looked up in surprise. He hadn't heard him sound like that since the war. Thin and exhausted as he still was, eyes all red from that amazing crying jag, he suddenly looked like the old Heero Yuy, or at least an older, taller version in borrowed clothes.  
  
"I'm sorry if we disturbed anyone, but Duo and I have to finish this conversation. We've left too many unfinished as it is. 02, I want you to come back to my room with me now, and stay the night there. I'll explain it to Dr. Santos. And you won't forget to take your medications again. You won't use me or the situation as an excuse." Issuing orders. Expecting them to be followed. Total mission mode.  
  
Duo nodded as some of the old inner calm stole over him. When times got tough, Heero Yuy got tougher. Unlike certain other people in the room, he thought, still feeling wretched.  
  
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Trowa said.   
  
"It's all right, Tro," Duo said. "Heero's right. We need to talk some more, and I think I can hold it together now. If not, we'll already be in the hospital, right? The pills are kicking in." He took his friend's hand. "Please, Tro. I need this. My second chance, remember?"   
  
"We'll walk you over," said Quatre, giving Duo an understanding look as he slid a hand under Trowa's arm and pulled him to his feet. "C'mon, babe, let's help them carry the bags. They're in our room, Duo."  
  
"Bags?" asked Heero.  
  
"We did some clothes shopping for you," Duo told him, feeling a little silly, given the circumstances. When he'd seen the lights on in his room and heard someone inside, he'd dropped everything in the hallway to draw his gun. He'd forgotten all about them.   
  
"For me?" Heero's stern "mission face" softened for just an instant. "Thank you. I hope you bought some for yourself. All yours are dirty. Bring your kit bag from the bathroom. It has everything you need for tonight."  
  
"How do you know?"   
  
Heero regarded him impassively. "I looked."  
  
Now Duo knew the tranqs were working. He wasn't even pissed.  
  
+  
  
Duo was wrong to blame himself for what had gone wrong that night in the silo. Knowing that his mistake had triggered such a traumatic memory for him only made Heero feel worse. But it was clear that trying to convince him of Heero's fault was not a productive course of action at the moment. When Duo was rested and calmer, he would invite him to join him at his therapy session tomorrow. His top priority now was to defuse the existing level of tension. The tranquillizers were helping, but he wanted to talk to Duo while he was still alert enough to carry on a conversation. As the five of them crossed the street back to the hospital Heero walked close beside Duo, but made no effort to touch him.   
  
Quatre kept his arm through Trowa's, even on the street, he noted. They were very affectionate with each other, often touching each other like that, even in public. It occurred to him that such sights didn't make him feel jealous right now. Duo might be very upset at the moment, and things were admittedly still very uncertain between them, but he couldn't help feeling optimistic. 'Always, always love you, forever,' Duo had told him, and Duo Maxwell didn't lie.  
  
+  
  
At first the nurses said Duo could not stay with him. It was against regulations. Heero's assurance that nothing of a sexual nature was planned did not sway them and embarrassed Duo. Nonetheless, he was glad he'd been clear on that point. Fortunately, Sister Agnes was on duty that evening and she agreed to call Dr. Santos, who in turn consulted Batoosingh. Permission was finally granted and they said good night to Trowa and the others.   
  
Trowa caught Heero's eye as he turned to leave, giving him what looked like a very dark warning look. Trowa was very protective of Duo; Heero had picked up on that from the start. Only now did it start to seem like a potential problem. It was almost as if Trowa felt he had some claim on Duo, one that Heero was somehow challenging.   
  
Heero answered the glare with a polite nod goodnight, thinking, 'I wouldn't beat him. I would find another solution.'  
  
Alone in Heero's room at last, Duo sagged visibly. Heero steered him to the bed, took the bath bag from his unresisting hand, and carried it into the bathroom. He took out Duo's medications, committed the dosages and schedules on the labels to memory, and poured out the required combination of pills. Judging by the number left and the dates of the most recent refill, Duo was often careless about taking them. There were too many of each left. He filled a plastic cup with water and brought the meds to Duo, watching to make sure he took them.   
  
"You will take them as prescribed from now on," he repeated.  
  
Duo made him a mocking salute. Heero noted the attitude for future reference as he carried the cup back to the bathroom and reached into the bag again. He needed to know what was "Duo in need of medication" and what was just Duo being Duo. He'd always been excitable and highly expressive. Heero wanted him stable and safe, not medicated into a submissive stupor.   
  
Duo was up unpacking things from the shopping bags when he came back. "We got yer tee shirts here, and jeans, one pair black, one blue. Those of Trowa's you had on fit you good so I found the same kind. Socks and underwear. You're still a boxer brief guy, right?"  
  
Heero nodded. It didn't matter to him, so long as they were clean. Duo looked sad and tired and nervous. He clearly needed to be busy, so Heero sat on the bed and let him show him what else he'd bought. There were several tee shirts in black or dark colors, a white Oxford, a sage-colored sweater cut loose and comfortable, black running shoes, and several pairs of sweatpants.   
  
"Wuffie was afraid Quatre would try to convert you to his wardrobe, but you know he has more sense than that. But he did pick out these." Duo tossed him an olive drab tank top and a pair of black cyling shorts. "Figured they'd be good when you start working out again. And-uh . . ." He turned holding the largest bag against his chest. The contents appeared to be something bulky. "We all chipped in on the rest of it, but this is from me. Sort of a welcome back present, I guess."  
  
Blushing, he pulled out a black leather bomber jacket. "I never saw you wear anything like this, but, well, I just thought you'd look good in it. It's got a zip out lining, so you can wear it most of the year. I saved the receipt, in case you hated it. You can exchange it if you--"  
  
"No, I like it." Heero stood up and put it on. It was lighter than it looked, and was made of some very soft, supple leather. It came down over his hips far enough to hide a gun in the back of a waistband, and was just loose enough to not show a shoulder holster. There were inner pockets for other supplies, too. Heero stroked his fingers down one sleeve, admiring the texture.   
  
"Lambskin," Duo told him. "You really like it?"  
  
"I really do," Heero said, smiling. "Very much!" He rolled his shoulders and shot the cuffs. "It fits."   
  
"Turn around and let me see." Duo made an approving sound deep in his throat. "Hot. Very hot."  
  
Heero felt his own face go warm. "I like lambskin. But it must have been expensive. You should let me pay you back."  
  
Duo ran a hand down the arm of the jecket and shook his head. "No way. I want you to have it, from me. The others don't want your money either, so don't bother asking. It's no biggie, really. We just wanted to give you something to get started with. Relena said you didn't leave anything behind, and even if you had, it probably wouldn't have fit anymore. You're a lot taller." He passed a hand over their heads. "Wow, a little taller than me, and I grew a lot. Anyway, I just--I saw this in a store window and thought you'd look good in it. And you do."  
  
Duo was still standing very close. Touched by the gift and Duo's assessment of how he looked in it, Heero chanced a hug and was glad when Duo relaxed against him and wrapped his arms around his waist.   
  
"Yeah!" Duo's chuckle was a little muffled against Heero's shoulder. "Lambskin's good." He stayed there, leaning on Heero, and after a moment he yawned, then chuckled again. "We better be careful. The sisters will think we're dancing."  
  
"I know how to dance."  
  
"Seriously?"   
  
"Part of my urban infiltration training."  
  
"Very useful."  
  
"Do you think you might want to dance with me sometime?" Heero asked, resting his cheek against Duo's hair. It was a mess; stray strands tickled his nose and threatened to get in his mouth, but it was clean and soft and smelled of sandalwood. "I know you like those kinds of clubs."  
  
Duo laughed softly, then stepped back. "Damn reporters. I got no secrets from you."  
  
Heero slipped the jacket off and hung it carefully in the closet. "I wish I had something to give you."  
  
When he turned back, Duo was holding something out to him. It was the comb Heero taken from the kit bag; he'd put it in his back pocket. Only then did it occur to him that this appeared to be the same pink comb Duo had owned during the war.   
  
Duo gave him an embarassed grin. "I'm dead on my feet from that damn pill. Could you--That is, would you mind? Your gift to me. I remember you were really good at braiding."   
  
Considering what had happened the only other time he'd combed Duo's hair for him, he wondered if this was a show of trust, too. He wouldn't fail him this time. He handed Duo a pair of the new sweats and took the other for himself. "If you're going to fall asleep, you should get ready for bed first."  
  
Duo nodded and went into the bathroom. As Heero changed into his sweats and a black tee shirt, he heard the sound of the toilet, then water running. He sat on the bed with his back to the headboard. Duo came out wearing just the sweats. It was the first time Heero had seen him like that in years. He was still very slim and didn't have any hair on his chest, but he wasn't a skinny kid anymore, either. His belly was very flat and hard. Heero tried not to notice whether his nipples were hard or not, but failed. They were, but the room was cool.  
  
Duo was looking more sleepy than ever as he climbed up in front of Heero and stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his hands. His toenails were unpainted now.  
  
"What happened to the Cayman Green?" Heero asked.   
  
Duo wiggled his toes. "I had Kat take it off. I thought maybe it weirded you the other day."  
  
"No." He'd only been worried he was seeing things. Heero took the elastic off the end of the braid and pulled the hair free. The conditioner Duo used now made it even softer than he remembered, and very shiny. There were hardly any tangles. He took his time anyway, teasing out those he found, then using long, slow strokes. Soon it hung in a chestnut cascade between them. It was so long it pooled in Heero's lap, heavy and soft against his bare feet. He tried not to think too much about that, either.  
  
"You're still good at this," Duo said softly.  
  
"It's longer now."  
  
"Yeah, I should probably trim it more."  
  
"Don't cut it off," Heero said. He hadn't meant it to come out sounding like an order.  
  
Duo chuckled. "Yes, sir! I won't, sir!" He'd understood what Heero meant and made a joke. The bad mood swing seemed to have passed.  
  
"Do you want to talk a little more?" Heero asked. He moved the comb with his right hand and followed it with his left, letting Duo know he was there, that he was relaxed and receptive to conversation. And it felt good under his hands.   
  
Duo sighed. "That morning, afterwards? You said we'd made a mistake."  
  
"I was still upset. But mostly I meant that I'd made a mistake. I didn't sleep all that night. I was sure that you wouldn't want to stay friends anymore."  
  
"Yeah, me, too. But we did, huh?"  
  
"Yes we did." Somehow they'd both managed to just pretend nothing had happened. "Dr. Batoosingh told me you think of me as your best friend. Is that true?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"Do you think that's really true?"  
  
Duo turned and looked at him. "Whadya mean? Of course it's true."  
  
Heero dropped his hands in his lap, or rather, into the pile of Duo's hair there. "You live with Trowa and Quatre. You've seen more of them than you ever did of me. You've had fun with them, gone through difficulties. And they were there for you. I wasn't."  
  
Duo turned away again and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. But I never forgot about you. Even though we screwed up on the lover thing, I still felt good whenever we were around each other, even if we were arguing or competing for a target. I felt different with you than anyone else. I still do. Kinda illogical, but it's the truth."  
  
Heero lifted Duo's hair away from his back and started braiding it. "I feel the same way. I thought of you all the time, when I could think. But it's not the same as actually dealing with each other, like you do with them."  
  
"Still jealous, huh? It's OK, Heero. I'd be way worse, in your place." Duo yawned. "But I know what you're saying. We need to be careful we're not just seeing each other as some image we built up in our heads, right?"  
  
"Yes." What he felt for Duo right this moment, all the affection and attraction, and the worry, too; he wanted to make sure it was based on fact, not some romantic fantasy. "This situation. It's not like everyday life. I think I know you, Duo. I just want to be sure. To be honest, I'm not even sure who I am yet. I feel--different."  
  
Duo yawned and rubbed his eyes. "You are, and you're not." He yawned again, and waved a hand in front of his face as if he could brush away the exhaustion. "Sorry, I'm passing out. You are different, but so far it's just that you seem happier, less driven. The good things still seem to be there. Like the way you took charge over there." He hooked a thumb in the direction of the hostel and blushed again. Without his shirt on, Heero could see that it went all the way down to his chest this time. "I--uh, I kinda still like that."  
  
Heero smiled as he wound the elastic around the finished braid. "That's good, because I can't seem to help it. So you won't mind if I take charge and order 02 to see Dr. Batoosingh with me tomorrow?"  
  
"Tricky, Heero! Waiting until I'm drugged." But Duo was grinning as he shifted back between Heero and the wall and got under the blankets. Curling up facing him, he closed his eyes. "Yeah yeah, mission accepted and all that. Sleep now."  
  
"Good." Heero took one of the pillows and got up.   
  
Duo opened one eye, frowning. "Where y'goin'?"  
  
"I can sleep on the floor. There's an extra blanket in the closet."  
  
Duo snorted. "Back in bed, Yuy. That's an order. "  
  
"You take charge, too, then?"  
  
"When you do dumb things. C'mon. I'll behave."  
  
Heero slid under the covers. The bed was not large. There was no way not to lie close together, especially when Duo reached over and pulled him closer, leaving his arm across Heero's chest as he fell asleep.  
  
Heero switched off the light. Soft yellow light from the corridor showed through the observation port, and nurses walked by now and then. He could hear the clatter of a gurney somewhere, and soft Spanish music from the radio at the nurses' station. It was peaceful. Tomorrow would probably be difficult; he had no illusions about that. There were still many things to be learned and talked about. 'Like those condoms,' he thought, then pushed the thought away for later. But for now it was peaceful.  
  
It was also very pleasant to feel Duo's breath against his shoulder, and the warmth of his body beside him. He didn't even mind the arm across his chest. He could get up quickly if he needed to. He understood now why Duo would want to sleep with the others, even if they weren't having sex. This was good, much better than sleeping alone.   
  
Moving carefully so as not to wake Duo, Heero reached over and lifted the braid forward across his chest. He ran his fingertips over it, then clasped his hand over it and Duo's wrist, wondering if they'd still sleep together if they decided to stay just friends.   
  
He hoped so.


	15. New Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero woke in the same position he'd fallen asleep, with Duo's bangs tickling his nose. The slant of sunlight across the room told him he had slept later than usual. His left hand was still covering Duo's wrist and the end of his braid, his right arm, trapped between them, was a little cramped. By Duo's watch on the nightstand, it was nearly eleven.  
  
Duo had shifted only slightly, throwing a leg over Heero's. He could feel the press of the sleeping man's erection against his hip. Heero had one of his own, the first morning hard-on he'd had in recent memory. He took it as a sign of returning health, though no doubt triggered by his bedmate's proximity, warmth, and musky sandalwood scent.   
  
He reached up and brushed the hair away from his nose. Duo immediately raised his head and grinned. "Oi, awake at last. 'bout time."  
  
Heero rubbed at his nose again. It still tickled. "Been awake long?"  
  
"A while, but I didn't feel like moving." He kissed Heero lightly on the lips, then propped his head on one hand. "I sleep good with you."  
  
Heero smiled, surprised but not displeased by the kiss. "I slept well, too."  
  
"We scandalized some nurse a little while ago. I saw her look in, then disappear like a scared rabbit. Of course, it is a Catholic hospital."  
  
"We didn't do anything they would object to."  
  
Duo gazed into his eyes, then grinned and wiggled his hips. "Not yet, anyway. Ya pitchin' that tent for me, buddy?"  
  
Warning sensors went off in Heero's mind even as his body responded to the suggestive words. "I would rather you did not tease me, Duo."  
  
The grin disappeared. Duo looked a little guilty. "Sorry. That wasn't very nice, was it?" He pulled away, though he couldn't go very far with the wall at his back. He did manage to put a few inches of free space between them but to Heero it felt like a kilometer.   
  
Acting on instinct, he placed a hand behind Duo's neck and drew him in for another relatively innocent kiss. Duo didn't resist or respond, just let him do it. When it was over his violet eyes were full of confusion.  
  
Heero stroked a stray strand from Duo's cheek and noted how Duo automatically leaned into his touch. "I want us to be honest about things like that. That felt like 'messing around'."  
  
"Kinda, I guess. What do you want? I mean, I kinda got the impression, these last few days that you'd like to pick up where we left off that night, only better. But then you push me away."  
  
Heero sighed. "I'm not good at this--talking and feeling and all. I don't have the experience you do. But I've never wanted anyone else except you." He searched for words; feelings were difficult things to deal with. "I liked the way it felt yesterday when you told me you loved me. I didn't like the way I felt just now. It was still you, but it didn't feel like the same person. Does that make sense? It felt like it could have been anybody here with you and you'd have said that."  
  
Duo frowned. "It really bothers you, doesn't it? That I'm 'experienced'."  
  
"Perhaps, although I don't really know what that includes. The letter said you were saving certain things for Mr. Right, meaning me."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'm glad. But I don't know what else there is to do, or what you've done, or what it meant to you."  
  
"You want a list? A resume? A detailed mission report on every partner I've had and what we did?" There was an edge in Duo's voice now.  
  
"No. I don't have the right to ask for that."  
  
Duo sat up and crossed his arms. He was at least 'pissed' now, if not fully upset. "So you want to know but you don't? Jeeze, Heero, make up your mind!"  
  
"I'm sorry of that seems like a contradiction. I don't understand it myself." He didn't like feeling this way, especially after the good feelings earlier. Heero began to wish they could just act, rather than talking. Talking always seemed to lead to conflict. 'And back out of it,' he reminded himself.   
  
He sat up and turned to sit facing Duo. "You don't let men do certain things, right?"  
  
"Does Shinigami take it up the ass, Heero? That what ya want to know? I told you already, I don't." Duo turned and glared out the window as if the swans in the park had offended him.  
  
"You have condoms and lubricant in your bag."  
  
Duo's eyebrows shot up and he rolled his eyes. "I should have expected that. You always were thorough in your reconnaissance, huh? OK, look. I don't let guys do that to me. But I never said I don't do it to them. Get it? So I have supplies, and not just for that. For other stuff, y'know, like blow jobs? Whether I'm giving or getting, I always use protection. I'm clean, one hundred percent disease free, and I mean to stay that way."  
  
"I see." Heero tried to analyze the impact of this new information, but found he couldn't. Duo had fucked other men, given them oral sex and accepted it from them. Caught on this, he didn't think it out carefully before asking, "And with Trowa and Quatre--?"  
  
Duo gave him an incredulous glare, then scrambled off the bed and looked around for his clothes.   
  
"Duo, wait! Don't go."  
  
Duo ignored him, muttering and cursing as he stomped into the bathroom. Heero slid out of bed and caught him by the arm as he came out again in yesterday's clothes. Duo whirled to face him and for a moment Heero was certain Duo was going to take a swing at him. As he braced for it, it dawned on him that for the first time in a long time, he was not physically stronger than his opponent. Duo had pulled free easily and now had his back to the door. Heero dropped his hands and sat down on the edge of the bed to show he desired no confrontation.  
  
Duo glared at him for a moment longer, then his whole demeanor changed. Shaking his head, he dropped his fists, came over to Heero, and hugged him. When he pulled back there were tears in his eyes.  
  
"You always were the blunt one, weren't you? Listen up Heero, 'cause I don't want to ever have this conversation again, OK? With Trowa and Quatre? No blowjobs. No fucking. Kissing, sure, and some messing around, but above the belt, mostly. It could have been more, but I always held back, even after I thought you were dead. I honestly don't know what would have happened, long term. Tro, Kat, and me? We've been through a lot together, stuff only we could handle, 'cause of who we are and who we used to be. I guess we love each other because of all that. And, since we're being honest here, they're hot. You gotta see that, too, right? And they think I'm hot. It probably could have turned into something. But you *did* come back, Heero. You're here now for real, not just some dream. At least I hope not!" He let out a shaky laugh and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. "Some of my dreams are pretty graphic! It really sucked to wake up and realize nothing had changed. Even now, I keep pinching myself, scared to death I'm going to wake up back home, or in the hospital again and you'll still be dead." Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. "Oh great. Here I go!"  
  
Heero stood and took Duo in his arms, holding him tight. Duo wrapped himself around Heero and pressed his face into the curve of his neck. "I feel the same way," Heero assured him, feeling wetness against his neck above his teeshirt. "I had those same dreams, even before the war was over. But this is real We're together. I want to be your best friend, Duo, and I want to be your lover, if you'll give me time to learn how to be a good one."  
  
Duo hugged him tighter and nodded against his neck. "I want all that. There's some stuff we've got to work out, sure, but you're the only Gundam Boy for me. Got it?"  
  
"Got it." Heero kissed him on the side of the head and then wiped the tears from Duo's cheeks and kissed him again on the lips. Looking him straight in those sad, beautiful eyes, he told him, "I love you, Duo. Don't ever doubt that, no matter what."  
  
Duo swallowed hard and nodded. "OK. You got it. Look, I should go back and grab a shower, get some clean clothes. I'll meet you out front in an hour and take you to lunch before we go see the doc. That sound like a plan?"  
  
Heero smiled. "I would add one element. Take your meds."  
  
Duo grinned and saluted. "Sir, yes sir!"  
  
+  
  
Duo showed up at the appointed time wearing faded jeans, black jump boots, and a black tee shirt under his new grey overcoat. The coat was made of some very soft wool, and cut to flow loosely around him. As he strode across the street to join Heero, braid swinging behind him, Heero grinned, thinking, 'He looks like a model, or film star!'   
  
Duo was very good looking. His face was more defined now, not so round, but still sweet and boyish when he smiled. His large, expressive eyes, together with the full mouth and high cheekbones, gave him an exotic quality without making him overly pretty, the way so many young men in advertisements were. He was beautiful but masculine at the same time. That open coat accentuated his slender, long-legged build. Heero caught himself wondering what it would feel like now, for Duo to sit in his lap with his legs around Heero, the way they had that night.   
  
Duo stopped a few feet away and gave him an uncertain grin. "Uh, you OK?"  
  
"Yes. Why?"   
  
"Well, you were sorta--Uh, well, never mind."  
  
His expression must have given away some of his thoughts. "You look really good, Duo," he told him, and was pleased to see his friend blush. "Really hot."   
  
Duo fell back a step and brought a hand dramatically up in front of him, fluttering his fingers like a fan. "Why Mr. Yuy, you'll turn a girl's head with such attentions!" he exclaimed in a comically falsetto voice and some accent Heero suspected was supposed to sound American Southern.   
  
"If you were a girl, I would not be giving you such attentions."  
  
Duo's grin widened as he fell into step beside Heero. "Well, back atcha, buddy. You're looking seriously hot, yourself. Damn, I'm glad I got you that jacket!"  
  
Heero smiled. He wore the new blue jeans and sage green sweater under the black bomber jacket. He hadn't thought about trying to look hot, just to stay warm. It was damp and overcast today, and he'd noticed yesterday that he felt the cold more than he did normally. A lot of things about his body had changed in the past months; he hoped his strength and stamina would come back quickly, now that he could exercise and eat properly again. The restaurant was only a few blocks away, but he was a bit tired by the time they got there. It was annoying, and a bit unsettling.   
  
Duo was quieter than usual once they settled down at their table in the busy little restaurant. He ordered the various tapanades for them, but didn't eat very much when they arrived. By the end of the meal he was fidgeting and tugging at the end of his braid. Heero had already noted this as an indicator of anxiety.  
  
"Are you worried about our session?" Heero asked as they started back to the hospital. Duo shrugged. Taking this as a yes, Heero slipped his arm though his, the way Quatre had with Trowa. Duo gave him a surprised look, but did not seem displeased.  
  
+  
  
Dr. Batoosingh agreed to see them both, but with the stipulation that they both first tell him, without the other present, what had happened in the silo. Heero went in first. It took about ten minutes to outline the scenario, describe events, list his own reactions and report observations on Duo's behavior. Batoosingh asked no questions, only nodded, then asked him to have Duo step in.  
  
Duo was slouched on a bench outside the door. He shot Heero a 'here goes nothing!' look and went in. Heero took his place on the bench and watched the clock on the opposite wall. Five minutes passed, then ten. He heard Duo's raised voice, first laughing nervously, then perhaps crying. Another five minutes passed. After nearly forty minutes Batoosingh opened the door and asked Heero back in.   
  
Duo was curled up in a corner of the couch with a box of tissues on his lap. Used ones littered the floor and his eyes were red.   
  
Normally Heero would have taken the far end, situating his back against the corner but instead he sat by Duo and offered his hand. Duo clasped it with an embarrassed little laugh.   
  
Batoosingh took the chair facing them and consulted his notes for a moment, tapping the side of his chin with one finger. "Well, both of you describe the day in question in very similar terms, up to the point of Duo's panic attack. Each of you takes responsibility for the unfortunate miscommunication that followed. In the months that followed, as I understand it, you were able not only to continue working effectively together, but to remain friends. Would you both agree, so far? Good. Then I must ask you, what is the problem?"  
  
Duo exchanged a startled look with Heero. "What do you mean? Heero still thinks he tried to rape me and I still know I drove him away. That's the problem!"  
  
Batoosingh regarded Heero over the top of his glasses. "At that time, which of you was physically stronger?"  
  
"I was. Duo was a very clever and elusive fighter, but I had him at a disadvantage. He was wounded, naked, and unarmed. In hand-to-hand conflict, I would have won."  
  
"So you could easily have overpowered him again, had you chosen to do so?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But instead, you withdrew."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That does not sound like rape to me, Heero. Duo, you went after him, tried to talk to him and explain, both then and the next morning?"  
  
"Yeah, but I'd already fucked up so bad--"  
  
Batoosingh held up his hand. "You tried."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You, Heero, the product of a highly unusual, and by some definitions, abusive upbringing, were completely inexperienced sexually. This was the first time you had ever attempted physical intimacy, you had just survived a battle and were still in a potentially life-threatening situation, and you were powerfully attracted to Duo."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And Duo, though slightly more experienced, you came out of an even more traumatic childhood, had been raped twice, and had never had any support around those issues?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Remind me, how old were you both?"  
  
"My exact age and date of birth are unknown, but I would estimate sixteen," Heero replied, wondering why Batoosingh was asking about something that he'd clearly already seen in Heero's file.  
  
Duo shrugged again and rolled his eyes. "Ditto that. What he said."  
  
Batoosingh sat back and smiled. "Well, then. Given all that, I'd say you two did remarkably well at the time and continue to do so."  
  
Duo blinked. "Say what, doc?"  
  
"Oh, I'm not down playing how traumatic it must have seemed for both of you, but that particular incident is, in perspective, quite mild. Sexual experimentation, even falling in love, is not uncommon between boys at that age. Young, confused, overwhelmed by the powerful forces of puberty, it's very easy for things to go wrong, too, as you both know all too well. While the unique circumstances certainly magnified the events, I would still contend that you experienced nothing out of the ordinary and that you handled yourselves admirably, given the skills you had to work with. I suggest you both apologize one last time if you feel the need, then let it go."   
  
"Let it go? Just like that?" Duo was incredulous. "All that time in the war? All the time after? This?" Duo held out his scarred wrists. "You're saying just forget about all that? That he disappeared and tried to die and we're just supposed to say 'oops, my bad' and get on with it?"  
  
"No, certainly not. But I want you to understand that your mental illness and Heero's are most likely unrelated to that particular event. There are many other issues we should deal with in further sessions, but that, though it looms so large in your memory, is something you cannot change and should forgive yourselves for. No matter how much you wish things had turned out differently that night, you cannot change what happened. As my grandmother used to say, you can't step in the same river twice. Events move on and you can only go forward. Regret changes nothing, except to guide future actions."  
  
Heero sat in stunned silence, still clasping Duo's hand. It was true. If he'd really wanted to force sex with Duo that night, he probably could have. He certainly could have made another attempt, then or later. Duo had indicated he was receptive on more than one occasion. "So, it wasn't rape, but--" He waved his free hand, not certain what to call it.  
  
"Rampaging teenage hormones?" Duo offered. "I told you, Heero, I know the difference. You stopped and you left me alone."  
  
Heero nodded slowly. "Then I apologize for my single mindedness and loss of control."  
  
"Apology accepted, 01. I apologize for being a head case, then and now."  
  
Heero started to object, to say he need not apologize for something so obviously beyond his control. Instead, he squeezed Duo's hand and said, "Apology accepted, 02. But, Doctor, you can't mean that we're suddenly cured, just by admitting something so simple?"  
  
"No, but you can begin to heal. If you imagine your unstable emotions as a fire burning out of control, consider this removing some of the fuel from the blaze. There is that much less to fight against.   
  
"Heero, Dr. Santos and I have been observing you and comparing notes. We are both satisfied that you pose no threat to anyone at the moment. I would ask you to remain in therapy for the next six months, and to have certain blood levels closely monitored for the time being. But I see no indication for further hospitalization or psychotropic medication. I wish I could give you some detailed reason for this, but the simple fact is, your overdose of Unadol, either in conjunction with or a reaction to physical deterioration, seems to have righted the chemical imbalance causing your psychotic tendencies. Of course, you still need to adjustment to normal life, but as a returning combat veteran, you would face those challenges anyway. It appears you have a very good support system with your friends and I'm optimistic that you will find your way. Establishing a new relationship with Duo here will also present challenges--"  
  
Duo brightened considerably. "Yeah, I'm a handful, all right, but you already knows that, don't ya, Heero? So doc, you're saying I can take him home?"  
  
"I'd like Heero to remain in Madrid for another week under medical oversight, just to be certain he is stabilized and progressing well. But he may move over to the hostel if he'd be more comfortable, and can go about the city freely with you four. Heero, I'd rather you don't go off alone until you're physically stablized. As for the relationship between you two, I suggest you proceed carefully, allowing feelings to develop naturally and in their own time."  
  
"Yeah, we kind of came up with that ourselves already." Duo shifted a little closer to Heero. "Ya don't think that we'll, like, figure out we don't really feel what we think we do, or anything, right?"  
  
"I would not say anything with certainty, Duo. That would be unethical of me. However, having seen the two of you together, the way you respond to each other and so naturally offer support?" He indicated their current close position on the couch. "I think you start from a very good foundation."  
  
"Thank you, Doctor. I believe you are correct," said Heero. "But what about Duo's condition?"  
  
"Whadya mean? I'm fine compared to you!" Duo exclaimed indignantly.   
  
"Physically, perhaps," Batoosingh replied. "But you are still not completely stable. I hope you're not assuming that all your problems will disappear simply because Heero is with you again?"  
  
"Well, yeah, I sorta did!"  
  
Batoosingh consulted his watch. "I cancelled the next session. We still have some time. There are a few things I'd like to discuss with you. It's up to you whether Heero stays."  
  
"He stays if he wants to." Duo wound an arm through Heero's, and Heero felt him tensing again.  
  
"I'll stay, Doctor."  
  
"Very well. I want to talk a little with Duo about why he's been lying to me for so long."  
  
"Hey, I don't lie!" Duo objected.  
  
"Indeed? On several occasions over the past two years you've told me that you have never experienced anal sex, referring to yourself as a 'backdoor virgin.' You took great pride in that; it was an important distinction. In light of what you and Heero have told me today, it seems that this is not true."  
  
"I wasn't lying." Duo slouched lower into the corner of Dr. Santos' office couch, refusing to look directly at Dr. Batoosingh. "Those times, when I was a kid? They don't count."  
  
"Really? Why not?"  
  
"Cause it was rape!" Duo let go of Heero's hand to wrap his arms around his up drawn knees. "It didn't count 'cause I didn't want it! I fought back every time. I tried to run. I just-- They were--I never let them! They just grabbed me and held me down and did it."  
  
"I also asked you if you had ever been raped, first during our initial session, and a number of times after that," Batoosingh said, his voice gentle rather than accusatory.   
  
Duo huddled in on himself. "Yeah, well. I--I just didn't want to-- I couldn't."  
  
"Duo told me that if he didn't think about it, he could pretend it never happened," Heero put in quietly. "I think sometimes he was able to convince himself that it hadn't."  
  
"Thank you Heero, but Duo needs to speak for himself."  
  
"Yeah, what he said," Duo muttered.   
  
"But you are willing to admit it now?"  
  
"Guess so."  
  
"Heero, what do you think of this information?"  
  
Heero considered it. "I'm sorry it happened to him, and even more so since he was only a child at the time. It was in no way his fault. If I had been there, I would have tried to protect him and keep it from happening. But I wasn't and that's only speculation. But I'm with him now and will stop anyone who attempts to harm him in any way, including that way."   
  
He considered this, testing his own logic and thoroughness. When he said he'd stop anyone trying to hurt Duo, he meant kill, and assumed that was understood. After a moment more consideration, he put an arm around Duo's shoulders and added, "I agree with Duo's decision to make a distinction between consensual sex and rape. Regardless of what was done to him, he is still a 'backdoor virgin' as far as I'm concerned."  
  
Duo had hidden his face in his arms during this declaration, but his ears and the back of his neck had gone scarlet. He let out a shaky laugh without raising his head. "See why I love the guy, doc?"   
  
"Yes. I think Heero will be a great help to you, and that you should trust his opinion in this matter. I hope you'll be willing to speak with me about these issues in future sessions. As overwhelming as it may seem at the moment, now that you have admitted and accepted that these things happened to you, you'll finally be able free yourself from them."  
  
Duo looked up and shook his head. "You knew all along, didn't you? That's why you kept asking?"  
  
"I had some idea. I am a pretty good shrink, after all." Batoosingh was actually grinning.  
  
Duo grabbed a tissue from the box and wiped angrily at his nose and eyes. "Well shit!" He blew his nose forcefully and folded his arms. "Shit."  
  
Heero chuckled, knowing Duo well enough to take this as a good sign.  
  
\+   
  
The session left Heero feeling tired and drained, but lighter, too.   
  
"So, what do you want to do?" Duo asked as they left the office.   
  
"Get some fresh air, I think. I'd like to walk around the lake, if you feel up to it. But maybe we should eat first. You hardly touched any lunch."  
  
"I'll find something along the way," Duo said, taking his hand and pulling Heero toward the elevator. He was smiling and bouncy again; Heero hoped Dr. Batoosingh was right, but knew better than to completely trust any mood upswing. "You should take your pills before we go. I'll wait down front."  
  
"Way ahead of ya, buddy!" Duo reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottles. Shaking out the required pills, he showed Heero, then went to the corridor water fountain and downed them.   
  
"Mission accomplished, 01." He recaptured Heero's hand and leaned against him as they waited for the elevator. "Do I get a reward?"   
  
Duo was being flirty again. His voice and body language were suggestive, but there was a mix of humor and need in his eyes now that hadn't been there this morning. Duo needed contact with him, and reassurance. Heero noted this, waited until they were alone on the elevator, then pulled him close and kissed him, tracing Duo's bottom lip lightly with the tip of his tongue. "You are a good soldier." Stepping back, he leaned against the back wall, facing the doors like any good law abiding elevator patron.   
  
Caught completely by surprise, Duo stared at him, then leaned into him again, hooking his little finger through Heero's. "You wanna rethink that walk idea?"  
  
Heero smiled. "No. The reward was commensurate with the effort."  
  
Duo turned so he was facing Heero, slid his hands into his open jacket, and pressed up against him. "What if I eat all my vegetables at supper?"  
  
Heero stifled a groan. Taking things slowly with Duo was going to require a great deal of self discipline. He wondered if Duo was expecting him to share his room at the hostel. He wondered if that was a good idea. While he supposed it would be wiser to have a room of his own, it wasn't a very appealing concept at the moment. He kissed Duo again as the elevator came to rest, then steered him outside. "I think we better take that walk."  
  
Just as they started down the sidewalk, however, Quatre burst out the front door of the hostel across the street and ran off in the direction of the park. His biker jacket was unzipped, exposing his bare chest, and his sneakers weren't tied. Quatre was fast; he was already out of sight around the corner when Trowa ran out, wearing nothing but a pair of half-buttoned jeans.   
  
"Quatre, come back!" he shouted, looking around wildly. Heero and Duo hurried over. "Did you see him?" he demanded breathlessly.   
  
Heero pointed. "That way."  
  
"What the hell happened?" asked Duo.   
  
"We had a fight," Trowa muttered, dragging his fingers back through his bangs. Instead of following Quatre, he turned and stalked back upstairs, but not before Heero read the mix of worry and anger in those green eyes. Judging by Duo's dumbfounded expression, this was not a normal occurance between the pair.  
  
"I'll take our runner," Duo said, striding off in the direction Quatre had gone. "You go sit on Trowa until I drag him back!"


	16. 01 To 03, Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

As Heero and Duo crossed the street to the hostel, they were surprised to see Quatre burst through the front door and practically run off down the sidewalk in the direction of the park. His biker jacket was unzipped, exposing his bare chest, and his sneakers weren't tied. He was already out of sight around the corner when Trowa ran out, wearing nothing but a pair of half buttoned jeans.   
  
"Quatre, come back!" he shouted, looking around wildly. Heero and Duo hurried over. "Did you see him?" he demanded breathlessly.   
  
Heero pointed. "That way."  
  
"What the hell happened?" asked Duo.   
  
"We had a fight," Trowa muttered, dragging his fingers back through his bangs. Instead of following Quatre, he turned and stalked back upstairs, but not before Heero read the mix of worry and anger in those green eyes. Judging by Duo's dumbfounded expression, this was not a normal occurance between the pair.  
  
"I'll take our runner," Duo said, striding off in the direction Quatre had gone. "You go sit on Trowa until I drag him back!"  
  
Heero climbed the stairs slowly. He agreed with Duo's logic in such a division of labor, but he did not relish confronting Trowa in what he guessed were embarassing circumstances.  
  
Trowa's room was next to Duo's. Finding the door slightly ajar, Heero nudged it open and took a cautious look inside.   
  
"Heero." Trowa remained where he was, staring out the window, long arms locked across his chest. Black bands of some abstract pattern ringed each bicep, accentuating the lean muscle there.  
  
Heero unconsciously copied the pose, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall just inside the door. As the silence stretched out between them, Heero studied his silent companion. Trowa had always been the tallest, but Heero had almost caught up with him. He didn't kid himself about his chances in a fight. Trowa's bare back and shoulders were lean and tightly muscled, rigid with tension. His stance gave a clear warning: Keep your distance.  
  
On the other hand-- Heero's gaze drifted lower. The jeans were still not properly fastened and hung low and loose on those narrow hips, almost ready to slip off save for the slight swell of the buttocks just below. Trowa was browner now, with no sign of tan line, and had an intricate, multicolored tattoo across his lower back. It suited him and drew attention to--- Heero shook his head: don't go there. It's Trowa! Under different circumstances, however, it would make a rather alluring picture.   
  
But this was not different circumstances. Trowa was his married friend and he had a mission. "Do you wish to talk about it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"All right."  
  
Heero sat down just inside the open door and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Oh c'mon! You didn't really expect *these* two to fall into each other's arms and cry and share all their innermost secrets, did you? --P the Realist**


	17. 02 to 04, Come In!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Contrary to what some people thought, Quatre couldn't actually read minds at will, though he did occasionally pick up on a strong thought intentionally directed at him. But his empathic ability was strong, and came so naturally that he was eight or nine years old before it occurred to him that this might be something not everyone could do. In his sheltered little world, the pampered only son of a doting father and older sisters, he was considered sensitive and gentle, a sweet, caring child concerned with the feelings of others.   
  
The fact was he'd had little choice. The feelings of others, at least the strong ones, bombarded him every hour of the day. Even when he learned to control them more there was an ever-present murmur on the edges of his consciousness, like the sound of the atmospheric generators on an L-station; something you only noticed if you thought about it, but it was always there. When he chose to pay attention, he could focus and delve into them; otherwise, he let them flow past.   
  
His abilities made him privy to more human thought than most, something he usually took for granted. He knew how the human heart worked and looked on most with what he was told was an unusual degree of compassion. But if you saw into hearts and saw how similar most of them were, how could you not be compassionate? Everyone seemed to have the same mix of fear and envy and love and kindness, etc., just in differing degrees.   
  
This all helped, the acceptance and blocking and compassion, but sometimes when something came along that was too strong or too unexpected to block, it still rocked him.  
  
Especially when it came from someone he cared about.  
  
The first time he locked eyes with Trowa Barton, standing there surrendering to each other at the open hatches of their gundams, he'd known they were meant for each other. He really had surrendered though not in the way he'd intended. And in that same moment he'd had his first flash from Trowa. He'd felt the other boy's heart melt, and had seen himself through Trowa's eyes, looking very fragile and brave.   
  
The tall, silent boy with the wounded green eyes saw things in Quatre he'd never known about himself, and it wasn't an illusion. Quatre felt naked with Trowa, even when he was still very much a child. He was naive and awkward, too young to understand what his heart already knew, but the first time they played music together Quatre had known that Trowa was his future, and felt that same wondering revelation from the other boy.   
  
It had been days before they got further than shy looks and one-sided conversations. They moved beyond simple friendship when Trowa's mind had flashed an image of them kissing, something that hadn't even occurred to the sheltered little Arab. The flash brought them to their first hesitant kiss under a full desert moon, and that kiss revealed to him how deeply Quatre could link with another through physical contact, at least with someone he loved. Sex, when that finally happened aboard the Peacemillion the day Trowa's memory came back, allowed for even deeper connection. Quatre soon learned not to reach out without permission.   
  
He forgot those lessons for a while when the war ended and paid the price. But Trowa was always there to catch him when he fell-- always patient, always carrying his love for Quatre like a beacon in his heart. He seemed to understand why Quatre had to sin and thrash and fight and fuck anyone who took his fancy for months after the peace. Quatre just knew he'd needed to be someone else for a while, someone not expected to be good or obedient or circumspect or polite. When it was all over, he felt a little better despite the scandals he'd left in his wake, a lot freer, and Trowa was still there with open arms and sins of his own. Looking back now, the little blond pilot of Sandrock seemed like a distant stranger. Quatre Winner-Barton was his own man, and Trowa's.   
  
And he was still an empath. He tried not to use his abilities much anymore, except when they could do some good. He still took a mental reading on Duo now and then, though he had to be careful. When Duo was at his worst, it was like a shot of heroin straight to the brain.   
  
He didn't need to read Trowa very often; his lover's silence had never been any barrier. Perhaps that's what had drawn Trowa to him in the first place, that unspoken understanding. Quatre preferred this arrangement. He just wanted to love him like a normal person, not a mind reader. It was a matter of trust.   
  
That's why this hurt so badly.   
  
He'd always known that Trowa loved Heero, or that he thought he did. What Quatre had picked up on over the years wasn't the same as what Trowa felt for him. It was darker, with a tinge of anger to it. Trowa had saved Heero's life, watched over him through the months of his recovery after 01 had tried to self-destruct, sheltered and cared for him. And Heero didn't love him back.   
  
Quatre's own lack of jealousy surprised him. Perhaps that was the advantage of being able to pick up on Heero's feelings, as well.   
  
Heero had very slowly come to care deeply for all the Gundam pilots, much more than the others suspected, even now. Quatre had watched those feelings develop during the war, especially during the weeks they'd spent together in the Sanq Kingdom. He'd knew how hard Heero had fought against letting any of them get close to him, and with what bafflement he'd grudgingly accepted his fellow pilots' regard.   
  
Heero Yuy, perfect soldier, had not considered himself needing or worthy of love. He was amazed that the others spared him a thought. He saw himself at best as useful and competent, at worst as an emotionally crippled, uncommunicative, unattractive misanthrope. There was still plenty of that in him, but the core had changed. Duo Maxwell had changed it, just as Quatre had changed Trowa. 01 and 03. Two lonely souls unaware of how to feel love and connection, impacted by two souls who could not resist loving them and making them feel it, no matter what.   
  
Why Duo and Heero had not become lovers was something even Quatre didn't understand. They'd all suffered when they lost Heero at the war's end, but no one more than Duo. They all rejoiced to have him back, but no one more than Duo.   
  
Or so he'd thought.   
  
Quatre had never been jealous of Duo, either, even when Trowa had taken their broken friend into their own circle of intimacy. Sure, Trowa was sometimes tempted by Duo, but so was Quatre. Duo was beautiful and needy and a passionate cuddler. What they felt for each other was a simple mix of lust and friendship. Loving Duo and taking care of him was also a last act of friendship to Heero, sheltering his grieving friend.   
  
Quatre might have considered a three-way marriage. Trowa thought of it sometimes, too, but not Duo. At least not yet. Under that wise-cracking exterior, Duo was a romantic in every sense of the word and would only give himself that way to one he loved to the innermost center of his soul. There was only one name there, even months after that holocard arrived, and that name was Heero Yuy.  
  
Now Heero was back and Quatre's world had unexpectedly darkened, even as he tried to fend off the warning flashes. Trowa was reeling with the discovery that he still wanted Heero in that strange dark way of his, and mixed in now was the pain of seeing Duo and Heero together again. Trowa had comforted and loved both of them through hard times, and now they only had eyes for each other. Trowa's guilt over these feelings gave them power and made them even darker. He loved and wanted Quatre no less than ever; they were soul mates. In Trowa's mind, that only made it more despicable that he could desire Heero. And that led to resentment, and that to guilt and so forth in an ever-downward spiral.  
  
And he hadn't admitted one word of this to Quatre, even after four days in Madrid.   
  
Things had begun to build to a head yesterday, when they heard Heero and Duo fighting. Quatre had felt Duo slipping over the emotional edge and warned Trowa, who'd intervened, believing that Heero wasn't physically or emotionally up to dealing with a Maxwell meltdown. The scene that followed had left Quatre dizzy. It felt like Trowa was being pulled apart as he stood holding Duo and glaring at Heero. And Heero had been giving off strange energies, too, some of which were concern for Duo, but others just pure alpha male possessiveness and jealousy.   
  
But then, like a switch being thrown, Heero had taken control of himself and the situation. He'd stepped up and caught Duo the way Trowa caught Quatre when he'd gone sliding out of control. It was the best thing that could have happened for all of them. Quatre knew from that moment that Heero was really back, and stronger than ever in a whole new way. But Trowa was left guilty and sad.   
  
And still he said nothing to Quatre.  
  
Quatre thought Trowa had recovered when they made love last night. Trowa had always been a great lover; this time he was attentive and gentle rather than aggressive and domineering, calling him all those pet names he loved in a dozen languages. Either way was fine with Quatre and he surrendered happily.   
  
Trowa spent a long time tracing Quatre's face and body with his fingers in the candlelight, then used mouth, tongue and hands to tease him to panting, pleading desperation. When Trowa finally relented and took him face up on the bed, he was still gentle, making it last, making it unbelievably sensuous and mind blowing and good.   
  
When he knew Quatre was right on the edge of orgasm, Trowa whispered, "Touch my mind, mio ragazzo bello," and Quatre let it come, felt all the love he'd always known was there for him, and with it passion and contentment and loyalty that took his breath away. It was all real, all Trowa. He could not lie to Quatre like this, even if he'd wanted to. He was Quatre's and Quatre was his. Forever.  
  
Holding each other afterwards, Trowa had cried a little and told him between kisses how much he loved him and how glad he was that Duo had Heero back and how he wanted everyone to be happy and find their way.   
  
Sated, Quatre slept too deeply to pick up any outside thoughts and awoke late to find Trowa in the shower. When Quatre went to join him, Trowa was welcoming but quiet. He went quieter still when they went to fetch the others for breakfast and looked through the glass port to find Heero and Duo still asleep in that narrow little hospital bed, looking like they'd never been anywhere else but in each other's arms. Even through the closed door, Quatre sensed the deep contentment there. Wufei had turned away, blushing. Trowa had said nothing, just hidden behind his bangs and walked away. Quatre reached out just enough to feel the depression settling over him again.   
  
And so it was that they found themselves in bed this afternoon, taking advantage of their friends' absence and a sudden burst of passion. Trowa was still low, and Quatre made up his mind to repay the attention lavished on him the night before. When Trowa asked him to take him from behind, he'd happily obliged.  
  
Trowa was usually top, but not always, especially when he was really tired or stressed. It had been a difficult week for all of them, and Quatre already knew the inner battle his lover was fighting. So he grabbed those slim hips and gave it to him hard and fast, the way Trowa liked it, ramming his cock home over and over again, concentrating on nothing but not coming until Trowa was satisfied. It was a rare treat, to be inside him, and Quatre savored it: that hot tightness wrapped around him like a fist, the feel of Trowa's hipbones under his fingers, the sight of that Celtic band low across Trowa's back tattooed there for Quatre's pleasure at just such moments as this, the slap of his balls against Trowa's as they rocked and bucked against each other. It was wilder than usual, and suddenly Trowa was almost there, almost coming, making breathless, wordless animal sounds of pleasure.   
  
Quatre slammed in again, turned on beyond words. Trowa reared back, found Quatre's hand, and guided it to his throbbing, dripping erection. Quatre had scarcely closed his hand around the shaft when Trowa gasped out, "Don't stop! Oh please don't stop!"  
  
A breath away from orgasm himself, Quatre wasn't thinking of blocking any thoughts from his lover. Quite the opposite in fact. So when the flash came he didn't even try to avoid it. He found himself inside Trowa's head, drowning in the crashing tidal wave of pleasure still cascading through him as Trowa fantasized Heero Yuy taking him from behind, Heero Yuy's cock pounding into his ass, Heero Yuy's belly pressed to his back, Heero Yuy's balls heavy against his--  
  
The shock of it pushed Quatre over the edge into his own orgasm, but instead of his lover's name, he screamed out, "I'm not Heero!" and felt horrified realization shoot through Trowa. Sick and cold inside, Quatre shoved him away and looked around for his clothes, wanting to get the fuck out of that room before he had to look his lover in the face. He spotted his jeans and wrestled himself into them, narrowly avoiding catching his balls in the zipper.  
  
"Kat, wait!" Trowa gasped, sprawled breathless across the bed.  
  
Fuck you! is what Quatre wanted to say, but all that came out was a pathetic sob. Grabbing his jacket and a pair of sneakers, he stumbled out before he could embarrass himself more, praying Tro didn't follow.   
  
Half-blinded by tears, shoelaces whipping around his ankles, he somehow made it downstairs without breaking his neck and sprinted away down the sidewalk with no clue where he was headed. He thought he heard Trowa call after him, but that only made him run faster. Rounding a corner, he caught a glimpse of open ground ahead and ran for it.  
  
+  
  
'Running and hiding is my game!' Duo thought with a smirk, bolting through the park gates. 'Don't go straight to open ground if you don't want to be seen.'  
  
The little fucker was fast, though, he'd give him that. Even in untied shoes, Kat gave Duo a run for his money. Duo paced him as Quatre hit the footpath along the lake shore, letting him run off some of whatever it was that was eating him, waiting for Kat to stop on his own or get to a good spot.   
  
When the path took a turn through an open, grassy area by a stand of trees Duo put on a burst of speed and took Quatre down with a flying tackle. They tumbled across the wet grass and came to rest with Quatre face down in a puddle and Duo sitting on his back.  
  
"Get off me, you sorry fuck!" Quatre yelled, fighting like a wildcat. "Don't touch me!"   
  
Kat was a lot stronger than he looked, too. He managed to toss Duo off and turn over, then froze in mid snarl as the taller boy tackled him again, pinning his arms with his knees. "Duo? What the hell are you doing here?" He might have been crying. It was hard to tell after that splash down in the mud.  
  
Duo stood up and pulled Quatre to his feet. "What happened? I've never seen you like this."  
  
Quatre looked away, chin trembling unmistakably now. "You don't wanna know, believe me."  
  
"Yeah, I do. C'mon, buddy, spill!"   
  
Quatre shook his head and limped toward a nearby bench. Duo followed and sat down next to him, biding his time. Quatre rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. He was definitely crying now. Duo waited a moment more, then pulled him close and held him while he sobbed.   
  
They were both wet and muddy, but Kat had gotten the worst of it. Duo's long overcoat, soon destined for the drycleaners, had protected him from the shins up. Quatre's jeans were soaked and his chest was streaked with mud under his open jacket. Duo zipped the coat up under his chin and then pulled his own coat around him. Kat was just beginning to calm down a little when Duo suddenly heard a familiar metallic click from the direction of the trees, and felt that nasty crawly feeling he always got when someone was taking aim at him.   
  
"04, got a bogey at ten o'clock," Duo whispered against Quatre's hair. "Fall back on three. One. Two . . ."  
  
Quatre let go and Duo charged the trees. He caught the startled paparazzi before he could run and body slammed him into a tree.  
  
"Oi, sorry! Didn't see you there!" He gave the man a Shinigami grin. "Let's see if anything's broken." Duo pulled the camera from the gasping man's neck and patted him down, finding two film canisters. "Pity about these, huh?" he said with mock sympathy, then flung them, one after the other, camera and all, into the middle of the lake.   
  
The man snarled something at him in German and Duo shrugged. "Gotta be careful out here, man. Never know who'll run into you. Now piss the fuck off!"  
  
If the man didn't understand English, he certainly understood Duo's tone of voice and expression. Gathering himself up, he bolted for the path.  
  
Duo strolled back to the bench and sat down, putting his arm around Quatre again.   
  
"They know we're in Madrid, I guess," Quatre mumbled.  
  
"Had to happen sooner or later. So, suppose you tell me what I'll be beating the hell out of Trowa for? I'd like to know before the papers print the details."  
  
"Let it go, Duo. You don't want to know."  
  
"Uh huh. Right. Like you ever let me get away with that. I'm waiting, Winner. If he hit you, so help me--"  
  
"He didn't do anything!" Quatre snapped. "We were just, y'know--"  
  
"A little afternoon delight?" Duo relaxed a bit. He couldn't imagine Trowa hurting Kat, but if he had, dire consequences would have followed.   
  
Quatre blushed. "Yes, and he just, that is, I just--"  
  
"Uh oh. Someone scream out the wrong name?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"You peeked!"  
  
Quatre groaned. "He flashed it! You know how it is sometimes, and I didn't see it coming, and it was really vivid and--"  
  
"Look, Kat, everyone fantasizes a little now and then. It's no big deal."  
  
"This is, trust me."  
  
"So? Who?"  
  
"Let it go."  
  
"Oh shit, not me? You know there's nothing like that between Tro and me!"  
  
Quatre shook his head. "No, it wasn't you."  
  
"Good! OK, not me." Duo wracked his brain, wondering who could possibly have this kind of impact on Kat. He came up with one and wrinkled his nose. "Catherine? Eeeeeewwwwww! No wonder you're so weirded out!"  
  
"No!"   
  
"Wu-man?" Duo got up and started pacing.   
  
"No!"  
  
"Naw, that would just be funny. Not that weirdo doctor who trained Tro?" If he pushed enough, got outrageous enough, sooner or later Kat would cave.  
  
"No."  
  
"Une?"  
  
"Duo!"  
  
"Kushreneda?"  
  
"He's dead. Duo, will you--"  
  
"Throw me a bone, here, will ya? Someone I know?"  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
"Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"  
  
"Cut it out. I mean it!"  
  
"Wait, I got it! That hottie brother of Relena's? Zechs? Jeeze, Kat, Trowa hardly knows-- Hey, now that you mention it, though, there's a fantasy I wouldn't mind seeing myself! Hubba hubba!"  
  
"Dammit, Duo, it was Heero!"  
  
Duo sat down so hard his teeth clicked together. "Heero? My Heero?"  
  
Quatre nodded sadly.  
  
"But that's nuts! I mean, I know there was something, sorta, but-- That's totally nuts!"  
  
"Think so?" Quatre shot back bitterly. "Aren't you glad you asked? Still want the whole sad story?"  
  
Duo nodded numbly.  
  
"Wait, where is Heero?"  
  
"We saw you take off. I sent him up to wait with Tro."  
  
"You what? Oh, that's just fucking perfect!" Quatre got up and headed off. "I'll fill you in on the way back."  
  
+  
  
Heero stood up and stretched. Duo and Quatre had been gone longer than he'd expected, long enough for his butt to get sore sitting on the floor. Trowa was leaning on the window frame now, still silent, still hugging himself. Deciding that it would be marginally more interesting to look out the window, Heero walked over to join him. It was then that he saw Trowa was crying.   
  
Heero was shocked. Duo crying came as no surprise, and tears from Quatre were almost expected. No, this was like seeing Wufei cry, or himself. Some people were criers; others simply weren't. Something had to be very wrong for Trowa to cry, even silently like this.  
  
Heero had no idea what to do about it. In Trowa's place he wouldn't want any witnesses. But Duo had told him to stay with 03 and that probably was the best idea. Heero was left to depend on past experience, and what people had done for him when he was distraught. There weren't any handkerchiefs or tissue boxes in sight or he'd have offered Trowa one.   
  
At a loss, he placed a hand on Trowa's shoulder.   
  
That seemed to break Trowa's final reserves. He let out a tiny moan and threw his arms around Heero, pressing his face to his shoulder.   
  
Ah. Holding. Offering physical comfort. Heero could do this. He put his arms around Trowa and patted his back, feeling horribly awkward and uncomfortable. Trowa was taller, which made it that much more awkward. And he was bare from the waist up, which made Heero even more uncomfortable for reasons he didn't entirely understand. The only other person he'd touched like this was Duo, but the circumstances had been very different. Still, Trowa was a friend and he didn't want to let him down.   
  
Trowa didn't sob or become hysterical. He was quieter than Heero had been yesterday. Being new to all this, Heero was greatly relieved. This was probably good practice for normal human relations, he reasoned, and made a mental note under the heading: "offering comfort to a friend one is not romantically involved with."   
  
Then Trowa kissed him.   
  
On the lips.  
  
It was not a very good kiss, what with Trowa's lips being all wet and salty and Heero being too stunned to respond, but he was reasonably certain, even without back up research, that this was still more than a simple, friendly gesture between comrades, at least on Trowa's part.  
  
Trowa let go and pushed away from him. Heero could see enough of his friend's face under those long bangs to know that the kiss hadn't helped. Trowa looked unhappier than ever.  
  
"Sorry, Heero. I shouldn't have done that."  
  
Hn. This, and Trowa's guilty expression, seemed to support his supposition about the nature of the kiss. "Uh-- Why did you do that?"  
  
Trowa wiped his face on his arm and sat down on the bed. "Not sure."  
  
"I-uh, I had the impression yesterday that you were angry at me, possibly due to the way I handled Duo."  
  
"I'm not mad, Heero." Trowa had stopped crying. He just sounded very tired now.   
  
"Then I don't understand."  
  
"You want to explain it to him, Trowa, or would you rather I did?" Quatre stood in the open doorway. He was muddy and wet, sounded angry, and looked very upset. Heero had never seen 04 like that; it was as unnerving as seeing Trowa cry.   
  
At least Duo was with him. His cheeks were flushed and his braid was a mess, with loose wisps hanging damply around his face and over the shoulders of his muddy coat. He caught Heero's eye and crooked a finger at him behind Quatre's back in a "come here" motion.   
  
Heero started over, but Trowa looked up and said, "I'm sorry, Heero. I can't really explain it. I love Quatre more than my own life. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."  
  
Quatre looked like a murderous blond thundercloud. Heero was beginning to think maybe 04 was angry with him. Duo was still making that "come here" motion at him again and mouthing 'hurry the fuck up, Yuy!'  
  
Puzzled, Heero walked over. As soon as he reached the doorway Duo pulled him into the hall with one hand, shoved Quatre into the room with his other, slammed the door shut and jammed a couple of coins between the door and frame, effectively locking them in.  
  
The knob rattled frantically, then they heard Quatre shout, "Maxwell, you traitor! What the fuck?"  
  
Grinning, Duo leaned on the wall beside the door and called back, "Listen up! 03? 04? Fix this! That's an order. And don't even think about going out the window!" More thumping and swearing came through the door. Some of it sounded like Trowa now.  
  
Wufei came up the stairs with a bag of groceries. "What now? Damn it, they kept me up most of the night with their wailing and moaning!"  
  
"Lover's quarrel. Your watch, Wuffie. Don't go in unless you think they're really killing each other. Come on, Heero. Help me clean up."  
  
But as soon as Heero closed the door Duo pinned him against it, holding him by the front of his jacket as he leaned in and kissed him deeply, running his tongue all over Heero's mouth and lips.   
  
When he pulled back he was frowning. "Hmmm. Just as I suspected. Was he good?"  
  
Totally out of his depth, Heero shook his head.   
  
"Do you want him?"  
  
"Trowa? Of course not! What's going on? What did Quatre--"  
  
"Tro didn't tell you anything?"  
  
"No, we just waited, then-- I was just offering comfort, Duo, but he must have misread--"  
  
Duo cut him off with another kiss, a really nice one this time, complete with a grind of his pelvis against the front of Heero's jeans. Heero brought his hands up and buried his fingers in Duo's damp hair. They were both flushed and breathless when this one ended.  
  
"Are you mine, Heero?"  
  
Heero looked down into Duo's eyes, saw the mix of love and heat and worry and possessiveness there. It made his cock throb and his knees feel all weak and wobbly. "Yes!" He grabbed Duo and swung them both around so Duo was pinned against the door now, with Heero's thigh pressed between his legs and the hardness there. "And you are all mine, yes?"   
  
Duo clutched at Heero's back pockets to pull him closer. "Yeah!"  
  
Heero kissed him again as he slipped the overcoat off Duo's shoulders and pulled the tie from the end of his braid. "I want you!" he said against Duo's lips. "Now!"  
  
"Mmmmmm yeah! Need supplies."  
  
That's all Heero needed to hear. He released Duo and shucked out of his coat and shoes.   
  
Though it wasn't all he did hear. Shouting was coming from the next room now, apparently the first stage of Trowa and Quatre carrying out their assigned mission. They sounded very angry.  
  
"Is that about me?" he asked as Duo sauntered naked from the bathroom with what looked like a lot of condoms in one hand and the pink comb in the other.   
  
Duo rolled his eyes. "Jeeze Yuy, you got some ego on ya! 'Is that about me?' Get over yourself!" But he was grinning.   
  
Heero stared; this was the first time he'd seen his friend naked under optimum conditions. Neither of them were panicked or bleeding or angry or crazed. There were no enemy soldiers around, or bombs going off. They were in a hotel room, alone, with a clean bed and plenty of time and supplies, and Duo's grin, together with the way he was sashaying his hips (Heero hadn't even realized he knew that word until he saw it in action now)--well, inexperienced as he was, it all added up to a green light scenario. Duo was--to use his own word--hot! Slender without being thin, elegant but still masculine, and the sinuous grace of a cat. His smooth, nearly hairless skin was spacer pale, but not pasty. He seemed to gleam in the afternoon light, and shadows played in the lines of his muscles.   
  
'Hung, too!' Heero thought, shocked. But it was true. Duo had a great cock and it was already coming up to attention  
  
Duo stopped and struck a pose. "See something ya like, Yuy?"   
  
Heero's tongue seemed to have glued itself to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed hard and nodded.  
  
"Glad to hear it. You're overdressed, my friend." Duo tossed the condoms on the bed, pulled Heero's sweater and tee shirt off, and went to work on the jeans, stripping them down with Heero's underwear in one fell swoop.   
  
"Oh my!" Still half kneeling, Duo looked Heero over and licked his lips. "You have grown up, haven't you!"   
  
Suddenly Heero felt very self-conscious. He'd been sick and homeless for a long time and a few days of decent food and medical care weren't enough to change that over night. His ribs and hip bones still showed sharply, and his skin was very pale where it wasn't weathered dark by sun and wind. Blotches of half-healed rashes still showed here and there, too, but Duo didn't seem to notice any of that. He licked his lips again, staring at Heero's cock, currently at half-mast in front of him. That part of Heero, at least, seemed healthy and active. It occurred to Heero that he was pretty well hung, too. Not that it had ever been an issue before.  
  
"God, Heero!" Duo breathed, standing up and running his hands over Heero's face and shoulders. "I can't believe we're finally here like this!"   
  
He pushed Heero down on the bed and straddled him. His balls settled just below Heero's navel, making him swallow hard again. The unkempt braid slid down to lie across Heero's chest.   
  
Heero forgot about being skinny or pale or anything else. Sliding his hands up Duo's arms, he gazed up at the incredible being sitting on him. "Oh, Duo. I really want--"  
  
Just then more yelling erupted next door. Duo leaned over and pounded on the wall above the headboard. "Oi, keep it down in there. People are trying to make out here!"   
  
Heero captured the end of the braid and coaxed him back. "Is that what we're doing? Making out?"  
  
"For starters. We'll just take it nice and slow, let things develop naturally." Duo gave him a sexy leer. "Doctor's orders, right? Whadaya say we start with tried and true foreplay?"  
  
He jumped off and sat down with his back to Heero, holding the comb over his shoulder. Even his back was beautiful, long and lean like Trowa's, tapering down to a very firm round ass.  
  
Heero took the comb and went to work. His hands weren't as steady as usual, though. Kneeling behind Duo, it was impossible to handle the long heavy locks without them falling and sliding around his bare thighs and very prominent erection. Years of masturbatory fantasy caught up with him; Heero gathered a handful of that silk and fisted his cock with it, just to see if reality was as good as his imagination.   
  
It was better.  
  
Duo laughed. "Cum in my hair and you're a dead man, Yuy! C'mon, 01, more grooming, less jerking off!"  
  
"Are you always this demanding in bed, 02?"   
  
"You ain't seen nothin' yet, buddy boy. I got plans for you. Come on, that braid won't do itself."  
  
Heero tossed the comb aside. "I want your hair loose." It came out a demanding growl. Duo looked back over his shoulder and Heero saw that his face was flushed again, his narrowed eyes glowing. Duo liked that growl. Heero made a note.  
  
Pushing Duo down on his belly, Heero brushed the curtain of hair aside and held him by the back of the neck while he kissed his way from the nape of the neck to the cleft of his buttocks.   
  
Duo moaned loudly and grabbed the ironwork headboard with both hands. Heero nipped him lightly on both ass cheeks and Duo writhed. Heero released his neck and licked his way down the back of one leg, then swirled his tongue over the arch of Duo's foot. That resulted in a very loud "Ah yeah!" and more writhing. Heero repeated the process, licking down the other leg. The results matched.   
  
"Jesus, Heero, I thought you were the virgin here?"  
  
"Research."   
  
"All that time you spent at the computer? I never woulda guessed that was--ah! Oh!"  
  
Nipping his way back up to Duo's ass, Heero parted those long legs and lapped at the back of Duo's scrotum. This resulted in an ascending series of "ah ah ah's" and a loud, drawn out "Oh!"  
  
Quatre shouted next door. Part of it sounded like Heero's name. He paused, frowning. "Maybe we shouldn't do this right now?"  
  
Duo glared over his shoulder at him. "Don't you even think of stopping! Serves 'em right, the idiots!"   
  
"Ah, so this is to punish them?" Heero raised an eyebrow, then nipped Duo on the ass again, harder.   
  
Duo yelped and flipped over, revealing a very engorged erection. Scrambling up, he climbed into Heero's lap and kissed him hard. "This is a lot of things, but mostly me being very horny and possessive about the guy I love. They've been doing each other for years and I've had to listen to it. The day I finally get up the nerve to seduce you? They pick a fight next door!"  
  
"You were planning to seduce me?"  
  
"Since the minute I woke up this morning. Sure, we've had a few bumps along the way, but I'm ready if you are and--" He had his legs around Heero now, their genitals pressed together just the way Heero had so often dreamed, with no clothing in the way this time. He pulled some of the hair over Duo's shoulders so that it pooled in their laps, then kissed him again, rubbing his back and shoulders through more of that wonderful hair.  
  
Duo came out of that one laughing. "You've got a hair fetish, you perv!"  
  
"And whose fault is that?" Heero asked, deadpan. "So, what other things?"  
  
"Huh?" Duo's eye glazed as he wiggled against Heero.  
  
"You said this is a lot of things, this sex we're going to have. I just wondered what else? I like everything so far."  
  
"This is me loving you more than I can tell you with words." Duo kissed him again. "And being so fucking glad you're back!" Another kiss. "And this is me letting go of the past." He rubbed his cock against Heero's. "And this is me claiming Heero Yuy as my boyfriend and my lover and my best friend and the most humpable, sexy, worth-waiting-for Gundam boy in the world!" He kissed his way down to the curve of Heero's shoulder and did something with his mouth that hurt and tickled at the same time. "There, now you're really mine." He was grinning.   
  
Craning his neck, Heero could just make out a small, bruise like mark on his shoulder. He searched for the word. "A hickey? You gave me a hickey!"  
  
"I figured it was about time you had one. And I'm gonna give you some more where the sun don't shine, so brace yourself, lover."  
  
Heero caught and held him as Duo tried to climb off, then bit him on the neck.   
  
"Ow! Fuck, Heero, what the hell was that?"  
  
"A love bite?"  
  
"You don't actually bite! You suck."  
  
Heero revised his method on the other side of Duo's neck and got a giggle and more pelvis grinding. He liked that.  
  
Someone was pounding on Quatre's door from the inside again, and swearing loudly.   
  
"That's Trowa." Heero admired at the red mark he'd just made.  
  
"Mmmm. Sounds pissed. So, ya think he's a good kisser?"  
  
"Not in my experience. But I could collect more sample data."  
  
"Yeah, but then I'd have to go make out with Wuffie to even things out."  
  
"Then I'd have to find a new lover, because he would kill you for even trying."  
  
"True, so I guess you better just let that go and concentrate on me, huh?"  
  
"I can do that. I'm very focused and mission-oriented." Heero cupped Duo's buttocks in his hands and kneaded the firm flesh under his fingers.  
  
Duo arched back into the caress and let out a throaty laugh. "Are we gonna do it mission position?"   
  
"I'm not familiar with that term. Perhaps you mean missionary--"  
  
"Heero?" Duo looked deeply into his eyes.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Too much talking. Not enough nookie."  
  
"What nookie do you like, Duo? My research only takes me so far."  
  
"You need more hands-on experience." Duo unwrapped himself from Heero and found one of the condoms. Tearing the foil open with his teeth, he extracted the rubber and rolled it down over Heero's cock. It was a little cold and sort of slimy, but Heero forgot all about that as Duo followed his hand with his mouth, taking in Heero's length and sucking like he was going to give the whole thing a hickey. Heero had to brace himself with his arms to keep from falling over backwards as Duo's tongue swirled around his shaft and head, showing him every sensitive spot he'd never even known was there.   
  
'He's done this before,' Heero thought, but decided he didn't really care at the moment.  
  
The pounding next door had started up again, and now Quatre was yelling something about Duo and hairbrushes. Had Trowa brushed Duo's hair? This bothered him more than the idea of Duo giving some stranger a blowjob. Not enough to distract him, however. Duo was doing things with his mouth now that Heero couldn't even imagine. And--! Oh, and he was playing with Heero's balls now, rolling them in their sac and finding more amazingly sensitive places behind them, between Heero's legs, and then back and--!  
  
Heero arched back with a loud gasp as a slippery finger found his asshole and tickled its way inside. His research had suggested that this might be uncomfortable, at least at first. Those reports were no doubt based on data from men who hadn't had Heero Yuy's training, or his remarkable resistance to pain. This just felt really, really good. Toe curlingly good, he noted, catching sight of his feet. Sprawled back, legs wide with Duo sprawled between then, a finger up his ass and all that hair draped over his legs, with that tongue still doing its secret dance on his cock-- Heero was primed and ready for his very first direct contact Duo-driven orgasm. He could feel it gathering right behind his balls, the heat pounding at the base of his shaft, the muscles tightening.   
  
Their door banged open, framing a very irate Wufei. "Look here, Maxwell, either you baby-sit them or-- Oh fuck!" He froze, dark eyes widening in what looked like horror.   
  
"Out, please?" Heero managed hoarsely.  
  
Wufei retreated, closing the door firmly behind him.  
  
If Duo had noticed the intrusion, he never missed a beat. He twitched his finger just so, and it was as if he'd pulled the trigger of Heero's cock. Still braced on his arms, Heero lifted himself and Duo right off the bed as he came. He'd had orgasms on his own before, but this was so much better! It hit in waves, one after the other instead of a single spasm and they seemed to go on forever before he found himself lying on his back, looking up into very pleased violet eyes.   
  
"You yelled my name!" Duo kissed him deeply. His mouth tasted funny, like rubber. Heero blinked dazedly up at him. He didn't recall saying anything--there was sort of a blank in his memory, except for how good it had felt to come in Duo Maxwell's mouth. But he had no reason to doubt him and he'd never seen Duo look happier.   
  
"The very first time, and you said my name!" Duo exclaimed again. "How cool is that?"  
  
"Very cool?" Heero guessed, glowing happily.   
  
"Too fucking cool! Guess you really are mine now, huh?"  
  
"Affirmative."   
  
Duo kissed him again and snuggled down with his head on Heero's shoulder. "Mine mine mine mine mine, allllllllll mine!"  
  
Heero hugged him, too tired to do more. The condom he'd been wearing had disappeared, but he didn't recall Duo removing it. "I didn't make you come."  
  
"No problem!" Duo tickled Heero's left nipple with a strand of his hair. "You're still wiped out from being sick. We've got all afternoon, right? Besides, that makes us even."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, nothing. Forget it."  
  
Heero found a handful of Duo's hair and gave it a gentle tug. "What do you mean, we're even?"  
  
Duo sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up that night. Y'know? You made me come like--Man, it was like--" He gestured dramatically. "WOW! Rockets. Stars. Fireworks! You totally blew me away, just rubbing up against me. Even with everything else, I never forgot that! And I felt guilty forever, not reciprocating."  
  
"Consider us totally even. For now, that is. I really want to-Damn it, what are they doing now!"  
  
A rhythmic thumping was coming from the next room, but softer than most of what they'd heard so far, and steady. The sound of a headboard hitting a wall, Heero realized. Now he made out the soft moans accompanying it. "Hn. They've made up."  
  
"Not necessarily. They're very passionate guys. They could just be taking a break and working off some steam."   
  
The thumping increased, and now they could hear Quatre quite distinctly, moaning Trowa's name.   
  
"He sounds like a tomcat in heat when he does that," Duo sighed. "You have no idea how many times I've had to listen to that. And they can keep at it for _hours_ , I swear to god!"  
  
"It's important, this saying of names?" Heero asked, thinking that keeping at it for hours sounded good.   
  
"It's nice. You just gotta be sure you get it right."   
  
"This has something to do with their fight?"  
  
"Tro didn't tell you?"  
  
"No. Like I said, he was silent, then he cried, then he kissed me."  
  
"Trowa has a thing for you. Has for ages, I guess. Quatre was the only one who hadn't figured that one out."  
  
"But he loves Quatre! They're in there right now--"  
  
"Fucking their brains out? Yeah, I know. He loves Quatre like crazy. Quatre knows that. You know it. I know it. Total strangers passing them on the street can see it. But he's still got a thing for you."  
  
"A thing. And that's different than love?"  
  
"Well, different than what he feels for Kat, or what I feel for you, anyway."  
  
"Or me for you." Heero pulled Duo close again. "I love you. I don't want to hurt Trowa, but he has to understand that I'm yours."  
  
"I think you made that real clear a minute ago, thin as these walls are. If not, maybe Wuffie can fill him in on the details, eh?" They could hear Trowa now, panting out Quatre's name over and over again. Duo shook with laughter against Heero's chest. "Sounds like Kat's making him practice out loud!"   
  
"Ah. Trowa said my name to Quatre during sex."  
  
"Sort of. Apparently Kat accidentally looked into Tro's head while they were getting it on and there you were!"  
  
"That was very upsetting for Quatre."  
  
"Oh yeah!"  
  
"Hn. What can we do about this?"  
  
"I dunno. Right now, I'd be more interested in what you plan to do about this?" Duo took Heero's hand and slid it down to his erection. "Rested up yet?"  
  
"Yes." Trowa was moaning louder now, and mixing a lot of what sounded like foreign words in with Quatre's name. Heero grinned. It as actually rather sexy, hearing the others like that. "Perhaps we could give them some competition?"   
  
Duo rolled onto his back and grabbed the headboard again. "I like the way you think, lover!"  
  
"One thing, though." Heero kissed his way up Duo's thigh, then reached for a new condom. "Don't say my name unless you mean it. I want for it to mean what it meant to you when I said yours."  
  
"Don't worry. I never fake it. Can I ask just one teensy little favor before you get started, though?"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Duo gave him a sexy leer, but Heero caught a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "You really want to hear me sing your name?"  
  
Heero laughed. "Yes! What is it?"  
  
Duo reached over the side of the bed and snagged his duffle. Rummaging around, he came out with a long black silk scarf. "Tie my hands to the headboard?"  
  
Heero took the scarf, and studied the iron railings of the headboard, calculating the best method of carrying out his lover's request.   
  
"This is one of your 'kinks'?" he asked, recalling an earlier conversation.  
  
"Says the man with the hair fetish!" Duo shot back, blushing.  
  
"Only for your hair." Heero carefully moved the hair in question out of the way and secured Duo's wrists to the headboard. Duo was an talented escape artist, but Heero knew that, and he was an expert knot tier. "Don't pull at the scarf," he warned when he'd finished, leaning over Duo to lick his nipples. "It will only tighten up and cut off your circulation."  
  
"Oh, take me now, you sweet talker!" Duo exclaimed, obviously aroused and delighted.  
  
"What would you like me to do?"  
  
"Whatever feels right, baby!"  
  
Baby. Ordinarily Heero would object to such a nickname, but the way Duo said it all deep and low in his throat made it sound like a really good thing to be Duo Maxwell's baby.   
  
But that left what to do. Heero wasn't ready to fuck Duo, not the way Trowa was fucking Quatre at the moment--or perhaps the other way around? It was hard to tell from the sounds. They were gasping out each other's names now.   
  
Heero decided to do what Duo had just done to him. He put a condom on Duo and tried to duplicate all the things that Duo had done with his lips and tongue. He couldn't remember the exact order, so he settled for exploring on his own and using the sounds Duo made as a guide.  
  
That was easy. Duo was extremely vocal under any circumstance, and sex was no exception. Heero would have been hard pressed to find something to do that would not have resulted in a moan or gasp. Duo seemed to like whatever he did. Encouraged, Heero went freeform, expanding his attentions to Duo's belly, balls and inner thighs.   
  
Duo went wild under him. "Oh yeah, Heero! More like that--Ah, yeah! Right there. Oooooooooh don't stop!"  
  
Heero happily continued. Replacing his mouth with his right fist, he stroked Duo's cock and pinched his nipples with the other, then followed with his tongue and teeth.   
  
"Oh, god!" Duo grasped the iron uprights to keep from pulling on the scarf as he arched and bucked. "Suck me again, Heero. Right down to the root! Ah! Ahhhhhhhhhhhgh, yeah. Oh, do me!"  
  
Heero took Duo in his mouth again and worked it. He decided that aside from the taste of the latex and lubricant, he liked doing this, at least with Duo. He had nothing to directly compare with his friend's cock, but found it pleasantly proportioned. He could get most of the length in his mouth without triggering his gag reflex. He particularly enjoyed Duo's response.  
  
Duo's conversation had devolved to needy moans and whimpers. He still hadn't come, or yelled Heero's name. He'd said it, but Heero wasn't counting that, as the context had been more conversational in nature. Next door, the bed was banging on the wall again. Not to be outdone, Heero slicked his middle finger with spit and set out to explore Duo's ass.   
  
Duo tensed briefly, then spread his legs and groaned out, "Yeah, do that, just like I did you. Yeah, baby, be gentle, but go deeeeeeeeep!"   
  
Heero was careful, fearful of hurting him. Duo's little opening was very tight, and Heero's fingers were not small. He added more spit and worked one finger in with a series of gentle pushes.  
  
"Yeah, that's good," Duo purred, lying very still now. "Let's go for two, huh?"  
  
Heero licked his ring finger and gently worked that in, feeling the muscles slowly loosen. Duo was very smooth inside, and very hot. He had a sudden flash of what it might feel like to have his cock in there, instead of his fingers and felt himself go hard again. All that tight heat! This is what Duo had saved for him, and only him. Heero wondered if he could come again, just from pleasuring Duo and fantasizing.   
  
"Oh baby! Ooooooh, so gooooooood!" Duo moaned, caught helplessly between Heero's fingers and mouth. With his hands tied like that he was left spread and totally vulnerable. Heero's cock throbbed again at the thought of his Shinigami surrendering himself like this. The sense of being in such total, loving, erotic control of this beautiful, deadly creature made Heero a little dizzy. The slightest movement of his fingers or tongue made Duo gasp and writhe and beg for more. Heero wanted more, too. He wanted to see Duo come.  
  
Still sucking, he turned his hand slightly, recalling something from his research. The prostate gland was supposed to be very sensitive in some men. He moved his fingers, trying to recall the details. A small, pea sized bump, which could be felt through the rectal wall approximately how many centimeters in . . .?  
  
Duo spasmed under him. "Oh baby! Ugh! Yeah!" Heero moved his fingers again over that slight protrusion and Duo bucked harder with something like a sob. "Oh yeah, Heero! Right-ah! AH! Baby, ahhhhhhhhh!"   
  
Heero had read about teasing. He went still to let Duo come down a little, using the sound of his ragged breathing and breathy, incoherent muttering to gauge his response.   
  
"Heero!" Duo gasped, going very still.   
  
Heero raised his mouth from Duo's erection. "Yes?"  
  
"Heero?" He was sounding a little desperate now.  
  
"What is it, 02? Do you need something?"   
  
Duo rolled his hips, trying to work himself on the three fingers that were now stretching him. "Heero! Need-you! Don' be mean,'ro-need-please, baby-need-oh need-you-oh need-so bad! Pleeeeeese!"  
  
Satisfied, Heero coordinated his next move so that his fingers stroked Duo's prostate at the same moment the head of Duo's cock hit the back of his throat.   
  
Duo let out a ragged scream and arched up into his mouth, hips pumping, hands slamming the headboard against the wall with every thrusting spasm. "HEEEEEEROOOO! Heero! _My_ Heero! Ah! Yeah! Ah!"   
  
Heero grinned around a mouthful of latex sheathed hard-on. Those counted. All three of them. And Duo was still thrusting against Heero's fingers, still moaning and shaking the headboard. Heero waited until he had exhausted himself, then removed his fingers from Duo's ass and gentled his sucking, knowing how sensitive a cock was right after orgasm. He tapered off slowly, then kissed his way up Duo's belly and chest to claim his mouth.   
  
Duo was breathing hard, but still managed a grin and a muttered "Ick, condom breath!"  
  
"You're welcome," Heero chuckled, working the knotted scarf free and releasing his hands.   
  
Duo expertly removed and tied off the condom, made a 'nothing but net' shot into the dented trashcan, then nestled down beside Heero. "Gone quiet over there. Guess we showed them, huh?"   
  
Heero pulled the covers over them and pulled Duo into his arms with his head on his chest. Heat and pleasure radiated from that supple body like sunshine. "Maybe they've made up."  
  
"Hope so. Be a real pain if we had to do this for them every day, huh?"  
  
"Well, they are very good friends."  
  
Duo chuckled, a wonderful, sleepy sound. "Again with the jokes! Who are you and what have you done with my Heero?"  
  
"Am I your Heero?"  
  
"Mine. All mine. And I'm your Duo. Nobody else's. Not ever. Just try to get rid of me, Yuy. I stick like cum, er, gum on the bottom of your--"  
  
Heero kissed him to silence. "Mine," he murmured, stroking Duo's shoulder as he fell asleep. "All mine."


	18. Bug Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero woke to the sound of a phone ringing. He didn't have a phone.   
  
Opening one eye, he looked around groggily. Oh yes. He was in bed with Duo at the hostel and judging by the darkening sky outside the window, it appeared to be fast approaching evening now. He felt amazingly good, despite the persistent ringing. He didn't remember ever feeling so relaxed as he did lying here naked with Duo Maxwell snuggled up against him. Duo's hair was loose across the pillow and Heero's chest. And face. And mouth. And nose.   
  
'We had sex, or at least mutal and advanced foreplay,' Heero thought contentedly. 'We are lovers.'  
  
He worked an arm free and brushed the hair away from his face, then looked around for the phone still so persistently ringing. A small, green glow pulsing in time to the sound showed where Duo's cell had ended up on the littered desk.   
  
"Don' answer," Duo mumbled, hugging Heero and nuzzling his neck. "Nice here. More nookie!"  
  
"It could be important." But before Heero could untangle himself the ringing stopped.   
  
A moment later they heard Trowa or Quatre's phone next door. It stopped after two rings, and then someone knocked on the wall above their heads.   
  
"Wake up and let us out," Quatre called. "We've got trouble."  
  
"What kind of trouble?" Heero demanded, pushing Duo off and rolling out of bed.  
  
"Look outside!"   
  
  
+  
  
_Transcript, Global Public Radio:_  
  
_Alan Steuben: We now join our GPR associate, Lauren Morales, live from Madrid._  
  
_LM: Hello, Alan. It's 7:25 pm local time. My engineer and I are standing on top of a van here in a narrow street outside Saint Francis Hospital. The term "media circus" does not begin to describe the scene here. There are at least twenty other news agencies on site, as well as hundreds of curious onlookers crowding the street and the roofs of surrounding buildings, all responding to reports that former Gundam pilot Heero Yuy, believed dead these past six months, is in fact alive and being treated at this hospital. The Madrid police are here in force, and have cordoned off the entrance to the hospital, as well as the area in front of a guest hostel across the street, said to belong to the hospital._  
  
_Rumors have been circulating for the past several days that the other four former pilots, better known now as "the Gundam Boys", have been sighted in this city. That always attracts some attention, but the lid really blew off this afternoon when CNN broadcast photos taken by local paparazzi, showing two young men identified as Duo Maxwell and the man believed to be Heero Yuy, walking together on a Madrid side street, and dining in a local restaurant. Since then it's come to light that these two men, and possibly the other three former pilots, have been staying at this hostel. We are trying to contact hospital officials now, to ascertain what their connection to the hospital might be._  
  
_Hold on. Something's happening. Alan. The crowd has turned their attention to the guest hostel, where two men have emerged from the main doors, just behind the police barricades. We're right next to them, Alan, a lucky break . . . Yes, I can verify that Duo Maxwell and Trowa Barton-Winner have come out and are trying to address the crowd. Sid, can you focus our parabolic mike? Alan, Maxwell is wearing a long overcoat that appears to be covered in dried mud, over jeans and boots. Barton-Winner has on dark slacks and a dark sweater and appears to have a bruise on his right cheek. He looks taciturn, as usual, but Maxwell is smiling and waving to the crowd. They are motioning for silence. As you can hear, it's still pandemonium here. I must say, Maxwell looks better than he has in some time. This young man, like his compatriots, has been plagued with mental and emotional problems, the sad fallout of the sacrifices these boys made for the peace when they were little more than children. Yet I have to say, he looks positively aglow right now! The crowd is quieting . . . Alan, the parabolic is in place._  
  
_Duo Maxwell: So, I guess you've heard the good news. Heero Yuy is alive!_  
  
_**Microphone overload**_  
  
_Maxwell: Yeah, so if you'll just calm down, I'll fill you in on the details, then Heero will come out and take a few questions. But I want to say, for the record, that he did not fake his death. He had a nervous breakdown and tried to commit suicide, but lucky for us, it didn't work. But he was pretty messed up for a while. He's been getting treatment here since Sunday night and is doing really well. He's still not 100 percent, though, so go easy on him, OK? He can't talk long. I just want to say, on behalf of Heero and all of us who care about him, that he still has a long way to go to full recovery and he's going to need privacy for that. So we'll talk to you, but that's probably going to be it for a while. And just so you know, Captain Chang is lurking around here somewhere, so you'd better watch your step!_  
  
_**Laughter from crowd.**_  
  
_Maxwell: That goes for the rest of us, too. I'm not kidding._  
  
_From the crowd: Is that a threat, Duo?_  
  
_Maxwell: Let's just call it friendly advice. Some of you haven't been too nice to us the past couple years. Right now, our top priority is helping Heero get back on his feet and we mean to see that he has the time and space to do that. I think everyone here owes him that, don't you?_  
  
_**Applause**_  
  
_From the crowd: Trowa, what happened to your face? Does it have anything to do with Heero's return?_  
  
_LM/GPR: Alan, Barton-Winner is ignoring the question. There's movement behind the glass doors of the hostel . . . Yes, his partner, Quatre Winner-Barton, is coming out with another man . . . My god, Alan, it is Heero Yuy! Dressed in jeans and a black leather jacket, he's very thin, clearly he's been very ill, but it certainly does appear to be him. Same dark, ragged haircut, same piercing blue eyes and that scowl. He does not look pleased at this attention. He was always known as very private and uncommunicative. Police have allowed a few microphones to be set up. A PA system is in place and Yuy is approaching. The three other pilots are forming up just behind him. There is no sign of Wufei Chang, as yet._  
  
_Heero Yuy: Hello._  
  
_**Applause, cacophony of questions and cheering**_  
  
_Yuy: I cannot speak if you don't quiet down._  
  
_LM/GPR: Alan, Maxwell is coming forward, leaning into the mike._  
  
_**Ear splitting whistle overloads mike**_  
  
_Maxwell: Oi, you heard the man. Shut up so he can talk!_  
  
_Yuy: Thank you, 02. As my friend said, I have been very sick. I don't recall a lot of the past two years, and even less of the last six months. I was in what my doctor has called a fugue state. He cannot fully explain as yet what caused it, except that it was probably triggered by the combination of my illness and a probable suicide attempt made in Kyoto. I have no memory of that and do not like to speculate on the details at this time. Five days ago I regained mental clarity and found myself in this city. I went to the Sanque Embassy, contacted Relena Peacecraft, who arranged for medical treatment here. I asked her at that time not to inform the press, as I did not feel up to-- Well, all this. I still don't, but there seems to be no escaping you._  
  
_**Laughter**_  
  
_LM/GPR: Alan, I don't think Yuy intended that as a joke. He and the others aren't laughing._  
  
_Yuy: I also contacted Duo Maxwell at that time, reporting my status and whereabouts. He and the others arrived shortly thereafter and have been supporting my recovery. That is really all I can tell you, but if you have questions, I will try to answer them._  
  
_**Mike overload**_  
  
_Maxwell: One at a time! One at a fucking time or we go back inside! You, CNN guy._  
  
_Roberts/CNN: Ossian Roberts, with CNN. Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. Captain Yuy, are you saying you have no memory whatsoever of the past six months? Nothing?_  
  
_Yuy: I did not say that, only that I recall very little._  
  
_Roberts/CNN: Could you expand on that a bit?_  
  
_Yuy: I was homeless. At times I was very cold. I was hungry. I was physically ill. I was very dirty. That is the current extent of my recollection._  
  
_Maxwell: Next question. Lady in the red ski hat._  
  
_Soledad/MT: Gracias. Maria Soledad, Madrid Times. Capitan Yuy, how did you survive?_  
  
_Yuy: There is no need to address me by rank. I have resigned my commission. To answer your question, I was trained to survive in a variety of conditions. No doubt conditioning took over, even when I was not coherent. The fact that I am standing here would bear that out._  
  
_Maxwell: You, pretty lady up on the van._  
  
_LM/GPR: Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. Lauren Morales, GPR news. Did you, or any of his friends, have any idea that Mr. Yuy was still alive during those six months?_  
  
_Maxwell: No. And I can tell you, it was the worst six months of my life! I still can't quite believe it!_  
  
_LN/GPR: Thank you. I'm sure I speak for everyone at Global Public Radio in saying that we are very happy for you all!_  
  
_Maxwell: Thanks!_  
  
_LM/GPR: Alan, Maxwell has his arm around Heero Yuy now, a very touching sight. I believe Yuy may be smiling._  
  
_Maxwell: Guy in the brown jacket. No, not you, asshole! The guy . . ._  
  
_LM/GPR: Alan, a man in a black leather jacket is forcing his way to the front._  
  
_HM/BW: Mr. Yuy, Hans Meir, Berlin Weltbeobachter_  
  
_Maxwell: I wasn't talking to you!_  
  
_HM/BW: Mr. Yuy, what say you to reports that over the past two years you have sometimes supported yourself as a common street prostitute?_  
  
_Maxwell: You son of a bitch! This is about this afternoon, isn't it?_  
  
_LM/GPR: Alan, Maxwell attempted to reach the German reporter and is being restrained by his friends. As you can probably hear, he is extremely upset by Meir's remarks. . .Sid, damp that, will you? While Maxwell is well known for his temper and colorful language, one can hardly blame him under these circumstances. As a side note, the Berlin Weltbeobachter is a notorious tabloid, and Meir is their lead Eurpoean reporter. It was Meir who broke the OZ Academy sex scandal five years ago, and more recently . . . He is fighting his way to the front again!_  
  
_HM/BW: Isn't it also true Yuy is being treated for numerous venereal diseases, contracted while turning these back alley tricks? My source informs me . . ._  
  
_LM/GPR: Alan, chaos is breaking loose here! Someone has grabbed Meir from behind. I can't quite make out . . . . Now Maxwell has launched himself over the police barricade and is attempting to reach Meir. Barton-Winner is going after him-- No, he's helping him . . . Is that--? Yes! I have visual confirmation that Wufei Chang has appeared in the crowd and has Meir by the neck. I can't make out what Captain Chang is saying, but he is clearly very angry, Alan! Yet throughout all this, Yuy himself has remained at the microphone with Winner-Barton, apparently unmoved. The police have reached the other Gundam boys and are urging them back behind the barrier. Maxwell is resisting strenuously, and being lifted forcefully back over . . . Yuy has him by the arm now, and is saying something to him. All five pilots are now retreating into the hostel doorway and . . . Maxwell has broken away again! He seems intent on attacking Meir! Several police officers have him by the arms now! And Yuy is running forward. Alan, he has grabbed Duo Maxwell by that famous braid and literally hauled him back inside the barriers. Now he has him by the collar and all five pilots are retreating inside the hostel. The police are closing ranks. Given the size of the crowd, the Gundam boys could be virtual prisoners in the hostel, unless the authorities intervene._  
  
_Alan, someone else has attacked Meir! I'm not certain who; they appear young, spectators, I think, rather than press, and the police are wading in again to protect Meir. Yuy has become something of an icon to young people everywhere, a truly heroic figure. To have that image sullied, especially at such an emotional moment . . . Meir is safe, and now being escorted away to a police car. More officers are breaking up what appears to be the beginning of a riot. The crowd is surging around the van where I'm standing, jostling and . . ._  
  
_**radio contact lost. Transmission terminated.**_  
  
+  
  
Years of practice served them well. Most of Heero's gear was still at the hospital; the other four had traveled light and were ready to bug out in minutes. Wufei had packed earlier.  
  
"I was on my way back to tell you I was leaving when I spotted the press," he told Duo, watching him stuff things into his duffle. "Why didn't you answer your phone, Maxwell?"  
  
"Asleep," Duo muttered, stomping into the bathroom.  
  
Heero stood beside the window, keeping a cautious eye on the crowd situation. He didn't much care for the attention, or the police escort waiting outside in the corridor.   
  
Trowa and Quatre came in with their bags, and sat down on the unmade bed. After a moment Quatre muttered something to Trowa. Getting up, they stripped back the blankets and took off the sheets. Quatre glanced into the trashcan, gave Heero a blushing, apologetic look, then emptied the contents into the middle of the sheets.   
  
'Condoms,' Heero thought, realizing what they were up to.   
  
Tying the whole bundle up, Quatre tossed it to Duo on his way back across the room. He shoved it into his duffle. Quatre glanced at Heero again, still looking embarrassed. "We did our room, too."  
  
Heero nodded. They had enough trouble with the tabloids as it was. No doubt their rooms would be closely scrutinized as soon as they were gone.   
  
Trowa sat down on the mattress and rested his chin in his hands.   
  
"What did happen to your face?" Heero asked quietly. He had what looked like a fist-sized bruise on his cheekbone.  
  
Trowa shook his head slightly. "Tactical error."  
  
Quatre sat down and put an arm around Trowa. "He banged his face on my knee. It wasn't--Well, you heard everything, right? It wasn't during the fighting part."  
  
"Hn." That was as much information as Heero required. "Have you two made up?"  
  
Quatre sighed. "Yeah, I guess. But we need to talk about this some more. Now's not the time."  
  
Heero wasn't certain what there was that needed talking about, but agreed whole-heartedly on the timing.  
  
The hostel had no convenient alternate exit and the roof was already thronged with reporters. There was no choice but to make the dash across to the hospital under police escort. The reporters were ready for them.   
  
"Let us go first," the head of their police escort said as they went downstairs and approached the street entrance. She sent a few men out to clear the way.   
  
"Shit!" Duo growled, looking out through the glass doors. "Looks like a damn camera firing squad out there."  
  
"We have done nothing wrong," Wufei growled. "Since this will be broadcast to the four corners of the colonies, we should maintain our dignity. I suggest we ignore any questions they ask."  
  
"I intend to," said Heero. "And I agree about making a dignified showing. Duo, I want your word; no more theatrics, no matter what's said."  
  
"Fine. Whatever," Duo muttered, shrugging deeper into his coat.   
  
Heero put an arm around him, speaking close to his ear. "I hope you are not angry at me about what that man said. Even if it's true, I don't remember."  
  
"It's not true!" Duo hissed. "I wouldn't care anyway. I just can't stand some lowlife scum saying it to your face, right there in front of everyone like that."  
  
Heero shook him gently. "I was surprised, too. But mostly I'm happy to be with you, and you are happy to be with me again. Let them broadcast that image to the four corners of the colonies."  
  
This earned him a grin. "Want me to smooch ya one, once we get out there?"  
  
"If you do, we'll never get free of them," Trowa warned.  
  
Heero smiled. "Trowa's right. When I'm stronger, you may smooch me in front of reporters all you like, but right now I'd like to concentrate on getting out of here."  
  
"You got it, 01."  
  
Police armed with riot shields had formed a corridor through the crowd, and held back the reporters and well-wishers long enough for the five of them to cross the street to the hospital. More police were stationed inside the lobby, keeping out the curious.   
  
The five of them crowded into the elevator and made their way up to Dr. Santos' office on the seventh floor. They found her there with Dr. Batoosingh and a number of nurses and hospital officials.  
  
Santos' usual motherly demeanor was gone, replaced by barely contained rage as she berated the officials in rapid-fire Spanish.  
  
"Heero, you have our deepest apologies!" Dr. Batoosingh exclaimed, ushering them into a similar office across the hall and closing the door. "We do not yet know who leaked your personal information, but I have been assured that they will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law."  
  
Heero stared at him a moment. "Then it is true, what that German reporter said? I saw my chart, and the medications-- Penicillin K? But I assumed it was simply for a generalized infection of some sort."  
  
"We asked him not to say anything to you, Heero. Trowa and me," Duo told him. "We figured it wouldn't make any difference to wait until we were sure you were feeling better."  
  
"Then it is true?" Heero sank down in one of the armchairs in front of the desk. "I have a venereal disease? But we--" He looked up at Duo in alarm.  
  
"Had, Heero. Past tense. The stuff they gave you is the latest thing. It works really fast," Duo said quickly.   
  
Wufei shook his head. "I will be outside on guard if you need me."  
  
"Good idea," Quatre said, tugging Trowa by the arm. "We'll be right out there."  
  
Duo waited until they were gone. "Tell him, Doc. Coupla doses and you're 80 percent clean overnight, right? You got a few more days to go on the full course, Heero, but Dr. Santos said your blood work looked good two days ago." He glanced nervously at Dr. Batoosingh and gave Heero a meaningful look. "Besides--y'know? Nothing to worry about, buddy."  
  
But Batoosingh was not fooled. "Oh, Duo. Please tell me you didn't already initiate sexual activity! We did speak of this."  
  
"It was by mutual consent and we practiced safe sex," Heero informed him tersely. "Duo, if I had known there was the slightest chance of infection for you--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Duo waved it away, still looking suitably guilty. "Heat of the moment and all that, right? I'll get checked, if it'll make you feel better, but believe me, there's no danger."  
  
"What is it? What did I have?" Heero demanded.  
  
"Syphilis."  
  
"Syphilis! Then I was sexually active during my fugue state. What that reporter said out there? It could be true! Doctor, I assume that something turned up in my initial exam the night I was admitted? As I recall, the admitting physician was extremely--" Heero shuddered a bit. He hated doctors and exams under even optimal conditions; he'd been upset and disoriented and drugged that night, making the whole experience nightmarish. "They did an extensive exam. I assume something was found at that time?"  
  
"I'm afraid so, Heero. There were a few small, already partially healed chancres in your rectum and throat. There was no evidence of tearing or trauma, but given your body's remarkable healing ability, it is difficult to say with any certainty what might have happened."  
  
"Rectum and throat?" Heero rested his face in his hands, breathing deeply and fighting down a sudden rush of panic. This meant he had let someone that close to him, allowed them to do such things to him. Or had been too out of control of himself to prevent it. Strangers! "Oh god!"  
  
He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Heero, you were sick, out of your head."  
  
"Go wash your hands, Duo."  
  
"I took a shower, remember?"  
  
"Now, 02! That's an order!" Looking up, his own voice ringing in his ears, he saw that both Duo and the doctor had retreated to a safe distance. "Please, Duo," he said again, trying not to bark out the words this time. "Use disinfectant."  
  
Duo swallowed, then hurried out.   
  
"Heero--" Batoosingh began.  
  
"We engaged in oral sex while wearing condoms, but also in anal stimulation without the use of gloves."  
  
"That's not what I was going to ask you."  
  
"Is he in danger?"  
  
"I'm sure he's not. The antibiotic you are taking renders early stage patients disease-free in two days. The rest is simply a precaution. Duo knew that. In his own peculiar way, he's always been quite careful about such things."  
  
That didn't make Heero feel any better. "He was wrong not to tell me. I should have had that information before we decided to become--more intimate. He should have told me!"  
  
"I agree." Heero didn't have to look up to know that Batoosingh was as angry at Duo right now as he was. "For what it's worth, I believe he acted out of the best of intentions. He loves you a great deal and no doubt considered intimacy of that sort almost medicinal. He's used it himself as a form of self-medication."  
  
"He's been intimate with Trowa and Quatre. And with strangers."   
  
"This troubles you."  
  
"Yes!" Heero clamped his hands together so tightly the knuckles cracked. "Rationally, I understand some of his reasoning, certainly in seeking out comfort from our friends. But the other? The seeking out of physical abuse, and having casual sex with men who mean nothing to him. Fucking them? Yes, I have a problem with that! But mostly I feel badly, that he would initiate sex with me while holding back information like this."  
  
The door opened and Duo slipped in. One look at his face told Heero that he'd been listening outside the door. He closed it and stood with his back pressed against it.  
  
"I should have told you, OK?" he admitted, close to tears. "I was going to, before we did anything, but I was waiting for the right moment. And then all that shit happened with Trowa and Kat and he kissed you and I got all jealous and-- Shit, Heero, you were really into it, too! I just got carried away."  
  
"And you thought if you told me, I would make you stop."  
  
Duo wiped at his eyes, then looked up defiantly. "Thought? Hell, I knew you would. But I knew it was safe! And I knew if I told you that much, then all the rest of the questions would come out and you'd feel like this and I didn't' think I could deal with that the right way. Not then. Damn it, Heero, I needed you, and you needed me just as bad! And if it wasn't for that shithead out there, I could have broken it to you the right way, now, with the doc here to help pick up the pieces."  
  
"It was manipulative, Duo."  
  
"Maybe, I guess. I didn't mean to be. I just didn't want you to not let me-"  
  
"What? Pay me back for that night in the silo?"  
  
"No! Not like that!" Duo strode over and knelt in front of him, prying Heero's hands apart to hold them. Heero smelled disinfectant on his skin, and saw the lingering orange stain of betadine soap. "I wanted to be close to you and make you feel good. I needed to do that with you, for both of us. Tell me it didn't feel right, Heero. Look me straight in the eye and tell me that!"  
  
Heero looked into those wide violet eyes and knew he couldn't say that. It would be a lie. "You took away my control."  
  
"No! I just avoided an unnecessary fight that would have spoiled everything for no good reason! You wanted me. You said so. If you'd changed your mind anywhere along the way, I'd have stopped! You gotta believe that! I would have, because I love you and would never force you into something you weren't ready for."   
  
"Your intentions may have been good, Duo, but you acted unwisely," Batoosingh said. "You should have allowed Heero to come to terms with the fact that he may have been coerced into sex while he was ill."  
  
"Yeah, and what if he decided he never wanted to have sex again, huh?" Duo demanded, still clutching Heero's hands. "Do you have any idea how difficult it would be to change his mind if he got that and the night in the silo and all that shit mixed up in his head, and maybe decided I wouldn't want him? Or that he shouldn't want me? He pulled that on me once and wouldn't listen. And how many fucking years did it take to get around that? Not to mention the six months I thought he was dead, for fuck's sake!"  
  
His voice broke and he rested his forehead on their clasped hands. "Jesus, Heero. I didn't want to lose you again before I'd shown you it could be OK with us. Better than OK! You're the only one I ever wanted and I couldn't face losing you again without you at least knowing . . ."   
  
Heero felt hot tears against the backs of his hands, and felt Duo's body shaking with silent sobs against his legs. Some part of him wanted to stay angry, but maybe he was still too new to all this feeling and emotion; logic was already kicking in, analyzing this new information, feeding it into his internal database.   
  
"You thought I might disappear again."  
  
Duo nodded.  
  
"And you took action based in part on a desire to protect me."   
  
"In part," Duo mumbled against Hero's hands. "I'm not saying I'm not a selfish prick who was trying to hang onto you no matter what, but look what happened to you before!" He raised his tear-stained face and looked imploringly up at Heero. "What if you took off and got sick again? What if you decided to kill yourself and got it right this time? How the hell would I know? How could I find you? Fuck that, Heero! You did it to me once and I know how good you are at staying lost when you want to. No way! No fucking way was I going to risk that! For either of us!"  
  
Heero thought of that letter Duo had written him when he thought he was dead, so full of pain and longing and frustration. "And if the German reporter does have proof of what he said? That I was a prostitute on the streets?"  
  
"You're asking Duo Maxwell, Gundam Boy Slut Wonder, to pass judgment on that? First of all, I don't believe him. He's just some paparazzi I pissed off, taking a cheap shot at you with some stolen info. And if it is? Jesus, Heero, take a good look at yourself. If that's what it took for you not to starve to death, who am I to say? I grew up on the mean streets, remember? I know how bad things can get, what people can be driven to. But what I really think is that you were too spaced off your ass to know what you were doing, or what was done to you. Think hard, Heero. Do you remember selling yourself?"  
  
"No, I don't even remember having sex with anyone."  
  
"Such memories may emerge later," Batoosingh said softly.   
  
"Fine. We'll deal with them then. Together!" said Duo. "But as far as I'm concerned, Heero was out of his head for at least the past six months and nothing he did during that time would be consensual. Like--like me getting raped, right? He didn't consent, so it doesn't count. He's a circumstantial virgin, same as me."  
  
Heero gently pulled his hands free, then cupped Duo's face and smoothed the tears and Duo's sudden look of dismay away with his thumbs. "Thank you. I'll try to see it that way. And I promise you, no matter what I remember later, I will not simply disappear again. I realize now how hurtful that was for you. I took away your control, doing that. In your place, I would have been frantic. Perhaps we can set up some sort of safeguard system, in case I become fugued again."  
  
Duo wiped his eyes and rose to perch on the arm of Heero's chair. "Yeah, how about a tracking collar around your ankle, or a sub-Q chip?"  
  
Heero recaptured Duo's hand. "Whatever you like."  
  
"All right then. And just for the record, I'm sorry I said for them not to tell you first thing. You probably wouldn't have freaked out."  
  
There was a tap at the door and Trowa looked in. "Relena just called. She saw the news and is sending the embassy helicopter for us. Dr. Santos says Heero can complete his treatment and observation there, and Relena can guarantee security. You OK with that, Heero?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes. I should call her back and thank her."  
  
Trowa gave him a wry look from under his bangs. "You can thank her in person. She's already en route."


	19. Luxury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).
> 
> Rated R for sensuality and pampering. And how can you have a real GWing yaoi love story without at least one giant bathtub scene, right? When Heero says "Not tonight, honey" he means it. Sorta.

Dr. Santos arranged for a physical therapist to do an evaluation on Heero before he started a regular workout, and for a nurse to check his blood and vitals. Heero thanked her and the staff for their kindness, and shook hands with Dr. Batoosingh.   
  
"I'll call tomorrow and set up an appointment schedule, once you've settled in," the doctor told him. "And with you, Duo. Both of you, be careful with each other, yes?"  
  
"We will," Heero assured him.  
  
No one said much during the short chopper hop to the embassy. Heero was still trying to sort out his reaction to the day's revelations, balancing the shock of the STD against the fact that he had actually made love to Duo, and fully intended to do it again, However, that was going have to wait until he'd completed the Penicillin K. He hadn't told Duo yet. Otherwise he doubted he'd be sitting so close now, or holding his hand.   
  
Heero couldn't get a solid reading on the 03/04 situation. They were sitting next to each other, but weren't touching each other like they usually did. Perhaps loud, prolonged sex wasn't enough to fix some situations?   
  
Wufei wasn't speaking to any of them, and wouldn't even make eye contact with Heero. In retrospect, Heero was a bit embarrassed at having had that particular teammate see him in bed with Duo, but there wasn't much he could do about it.   
  
At the moment, he was most concerned about the tension with Trowa. And it didn't help that his mind kept wandering back to how good 03 had looked, standing by the window with his shirt off. Duo was right; Trowa was hot.   
  
He stole a guilty look at Quatre and was startled to find the blond watching him. 'He's hot, too,' Heero thought, holding that gaze and giving Quatre an apologetic smile. That blue streak in his hair really set off his eyes. Quatre must have been in receiving mode, because he blushed and looked away.  
  
Heero gave himself a mental shake; he was getting as bad as Duo! Quatre and Trowa had both been good friends to him, and lifesavers for Duo while he was gone. He was still a bit jealous about that, but grateful, too. He smiled again, remembering Quatre's impulsive kiss that first day in the hospital. For Quatre's sake, he was going to make this right somehow.   
  
The chopper touched down on a broad lawn inside the embassy walls and the same junior ambassador who'd helped Heero earlier met the five of them now. Heero had been too sick to catch the man's name or properly note his appearance before, but did so now as the man introduced himself to the others as Mr. Hector Peacecraft, a second cousin of the line. He was dressed in the archaic embroidered coat and white trousers the court favored, and his black hair was coifed into ringlets across his forehead.   
  
"You are looking much better, Mr. Yuy," Peacecraft said, ushering them through a formal garden and in through a set of tall French doors. "Princess Relena sends her greetings and her apologies. A last minute matter of state came up after she spoke with Mr. Barton, one that will detain her for at least a day. She hopes to telephone you sometime this evening."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
They passed through a drawing room into the central lobby of the embassy. Duo let out a soft whistle, and everyone stared.  
  
The building was constructed in the Sanque style, which meant it was highly ornate and rather overdone for Heero's tastes. The entrance chamber was massive, with walls paneled in white and gold, and hung with ornately framed paintings of Sanque nobles and heroes. Huge crystal chandeliers hung on gilded chains below a frescoed ceiling. The chamber floor and sweeping double staircase were of polished Sanque marble. Their footsteps echoed as they crossed to something like a concierge's desk and were signed in as guests in a large guest ledger. As Heero automatically noted exits and security points, he searched as always for an adjective to set the image in his mind. He found himself torn between "opulent" and "garish."  
  
Liveried servants appeared as if on cue to take their meager luggage. Wufei hung onto his bag, fending the servant off with a frown. "I won't be staying."  
  
"But you'll come up with us, right?" asked Quatre.  
  
"If you insist," the Chinese pilot said with a grudging sigh. "Ambassador, would it be possible to arrange transport for me this evening? The time doesn't matter."  
  
"Certainly, Captain. I will see to the arrangements."  
  
An equally ornate elevator whisked them silently up to the third floor guest wing. Peacecraft directed them to a series of doors along one corridor, four of which had keys ready the locks. "These adjoining rooms have been prepared for you. I shall leave it to you gentlemen to sort yourselves out. Is there anything else you require?"  
  
"Food would be good," Duo told him. "We didn't exactly have a chance to go out for dinner."   
  
"But of course. You will find a list of house specialties in your rooms. Simply dial 7 for the kitchen and it will be brought up. Laundry services are also available at that number."  
  
"Is there a fitness room?" asked Heero.   
  
"Yes, on the fifth floor. Please, do make yourselves at home."  
  
The rooms were all very much the same, sumptuous and overblown as the rest of the place, with tall windows overlooking the side garden they'd entered through. The beds were enormous, with blue and gold comforters and canopies of heavy velvet that matched the draperies.   
  
Heero chose one at random, and Duo moved to follow.   
  
"Perhaps you should take the one next door?" Heero said quietly.   
  
Duo looked over at him surprise. "Am I being punished?"  
  
"No, of course not!" He stepped aside and let Duo enter. "But I thought it might be better, for tonight at least, if we maintained a little distance."  
  
"And how is that not punishing me?" Duo asked, scowling as he flopped down on the gigantic bed.   
  
"I'll be done with the antibiotics by tomorrow night. Until then, I'd prefer we didn't tempt each other. I don't know if I can sleep with you and not want you again."  
  
Duo softened a little. "I told you, Heero, your blood work is fine. And I've got plenty of rubbers!"  
  
But Heero was adamant. Perhaps he was punishing Duo a little, for manipulating him. But it suddenly felt like just as much a punishment for himself. "Tomorrow night, I promise. Consider it a test of our mutual self control."  
  
"Not my strong suit." Sulking, Duo wandered off in the direction of the bathroom. A moment later Heero heard him whistle again. "Hey, come see if this changes your mind!"  
  
The bathroom was larger than some of the safe houses they'd used in the war, another confection of gilt and marble. The sunken marble tub could have held all five of them.   
  
"Did you call ahead and reserve the orgy suite?" Duo asked, examining shelves stocked with thick white towels and crystal jars of bath salts and oils. More towels and washcloths were artistically arranged in a white whicker basket beside the bathtub. Duo opened a closet next to a glassed in shower enclosure and discovered at least a dozen robes in different sizes and colors, with a choice of silk or thick terry. "Damn, I guess I get to see what Heaven looks like, after all!"  
  
Heero smiled. "So this is your idea of Heaven?"  
  
"Close enough. If I start the tub running now, do you think it will be ready before tomorrow?"  
  
"It really is a wasteful set up. You bathe first, and I'll get in after."  
  
Duo pouted at him. Heero did his best to pretend he was ignoring him. "You start the water. I'll find the menu and see if the others want to eat with us."  
  
Two doors down he found the other three gathered around a small dining table in front of the window, studying a thick menu in an embossed leather portfolio. Apparently Quatre had talked Wufei into staying for supper, because he and Trowa were debating whether to order traditionally from the Sanque cuisine listing or paella.   
  
"Sanque food looks better than it tastes," Heero warned. "It's very heavy. Too much butter and cream."  
  
"You could use the calories," Quatre said. "But maybe something easier on your stomach? The seafood paella sound good, and maybe some chicken and lime soup?"  
  
"Sounds good to me!" Duo said, coming to join them. Taking a running start, he launched himself into the middle of their bed, skidding across the comforter into the mounds of pillows. "Hoo baby! This place is waaaay too good for this L-2 rat, but it's gonna take armed soldiers to evict me. Whadya say, Kat? Pretty ritzy digs, even by your standards. You and Tro will be lucky to find each other in the dark."  
  
"Oh, I'll find him," Trowa murmured.  
  
Wufei slapped down the menu. "Do you think we could go more than five minutes without someone having sex or talking about it?"  
  
"Hey, no one asked you to barge in on us!" Duo shot back, twirling the end of his braid.   
  
Wufei scowled darkly. "Doors lock, Maxwell."  
  
"Yeah, and they can be knocked on, too."  
  
"What happened?" Trowa demanded.  
  
"Oh, Wuffei got an eyeful of us after we locked you two down," Duo told him.   
  
"We got an earful," Quatre exclaimed, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Like you've got any room to talk, Blondie. 'O TRO-ah, TRO-ah, TRO-ah!'" Duo rolled across the bed, moaning.   
  
"That's what I'm talking about!" Wufei snapped. "If you're not all fucking each other, you're bragging about it. And now you!" He shot an accusing glare at Heero.  
  
Heero was perplexed as to why it should matter to 05. "I apologize if Duo and I embarrassed you earlier, but it was partly your fault for barging in like that."  
  
Wufei colored angrily. "I apologize for that. I wasn't at my best, having been kept awake every damn night by these two!"   
  
"They are pretty loud," Duo agreed, only to be pelted off the bed in a hail of pillows. He disappeared laughing over the far edge of the mattress. "Jeeze, check this out! Even the carpets here are too good for me!"   
  
"That's enough, all of you," Heero said. "Wufei, I'm sorry you feel uncomfortable around any of us. You know I have only the deepest respect for you. In the future, we should all be more careful when setting up accommodations."  
  
Duo popped up over the edge of the bed again. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too. We'll lock the door next time, or hang a necktie on the knob or something. It wasn't exactly-planned that time."  
  
"I guess we could try to be a bit quieter, when we're away from home," Quatre offered, giving Wufei one of those irresistible puppy eye looks. "Don't go away mad, please? Your friendship means a lot."  
  
Not even Wufei was immune to that look. "Very well. But I do have to get back to work. Heero, you'll be all right now, won't you?"  
  
"Of course. The doctors believe I'm not crazy. The rest is just physical recovery."  
  
"Fuck, the tub!" Duo looked back as he bolted out the door. "And I didn't mean that literally, Wuffie!"  
  
"Come back when you're done. We'll eat here," Quatre called after him.   
  
Heero stood and stretched. "I'm going to look at the fitness equipment. Wufei?"  
  
They took the elevator up to the top floor and discovered a facility professional athletes would envy. In addition to the usual free weights and machines, there was a full-sized pool, a Jacuzzi, and sauna. Huge plate glass windows gave a panoramic view of the city below.  
  
Heero took a trial pull at the lat machine, but found he couldn't lift anything close to his usual weight.  
  
"You shouldn't do that until the PT looks you over," Wufei warned. "Clearly you've suffered some muscle atrophy."  
  
Heero frowned, and settled for a light setting on the recumbent bike. Wufei went to the large mat by a mirrored wall and flowed through a series of practice katas. Heero was winded after a few minutes, but pushed himself to five. "Damn!"  
  
"You're young. And muscles have memory, especially as highly trained as you were," Wufei offered, sitting down to stretch.  
  
Heero sat back, resting his feet on the pedals. "Does it bother you so much, me being with Duo?"  
  
Wufei seemed to be ignoring him, but said at last, "I have come to appreciate the others. They were all good warriors in their own way, but peace has made them foolish. They act like children now, and he's the worst."  
  
"The war damaged him, Wufei. It left him ill and lost. So did my abandoning him like that."  
  
"You were even sicker, Heero. I understand what you did and why. I think you were very wise, even if you didn't fully understand your own motives. The person I blame is Relena Peacecraft. She could have helped us find you sooner, instead of letting it come out as it did. I do not understand it."  
  
"I asked her not to."  
  
"You were not in your right mind. She must have seen that."  
  
Heero shook his head. "I don't remember, really. She's always had some odd attachment to me. Perhaps that swayed her judgment."  
  
"No doubt. As for you and Maxwell?" Wufei took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Perhaps I am a little jealous."  
  
Heero stared at him. "Jealous? Don't tell me you're attracted to one of us?"  
  
Wufei spared him a glare, but it seemed half hearted. "I am not gay. I find it more than a little unsettling that the rest of you are. Oh, Maxwell and Winner came as no surprise. But you and Barton? That did. Until this afternoon I'd assumed that you at least were--Well, I am persuaded otherwise. But I'm more surprised still that both of you and Barton chose such ill-matching partners."  
  
"Ill-matched? No; complimentary personalities. And to find love with one who knows what you went through? It's a very lucky thing. Is that why you're jealous?"  
  
Wufei stood and surprised Heero with a bow, palms together in front of his heart. "In part, perhaps. But mostly because you and Barton so clearly love the bakas, and are so obviously and deeply loved in return. Even I cannot see that without being moved." He came to Heero and extended his hand. "I wish you good fortune and many happy years, if you can manage not to strangle Maxwell with his own hair. I watched him yearn for you during the war, and saw how badly he suffered while you were gone. You were lucky to find him alive when you returned to us. Take good care of him from now on. He is worth it, under all the foolishness, I think."  
  
Heero clasped his hand, deeply touched. "I will, Wufei, thank you. I hope you find the same love for yourself. And also that you will always feel welcome with the rest of us."  
  
Wufei bowed again. "Thank you. Will you be all right if I go tonight?"  
  
"I'd rather you stayed, but yes, I will be fine."  
  
"Very well. Perhaps we should go back now, assuming you accomplished your mission?" He gave Heero another hint of a smile.  
  
The food hadn't arrived yet, so Heero went to sort out his laundry. "Duo, are you done yet? And shall I put your clothes in with mine for the--" He stopped short just inside the bathroom doorway, caught by the sight of Duo floating luxuriously on his back in the enormous tub. His eyes were closed but the way he was smiling told Heero he knew he was being observed. The bath salts he'd chosen tinted the water blue against the white marble and made it smell like roses and lemons. He looked like a pale, glowing angel with his hair floating around him like that.  
  
Or a mermaid.  
  
'A horny mermaid,' Heero amended. Duo's hands floated free on either side of him, but his cock was hard against his belly.   
  
Duo yawned and stretched, bobbing gently, then opened his eyes. "Oh, there you are. Sure you won't join me?" He turned over and came to the edge of the tub, hair trailing sinuously behind him. Resting his chin on his folded hands, he regarded Heero with seemingly innocent interest.   
  
Heero knelt and caught his chin in one hand, lifting him for a chaste, close-lipped kiss. "Yes, I'm sure. And stop teasing me."  
  
"Can't help it!" Duo pouted prettily. "Have you taken your pills? I'm due for my Lamictal."  
  
"You remembered!" Duo had been very good about that since giving Heero his promise.  
  
"Could you get it for me, lover? Please? And my shampoo and conditioner? My bag's over there by the sink. "  
  
Several cut crystal glasses stood ready on a glass shelf above the sink, together with a small fresh flower arrangement and some plastic-wrapped guest toiletries. Heero claimed a blue toothbrush, the first he'd owned in at least six months. He inspected his face briefly in the mirror as he filled a glass and took his antibiotics; no sign of beard regrowth yet, but he needed to brush his teeth and wash his hair. "My hair is very dull looking, and still too long. Are there any scissors here?"  
  
"Don't!" Duo called over. "I like it like that. It's sexy. Just use my shampoo and stuff and it'll look great."  
  
Heero looked at his reflection again, noting how the hair brushed the collar of his sweater and shadowed his eyes. If Duo liked it like that, that was fine with him. He unzipped Duo's bag and looked for the items he'd asked for. In the process he found the eyeliner pencil and lip gloss, too. He regarded them for a moment, certain thoughts forming in his mind, then put them back where he'd found them.   
  
Balancing the various tubes and bottles with a glass of water, he went back and sat down at the edge of the tub. "Here, pills first."   
  
Duo swallowed them and looked up expectantly. He liked being rewarded for remembering. Heero smiled and flipped open the shampoo bottle. "Turn around, little mermaid. I'll wash your hair."  
  
Duo's grin turned incredulous. "What did you call me?"  
  
"Mermaid." Heero wondered if this was somehow insulting, then realized that any mermaid he'd ever seen in a picture had been female. But it stood to reason that there must be males, too. "It was meant as a compliment, Duo. With your hair floating around you in the water like that, you remind me of one, and I like mermaids. They're very beautiful and exotic. Like you." He faltered to a halt, not knowing what to make of the look Duo was giving him.  
  
"You don't remember the first time you called me that, do you?"  
  
"I've never called you that."  
  
"Oh yes, you did!" Duo turned around as requested, but Heero could tell he wasn't angry at all. Rather, he seemed quite pleased.  
  
"I'm sure I didn't." Heero poured some shampoo onto Duo's wet hair and began to work it through. "Wait. That time I washed your hair in the lake?"  
  
"That freezing fucking Finnish lake!"   
  
"Yes, that one. Your hair spread out in the water, like it is now, and I did think about--But I didn't say it!"  
  
"Yeah, you did. Well, you just sort of growled it to yourself, but I heard. Thought I was hallucinating at the time, but you did!" He chortled with delight. "Way back then, back when we all thought you were such a stone cold killer with no more emotion than a gundam, you were a romantic after all!"  
  
Heero didn't bother denying it. "Even back then, you had a very strange effect on me."  
  
"Glad to hear it. Mmmmmmm. Oh that feels great!" Duo arched his neck happily as Heero massaged his scalp, then worked the fragrant lather down through the long mass of wet hair. When he was done Duo submerged and shook his head under the water, rinsing. There was enough water to allow for excellent dispersion.   
  
When he came up again, Heero squeezed some of the water out and went to work with the conditioner. "This smells very good. I like sandalwood."   
  
"Good. It ain't cheap, but hey, I'm worth it, right?"  
  
"Yes, you are." Heero worked the slippery strands through his fingers, savoring the texture and the warm aroma. "It makes you smell very good, but not like a girl. Rinse, please."  
  
Duo finished and stood up. Heero stared happily, watching the water stream down over that flat chest and belly, and down through the soft nest of chestnut curls around his sex.   
  
"02 to 01, over! Getting cold here. Copy that?"   
  
"I copy, 02. Got distracted." Heero grinned and handed him a towel for his hair, then wrapped a large bath sheet around him as he stepped up, combining toweling with a few kisses and a long hug. "And you are my beautiful mermaid!"  
  
Still enveloped, Duo leaned into him and chuckled against his shoulder. "Never believe me if I told 'em."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing. I love you, Heero. You keep surprising me."   
  
"Surprises are good?"  
  
"They are lately!" He kissed Heero lightly on the lips and took over the drying. "Get in and have a soak while I dry my hair. Then I'll wash yours for you. Don't do it without me, OK?"  
  
Heero undressed and slipped into the water, which smelled of roses and lemons and sandalwood now. He wondered if Duo would mind if they smelled the same?  
  
Across the room Duo let the towels fall away and went to work with his comb and a blow dryer. Heero relaxed and enjoyed the view under half closed lids-- all that hip-length chestnut hair gradually drying in shining waves, swaying around that wonderful, slender body.   
  
'Mine,' Heero thought with a very pleasurable rush of possessiveness. He had plans for that body, tonight and tomorrow. When Duo bent at the waist to dry the underneath layers, Heero found himself reaching to stroke his own erection under the water. He still lacked much in the way of practical application, but was currently drawing heavily on his considerable body of research.  
  
"I'm going to make love to you for a very long time next time, Duo Maxwell, " he murmured, knowing the blow-dryer would drown out the words. "You will scream my name again."  
  
It would have been very easy to bring himself off in the tub, but he decided against it in favor of storing up all his energies for better use.  
  
Just then another sound cut through the dryer's drone. Duo switched it off, then looked around for the phone that was ringing. It was mounted on the wall near the shower. Hurrying over, he grabbed the handset. "Honeymoon suite, may I help you?" He winked at Heero, and then covered the mouthpiece. "Call coming through from Relena. You want to take it?"  
  
Heero dried his hands on a towel from the basket beside him and took the phone. "Hello, Relena?"  
  
"Heero!" She sounded very happy to hear his voice. "You poor thing! I saw you on the news. I can't believe how thin you are, but you look so handsome all the same. Are you eating?"  
  
"Not at the moment-"  
  
"I'm sorry those press vultures found you already, but it was good to see you. Where did you get that wonderful jacket?"  
  
"It was a gift from-"  
  
"I saw the others, too, and that fight with that dreadful German. Is everyone all right?"  
  
"I think he might have been hurt-"  
  
"But you got to the embassy safely?"  
  
Heero sighed. "Obviously."  
  
"And they are making you comfortable?"  
  
Heero wiggled his toes, swirling the warm, scented waters. In his direct line of vision, Duo was standing naked at the mirror, deftly braiding his hair. "Very."  
  
"What did the doctors say about your condition?"  
  
"I was suffering from malnutrition, exposure, ringworm and syphilis, but I'm much better now."  
  
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "Then it was true, what that awful man said?"  
  
"Awful man? Oh." She was referring to the German reporter's accusations. "I was not a prostitute, Relena. At least I don't remember being one."  
  
"But the--that disease."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How horrible!"   
  
"It had not reached a painful stage," he said, hoping to reassure her. "I didn't know I was infected until a few hours ago. I'm almost done with the necessary course of treatment. There were only a few lesions-"  
  
"That's-uh, well, that's good to hear."   
  
Across the room, Duo was doubled over with silent laughter. Heero raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but Duo just shook his head as he wrapped a towel around his hips and came over to wash Heero's hair.  
  
"I did miss you, Heero."  
  
"I appreciate all you have done for me, Relena."  
  
Another pause. "Well, I'll see you sometime the day after tomorrow, then."  
  
"Yes. We'll be here."  
  
"Good-bye, then."  
  
"Good-bye."  
  
Another pause, then the line went dead.  
  
"What was so funny?" Heero asked.   
  
"Dunk your head for me."  
  
Heero did, and then repeated the question.  
  
"I was just admiring the Heero Yuy charm method. The lesions were a nice touch!"  
  
"She asked---ahhhh!" Duo's fingers working across Heero's scalp as he shampooed his hair sent a powerful tingle down through his whole body. "I see why you enjoyed having your hair washed," he told him, closing his eyes to savor the sensations.  
  
Duo chuckled. "Pampering is good. I bet no one has ever done this for you before."  
  
"Perhaps when I was very young, or sick. But no, not that I recall."  
  
Duo bent and kissed his wet cheek. "Well, I hope you enjoy it, because I don't plan to stop pampering you. Ever. Rinse, please."  
  
Heero swished the soap from his hair, then leaned back happily and let Duo work the conditioner in.   
  
"I'm leaving it in for ten minutes, since your hair is so beat up." Duo went to the closet and surveyed the robes.  
  
"You should wear that dark blue silk one, with the red and gold trim," Heero said.  
  
"Your wish is my command." Duo wrapped himself in the rich paisley robe and tied the sash. It was long, almost to his ankles, but clung nicely as he moved, hinting at the form under the flowing fabric. He saw he had Heero's attention and laughingly modeled it for him, doing a series of little turns around the bathroom.  
  
"I think I should buy you one like that," Heero said. The color brought out Duo's eyes and the richness of his hair. Duo really could be a model, the way he looked and moved.  
  
"Guess it would be kinda tacky to just take it, huh? I'm going to call for the laundry guy. Five more minutes, then rinse, right?"  
  
"Copy that, 02." Heero slid down into the water and let his arms float. He had lived under many different sorts of conditions; luxury and pampering, while certainly not essential to survival, weren't bad, either.  
  
Emerging from the bathroom at last in a brown and black kimono of Shantung silk, he found Duo sprawled on his stomach on the bed, watching the CNN report of their run in with the press with the sound down, on a large vid screen he'd found concealed in an antique armoire.   
  
"I really do scowl, don't I?" Heero said, sitting down on the end of the bed beside him. It was odd to see himself like that, full length from a distance.  
  
"Yeah, you do. Good thing it doesn't scare me, huh? Oh, look! There I go!" Duo chuckled as he watched himself leap the barricades after Meir. "And there you go, grabbing me by the hair. That hurt, by the way."  
  
"Good. I'm glad it got your attention. Really, Duo, would you prefer to be in a jail cell right now, rather than here with me in the orgy suite?"  
  
Duo twisted around and put his head in Heero's lap. "Nope. Thanks for reeling me in. So, when does the orgy start?"  
  
"Tomorrow," Heero told him firmly, though the prospect of waiting was getting less and less attractive all the time. He slid a hand into the front of Duo's robe, stroking his way across the soft warm skin to find a nipple. He stroked it gently with his thumb and thrilled to feel it harden to a little peak under his touch.   
  
Duo closed his eyes and let out a soft moan. "Love your hands on me, Heero!"  
  
"You're very good to touch. I'm sorry if my hands are rough. It may be a while before my skin recovers.   
  
Duo sat up and bounced off the bed. Disappearing into the bathroom, he came back with one of the bottles from the collection there.  
  
"This should help. It's olive oil based. Give me your hands." Duo poured a thick white lotion out into the palm of his hand, then worked it over Heero's right hand, massaging his fingers and palms.  
  
"Your touch is very good, too," Heero whispered, marveling that even the simplest touch to such an ordinary area of his body could send erotic sensations all over him. Duo smiled and did his other hand, then knelt and took Heero's right foot in his lap.   
  
"You don't need to-" Heero began, still ashamed at the condition of his feet, but Duo ignored him and proceeded to push him dangerously close to breaking his own "no sex until tomorrow" resolution. Heero was on his back moaning by the time Duo finished and climbed up to lie on top of him. Heero felt Duo's hot erection pressing against his own through the cool layers of silk. Duo gave him a wicked grin and wiggled his hips.  
  
Heero caught his breath, and then clamped his hands over Duo's ass to keep him still.   
  
"Ooooo. I love those big hands!"  
  
"We are going to ruin these robes if you keep doing that."   
  
"And that's a problem why?"  
  
Quatre's arrival with news of dinner spared him having to come up with a good reason.   
  
They sat on the floor and ate of plates in their laps as they watched TV. Quatre and Trowa had bathed and changed into robes, too; Trowa in a green silk that matched his eyes, and Quatre in saffron yellow terry. Wufei seemed at ease with their state of dress, and joined in good naturedly as Duo flipped through the news stations so they could critique the various reports of their appearance. Quatre had ordered a white wine with the meal and Trowa instituted the rule that everyone had to take a drink every time Duo's language was censored. Some of the stations had opted to edit out Meir's prostitution question, but not all. After the third such time, Trowa grabbed the control and switched it off.  
  
"That was just cruel," Quatre said, shaking his head. "We don't believe it, Heero. Duo's right. Meir was just getting back at him through you for throwing his camera in the lake."  
  
"I'm glad I shook him up when I had the chance," Duo growled, spearing a scallop with his fork. "I'd have hit him harder if I'd known who he was, the fucker."  
  
Everyone took another drink of wine.  
  
By the time Wufei's transport arrived, everyone was a little soused and ready for bed. Wufei suffered good-bye embraces from Quatre and Duo, and then shook hands with Heero. "I will contact you soon, Yuy." He held his hand a moment longer, dark eyes bright with uncharacteristic emotion. "It is truly good to have you back with us."  
  
Heero nodded.   
  
"Well, that's it for me, folks," Duo announced, yawning. "Whadya say, Heero? Bed time?"  
  
"Yes. Just give me a moment with Quatre?"  
  
"'K!" Duo yawned again, hugged everyone, and wandered out.   
  
Heero waited until he heard their door close, then walked over to the others. "You two, you are really all right? About this afternoon?"  
  
Trowa hid behind his bangs, blushing, but Quatre put an arm around him and drew Heero in for a group hug.  
  
"We will be," he whispered against Heero's cheek. "We talked a little before dinner. I think it's going to be an adjustment, but one we all want to work for. I mean, it's not just you being back and how Trowa feels. I guess we didn't really think about it until you two were getting it on next door, but I guess Tro and I got used to thinking of Duo as ours, sort of. But he isn't. He's yours and we're really happy for you both. But-well, to be honest, I guess we'll sort of miss him."  
  
Heero looked at him surprise. "But, he loves you both very much! It's not like he can't see you ever again. I don't want that."  
  
"No, but it's going to be different, anyway," Trowa said quietly, still holding Quatre and Heero close.   
  
Heero stood in that three-sided embrace, imagining what it must have meant to Duo, to have this sort of support and physical contact at his worst times. He still felt a little jealous about that, but something else was creeping in around the edges that he wasn't quite sure how to name yet.   
  
"I don't want to push either of you away from him," he told them. "I don't know exactly what needs to happen with that, but if you let me have some time with him, to figure out what he and I are going to be, maybe we can work something out?"  
  
"Sharing, you mean?" Quatre laughed.  
  
"Hn. I don't know. I'm the least experienced with this of any of us. But I don't want to take him away from such good friends in a way that hurts anyone."  
  
"Concentrate on loving Duo for now," Quatre told him, kissing him on the cheek again. "The rest will work itself out. I know it."  
  
Heero kissed him back-it just seemed the natural thing to do with Quatre-then ran his fingers through the blue streak in his hair. "I like this. I like some of the jewelry you normally wear, too. And your tattoos, Trowa. I like those very much. They suit you."  
  
Trowa dropped his chin again, blushing. "Thanks, Heero. Well, good night!" He turned away quickly and went into the bathroom.  
  
Heero felt like he'd made a horrible misstep. "I'm sorry, Quatre! I didn't mean to-"  
  
"It's OK, Heero," Quatre assured him, looking a bit sad again. "That's something else we'll have to work on. This afternoon? Well, it was just kind of a shock, really. I know it doesn't mean he loves me any less." He tapped his chest, over his heart. "Really, I know it. And I know how you feel, too." The look in his eye as he said this made Heero slightly uncomfortable, but Quatre patted his arm. "Love Duo, Heero. It'll all work out."  
  
Heero hugged the small blond again, more grateful than ever for his friendship and his amazing understanding. "I would never hurt you, 04. Never."  
  
"That's why I'm not worried," Quatre told him.   
  
Heero turned to go. "I-uh, well, I was going to ask a favor. There's something I'd like to borrow."  
  
+  
  
Duo was on the bed waiting for him. He'd turned off all the lights except for one in the bathroom and a lamp on the bedside table. "Get lost?" he asked with a sleepy grin.  
  
"I just needed a moment with them, about today."  
  
"Everything OK?"  
  
"I think so. At least Quatre's not mad at me, or he wouldn't have given me these." Heero climbed up on the enormous bed with him and took two small bottles of nail polish from the pocket of his robe. One was clear, the other a dark greenish blue. "Tropic Twilight Metallic. It's what all the mermaids are wearing this season."   
  
Duo's eyes widened. "Uh-nice choice. But FYI, mermaids don't got feet."  
  
"I could do your fingernails."  
  
Duo was shaking his head, but the grin was back in a soft, rather wondering form. "So you really didn't mind it, huh?"  
  
"No. Turn around and give me your feet."  
  
"You-Heero Yuy-It really is you, right? You are going to paint my toenails for me?"   
  
"Unless you'd rather I didn't."  
  
Duo grabbed a pillow, flipped himself around, and planted both feet in Heero's lap. Crossing his arms behind his head, he grinned up at Heero. "You can take that as a go ahead."  
  
Heero smiled as he examined the nails of Duo's right foot. "You have very attractive feet. You must take good care of them."  
  
"Yeah, well, that Quatre gives one hell of a pedicure."  
  
"Hn." Another little glimpse of the intimacy the three shared. Heero uncapped the clear polish and applied a base coat as per Quatre's instructions. He did the nails of the other foot, then blew gently to dry them. Duo threw an arm across his face and let out a deep groan.  
  
"I like pampering you, too, Duo." He slid the palms of his hands across the soles of Duo's feet and saw him arch and shiver at the touch. There was an interesting bulge developing in the front of his robe again, too.  
  
"Oh, Heero! I think I may have to marry you!" Duo gasped, arching again as Heero repeated the caress.  
  
"I might consider it."  
  
Duo didn't move his arm, but Heero saw the grin widen.  
  
When the clear coat was dry enough, Heero painted on a coat of the blue metallic polish, dabbing carefully with the little brush to avoid getting it on his skin. When he was done, the nails looked like little pieces of enamel jewelry, or the paint on a really expensive motorcycle. He repeated the blowing and caressing of feet. Duo was breathing heavily by the time he applied the second coat of blue.   
  
"This looks nice on you," Heero told him. "I like you decorated."  
  
"Mmmmmmmm. Like being decorated!"   
  
Heero resisted the urge to ask if he enjoyed having Quatre paint his nails this much. Instead, he asked, "Why don't you have any piercings or tattoos?"  
  
Duo lifted his arm and peered up at Heero. "Would you like me to get some?"  
  
"That's not what I meant. I just wondered why you don't have any, especially since you were around those two so much, and they have them."  
  
Duo stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then shrugged. "I dunno. As far as piercings go, the idea of having any more bits of metal shot into me didn't really appeal. Got my fill of that during the war. I don't know what's up with Quatre and that. You wouldn't believe some of the places he's pierced. Jeeeeze! He's got some tats, too, here and there, but just the usual decoration type mostly. The starburst around his navel is pretty cool.   
  
"Trowa's ink is different. Those bands around his arms are some ancient Eskimo warrior design or something, in memory of Heavyarms. Get it? Arm tattoos? I mean, we all miss our gundams, right? But I think Trowa just can't quite get over it. Anyway, they look really cool, especially when he's working."  
  
"And the one on his back?"  
  
"Ah, showed that one, did he?"   
  
"What? No, it was just there! I mean-"  
  
"It's OK, Heero. He had that one done for Kat, after the first time he let him-Well, you can guess, right?"  
  
"Ah." Heero was surprised. "So it's Quatre who penetrates Trowa?"  
  
Duo burst out laughing and nearly ruined his half-dry polish on the front of Heero's silk robe. "Jesus, you still talk like a computer sometimes. I sure missed that! And to answer your question, no, it's usually the other way around, but not always. But I can guarantee you this: Quatre Winner-Barton is the only guy to ever have that privilege. Hence, the ink. It's Celtic, but there's an Arabic inscription worked into the design, too. Neither one of them will say what it is."  
  
Heero blew on the polish again. "That's very-" He shook his head wonderingly. "It's a very beautiful thing for them to share. Very romantic."  
  
"Yes it is," Duo murmured.   
  
"I just don't understand it. How can Trowa have a 'thing' for me if he loves Quatre so much?"  
  
"Who knows, Heero. The heart's got a mind of its own sometimes. It's like how I didn't take the plunge and become lovers with them, after we all thought you were gone for good. I love them. I think they're sexy and friendly and wonderful and they're the best friends a guy could have. We had a lot of fun together, and went through some hard times. That's love, right? All the same, every time I thought about going beyond just messing around or cuddling, it hurt. Right here." He touched his chest. "Maybe my heart knew you were coming back for me, eh?"  
  
Heero shifted Duo's feet carefully out of his lap and stretched out beside him. "You have a wise heart, then, like Quatre's. And I can't tell you how very glad I am that you waited for me, even when you shouldn't have. I love you, Duo, more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life. Not that that's saying much, I suppose-"  
  
Duo pressed a finger across Heero's lips. "Don't ever say that. Knowing you the way I do, I know what a hugely big deal it is to be loved by Heero Yuy. I just hope you believe me when I tell you that despite how my past history makes it look, I never wanted anyone but you. Not like this."  
  
Heero leaned in and kissed him, knowing it was safe to go this far, safe to open Duo's lips with his tongue and share that intimate caress between them. Duo ran his fingers through Heero's hair and over his shoulders, urging him closer. Heero ran a hand down Duo's chest and belly and covered the bulge of his erection with his cupped palm. Duo moaned into his mouth, moving under his hand.   
  
Heero pulled back. "I'm sorry. I wasn't going to start anything tonight, but now I'd really like to suck you off. I'd really like to do that. With a condom, of course."  
  
"Only if I can repay the favor," Duo whispered, still pressing up into Heero's hand.   
  
"Tomorrow. I want to save it all for tomorrow. I don't mind, Duo, really. Just let me do that much for you tonight, and tomorrow you can do anything you want."  
  
Violet eyes locked with his. "Anything, Heero?"  
  
Heero kissed him again. "Anything."


	20. Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo sprawled on the bed in his robe, admiring his glistening blue toenails and listening to the sound of teeth being vigorously brushed in the bathroom. Heero had rousted him out of bed too soon this morning, probably to keep Duo from trying to seduce him again.   
  
Duo would have persisted last night, but Heero had sent him off to dream land with a totally amazing blowjob that fried his circuits and left him too relaxed to do anything but wrap himself around Heero and fall asleep. As good as that blowjob had been, he'd woken up feeling just as amorous and rather naughty. Heero had allowed a couple of deep kisses and a little groping, then slapped him on the butt and sent him off to the shower, firmly turning down Duo's suggestion to conserve water.   
  
"And no masturbating in there," he'd warned in a patented Yuy growl that sent a totally contradictory impulse straight to Duo's groin.  
  
He'd been good, though, and now he was hornier than ever. He waited until the water stopped running in the sink, then called in to Heero, "So, you said 'anything' goes tonight. What's 'anything' include?"  
  
Heero gave him an inscrutable look as he came back into the bedroom. He was wearing the pair of tight black Spandex shorts Quatre had picked out for him. That, and the sexy way his damp hair hung over his forehead made Duo give serious thought to tackling him and dragging him back into bed.  
  
"Just what I said," Heero told him, bending down to look through the duffle for a clean shirt. "Of course, I base that on the assumption that you do not have any repulsive 'kinks' that I would object to. If I thought you'd want to urinate on me or bring in animals, I'd have qualified the offer."  
  
"Eeeeuuwww! Way to ruin the moment!"   
  
"You should get dressed." Heero pointed to the packets of clean laundry delivered to their door earlier. He took out the green tank top and pulled it on, then went to the bedroom looking glass. Duo watched, puzzled, as Heero scowled at himself, and then pulled off the shirt.  
  
"No good?"  
  
Heero shrugged. "It seems silly, trying to look like I did then." He found a burgundy tee shirt and put that on over the shorts. "I'm not who I was, nor do I want to be. Besides, the tank shows how thin my arms are."  
  
Duo checked the clock on the night table. "The physical therapist will be here soon. I bet you'll feel a lot better once you start working out again. You'll build up fast."  
  
"Wufei told me the same thing last night."  
  
"You two were gone a while. What else did you talk about?  
  
"He's jealous of us-not for being gay, but for being happy and in love."  
  
"Yeah, he is kinda odd man out, isn't he? I thought for sure he and Sally Po would stay together but that didn't last long. I wonder what happened? Hey, did I tell you? I think Wu-man partakes."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
Duo mimed smoking a joint. "I swear I smelled it in his room the other day."  
  
"I find that hard to believe."  
  
"Yeah, then again, maybe it's good for him. He's so uptight about everything, he could use an outlet. We did almost get him drunk last night, though, huh?"  
  
"Thanks to Trowa's game based on your bad language."   
  
"Guess I do swear a lot." Duo rolled over and waggled his ass. "Wanna spank me again? I've been a very bad boy!"  
  
Heero gave him a rather dangerous smile. "Given your reaction earlier, not spanking you is the better option, if I wish to show disapproval of your behavior."  
  
"Damn! I was hoping you wouldn't figure that out. Hey, what if I'm a very good boy?" He shook his butt again, grinning at Heero over his shoulder.  
  
Heero rolled his eyes. "There doesn't seem to be much chance of that,. What do you want for breakfast?"  
  
"I already ordered for both of us. Ah, and here it is!"  
  
Duo rolled off the bed and opened the door for the servant with the breakfast cart. The young man glanced a bit nervously at the two of them and rumpled bed, and retreated hastily. Unfazed, Duo uncovered the half dozen dishes with a flourish. "For your dining pleasure, Monsieur, allow me to offer eggs Benedict, bacon, chocolate croissants, fresh raspberries, fried potatoes, and some Spanish ham and tomato on bread thing I can't pronounce. We also have coffee, lots of water, and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice. You gotta push those fluids. "  
  
"Are you certain this will be enough food?" Heero asked, amused.  
  
"I've got to fatten you up, Yuy, and the food's free. Come on, let me pamper you some more. You know you love it!" Duo took him by the hand and seated him at the table by the window.   
  
"If I eat too much I won't be able to work out," Heero pointed out as Duo heaped a plate for him. "Get the others in here to help eat all this!"   
  
Duo chuckled as he poured the coffee and juice. "I went to do that while you were in the bathroom. They are otherwise occupied, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Again!"  
  
"Hey, try living with them. They're worse than rabbits!" He gave Heero a sultry look over his coffee cup. "Give you any ideas?"  
  
"Tonight, Duo. Behave!"  
  
+  
  
Duo tagged along while Heero met with the physical therapist in the fitness room. She ran Heero through a number of flexibility and coordination tests, checked his reflexes, then tested him out on some of the machines.   
  
"Well, you are certainly a long way from your old numbers," she said, consulting a copy of his medical record. "All the same, you are in better shape than many people I see. If you are careful not to push yourself too hard too quickly, I think you will see significant progress. I'm writing down a routine you can start with on these machines, as well as some recommended times for walking, swimming and the like. Be as active as you feel comfortable being and don't worry too much if you're tired at first. I'm going to recommend some vitamin supplements, and a protein shake to be taken twice daily to help rebuild muscle tissue. You are not a vegetarian, are you? No? That's just as well. Red meat and eggs, at least three times a week, and lots of vegetables and salads. I would caution you against performance enhancers, like steroids. You must be gentle with your system."  
  
"I don't use drugs," Heero informed her. "And I doubt I'll ever match the stats you have there. They were achieved through an unusual training regime that I have no wish to repeat."  
  
"Are you planning on staying on Earth?"  
  
"I don't know. Why?"  
  
"Well, it is up to you, of course, but it would make your recovery easier and faster if you do. The gravity in the colonies is much less, as you know, and the acclimation process is stressful to the body even under optimum conditions. You've been on Earth long enough that a return to space now could impede recovery."  
  
"I'll take that under consideration."   
  
+  
  
Kat and Trowa joined them in their room for lunch. Both had that "well fucked" glow Duo knew so well. Normally he envied it, but knowing that he had Heero to look forward to tonight took some of the sting out of that.  
  
Quatre had most of his facial piercing jewelry and earrings in again. Trowa wore three small gold hoops in piercings up the side of his right ear.   
  
"That bruise faded very quickly," Heero noted, looking at Trowa's cheek. "I can hardly see it."  
  
"It's still there. Kat put a little make up on it for me."  
  
"You wear makeup?"  
  
Trowa brushed his bangs back and met Heero's look of surprise with something like challenge in his green eyes. "Sometimes."  
  
"That's just some cover pancake we use on him to cover up bruises when he performs," Quatre explained. "It has an medication mixed in, to make them fade faster, too. Trapeze work is tough on the performers. You should see him after a week or two of back to back performances. His arms and legs are all beat up."  
  
"Occupational hazard," Trowa said with a shrug. '  
  
"Especially when you show as much skin as he does!" Duo put in, then cringed a little as the others shot him dark looks. Seemed the situation between Trowa and Heero wasn't diffused, after all.  
  
Talk turned to safer subjects as they ate, but presently Heero nudged Duo's foot under the table, then showed him the large black and white capsule he'd hidden under his napkin. It was the last penicillin dose. Heero popped it in his mouth, washed it down with water and winked at Duo.   
  
"Soooo, Heero. What ya want to do with the afternoon?"  
  
"I saw a library downstairs. I thought I'd do some reading, then maybe a swim, some time in the sauna, and a nap."  
  
'You're really going to drag this out, aren't you, Yuy?' Duo thought, casting a meaningful glance at the acres and acres of freshly made bed so tantalizingly close.  
  
The four friends went up to the pool together, donning suits provided by the fitness director. Trowa and Kat had massages, but when Duo expressed interest Heero touched his arm and shook his head. Duo savored another rush of anticipation. What the hell did Yuy have planned?  
  
+  
  
Heero's nap was not just to kill time or make Duo suffer. He was always tired by afternoon these days and really needed it. Securing Duo's promise not to molest him in his sleep, he lay down near the edge of the mattress and was asleep almost at once.   
  
He awoke around six to find Duo sitting near him on the bed, watching him. "Hey lover. You all revived and rested?"  
  
"Hn." Heero yawned and stretched. "Yes."  
  
"Good. I've got a special present for you!" Duo handed him a thick envelop with the hospital's crest and address on the front.  
  
Heero opened it and pulled out what appeared to be a sheaf of lab results and two cover letters.  
  
"I had them hand deliver them to me," Duo said, obviously very pleased with the contents. His grin was wider than ever and his eyes were filled with badly suppressed excitement.  
  
Heero scanned the letters. One was addressed to him, the other to Duo. They were virtually identical, reporting that both of them were free of any sexually transmitted disease. An additional sheet stapled to Heero's report showed that his iron levels were up, and that his serotonin and adrenal levels were still within the normal range.   
  
Duo shimmied over and tapped the papers. "You realize what this means?"  
  
"We are both healthy and disease free."  
  
"And?"  
  
Heero looked at him expectantly.  
  
Duo reached over and pulled something from the air next to Heero's ear. Heero grinned at the cheap conjurer's trick, then blinked at the fact that Duo was holding up a wrapped condom, rather than a coin, between his first and middle fingers.  
  
"What it means, lover--" Duo flicked the packet away over his shoulder, "Is that as long as we keep sex just between you and me, we don't need these things anymore. No more little rubber raincoats getting in the way and tasting funky. I am officially, one hundred percent, au natural, bare backing yours, Heero Yuy! And vice versa."   
  
"Ah."  
  
"Ah!" Duo agreed. "You do realize that I've never made unprotected love with anyone else before?"  
  
Heero caught himself before he could ask, 'not even our friends?' but Duo looked deep into his eyes and said, "No one, Heero. Like I said, I've been saving all that for you."  
  
Heero thought again of blood tests and lesions and black and white capsules. "I wish--"  
  
Duo stopped him with a kiss. "Doesn't count, baby. We agreed, remember? Doesn't count and we never need to talk about it again. You're pure as the driven snow. So, are we OK?"  
  
Heero drew him down for a kiss, then held him close through the bedclothes. "Yes, we are OK. All systems go. I'm going to make love to you tonight until you scream my name loud enough to embarrass the entire neighborhood. No, all of Madrid."  
  
"Oh, I like the sound of that! Should we eat first?"  
  
"You go start the shower and I will order."  
  
"No giant tub?" Duo looked disappointed.  
  
"Takes too long. Maybe after."  
  
Duo brightened up at once and saluted. "Shower it is!"  
  
Heero found the menu and perused it, looking for foods that would provide energy without being heavy or making them smell bad. Duo was singing in the bathroom, some popular song Heero recognized enough to know he was singing off key.   
  
Smiling, he turned his attention back to the menu. He'd picked up on the fact that Duo had a taste for anything luxurious and expensive, so he ordered two lobster salads and a fresh fruit plate, but passed on wine or champagne; the wine they'd had last night had left him feeling very sluggish. Instead he asked for two bottles of a sparkling chilled cider and some ice water. If they were hungry afterwards, they could always order more food.  
  
Duo was already naked at the mirror, pinning his coiled braid up with an odd collection of lock picks and pencils. It was an interesting look when he finished.  
  
"Whadya think?" Duo grinned at him in the mirror.   
  
"I think it will keep your hair dry long enough for a shower." Heero stepped in behind him and circled his waist with his hands, then kissed his way up Duo's long neck. Their eyes met in the mirror and Heero smiled. Duo was already looking flushed and dewy-eyed. Heero looked like a hungry wolf, ready to devour him.   
  
"So, you gonna show me 'anything'?" Duo whispered, pressing back against the front of Heero's shorts.   
  
"Soon."   
  
Duo turned and slowly undressed him, planting kisses here and there as he lifted Heero's shirt over his head, helped him out of his sneakers and socks, and pulled off the shorts, all the while carefully not touching Heero's now very erect cock. Instead, he gave each hipbone a slow lap with his tongue. "Yum. Salty."  
  
Heero pulled him up into another kiss, pressing full length against him, skin to skin, cock to erect cock. Duo's lips tasted of his own sweat, but it wasn't a bad taste. He wondered what Duo's semen would taste like; he fully intended to find out.  
  
They showered together, washing and teasing each other with sandalwood scented suds. Apart from necessary washing, however, Heero kept their hands away from each other's genitals. For now.   
  
Their dinner arrived with a candelabra, so they ate in their robes on the floor by candlelight, feeding each other with forks at first, then their fingers. Heero sucked bits of lobster and mayonnaise from Duo's fingers, licking them clean after each offered morsel, and watched those violet-blue eyes go darker still with arousal. Duo did the same for him and Heero closed his eyes, memorizing the rough velvet caresses of that tongue swirling around his fingers, imagining what it would feel like against the bare head of his cock. That was another thing he hoped to experience before morning.  
  
Cool juicy strawberries and chilled melon balls followed, with sips of tart bubbly cider. More amorous by the minute, Duo eased Heero onto his back, took a swig of cider straight from the bottle, then leaned over and pressed his lips to Heero's, sharing the cold liquid with him in an open-mouthed kiss. Heero swallowed hungrily, then thrust his tongue up into that generous mouth, tasting the lingering sweetness there. Pushing Duo over onto his back, he took a swig and returned the favor. This time the kissing turned into a long series of caresses that left them both lying naked on their discarded robes.   
  
Heero pulled back a little, admiring Duo in the candlelight.   
  
"Time for anything?" Duo whispered, his voice deep and throaty.  
  
"Almost. There's something I'd like to see." Heero raised up on his knees, and captured Duo's bare foot. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed his way from heel to toes, then ran his tongue lightly across the polished nails. Duo writhed in pleasure, stretching his arms up over his head. "I like this look very much on you, Duo."  
  
Duo's eyes slid shut as he let out an open-mouthed sigh of agreement.   
  
"You have some eye makeup in your bag."  
  
Duo's eyes came open again in a sultry, half lidded look of appraisal. "The liner? You've been wondering about that, haven't you?"  
  
"Do you wear that?"  
  
"Sometimes, when we go clubbing."  
  
Heero grinned. "Quatre's doing?"  
  
"Yeah. He's a very bad influence."  
  
"I disagree. Will you wear it for me?"  
  
"Of course!" Duo purred. "Why don't you turn the bed down? I'll be right back. And make sure the door's locked! Pull the curtains, too. I don't want an audience this time."  
  
Heero chuckled and secured the room, double checking the door that joined their room and the empty one next to it, as well as the main entrance. There was a full moon tonight, and the moon light might have been a good romantic touch, but Heero pulled the heavy draperies closed and moved the candles to the table near the bed. No audience. No friends bursting in. No pesky servants or security personnel. No fucking reporters with helicopters, telephoto lenses, or spy satellite access.  
  
He set the water pitcher and a glass near the bed, turned back the heavy comforter and silky cotton sheets and lay down in the middle of the bed, reveling in the quiet and privacy.   
  
Duo switched off the bathroom light and sauntered back in with a couple of hand towels. He'd taken his hair down and brushed it loose over his shoulders. Heero's cock throbbed appreciatively as Duo slowly crossed the room, hips swinging just a little, and crawled up from the end of the bed on his hands and knees until he was straddling Heero's hips, his erection mere inches above Heero's. His eyes were outlined with the kohl eyeliner in such a way that they looked almost Oriental or Arabic, and very large. His lips glistened in the candlelight, slightly pinker than usual. Heero had forgotten about the gloss. He gazed up, entranced. Long hair, painted toenails, makeup--and Duo still looked, felt, and smelled like nothing other than an exotically beautiful but still quite masculine young man.   
  
He reached up and combed the hair back from Duo's face, running the cool, soft strands through his fingers. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, Duo Maxwell."  
  
Duo grinned and settled himself on Heero's bare stomach. "Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you--only darkly, dangerously handsome, rather than beautiful."  
  
"I still look dangerous?"  
  
Duo shivered and stretched out on top of him, propping his head up with his hands. "Oh, yeah, and it really works for me."  
  
"You think I will do dangerous things to you?"  
  
"Only ones I'll like."  
  
Heero stroked his hands down from the top of Duo's head, over his shoulders and back to clasp his buttocks. Holding him close, he rocked his hips up and watched those huge eyes go a little wider. "I want to taste you, Duo. I want to feel that naked cock in my mouth and taste your skin and your semen when you cum down my throat."  
  
Duo closed his eyes and let out a throaty groan. "Read my mind again. Did that research of yours come up with a little something called sixty nine?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Duo rolled off and turned around so that they were face to face with each other's erections. Lying on their sides, head's pillowed on each other's thigh, they began a slow and languorous exploration of each other's body's, licking and lapping and sucking and tasting to their hearts content, unconcerned for now with anything but the experience itself.   
  
Reveling in the taste of Duo, Heero could not find words to define it. It was as much about the heat and mingled scents of Duo and sandalwood and Heero himself as the taste of his skin. With Duo doing the same to him, Heero got a strange, double image experience, as if he could feel what he was doing to Duo through what Duo's mouth was doing to him.   
  
And what Duo was doing to him was even more amazing than yesterday's experience. Without a condom in the way, every movement of that silky firm tongue was magnified a hundredfold. The heat and wetness of it, the seemingly endless variety of stimulation achieved with tongue and teeth and lips and suction. Conceding that Duo was far more the expert at the moment, Heero began to follow his direction, doing to Duo what Duo was doing to him. Duo caught on at once and seemed to be going out of his way to show Heero what he liked. Floating on waves of unbelievable sensation, tasting the salty metallic sweetness of the first drips of pre ejaculate fluids, entranced as he learned the nuances of tonguing the slit at the tip, and lazily rolling his tongue back and forth against the ultra sensitive skin just below the head, Heero was taken by surprise by his own orgasm when it hit. Bucking into Duo's mouth and hand, he groaned loudly around the cock still in his mouth and was rewarded with the same reaction. Wrapping an arm around Duo's ass to keep him from thrashing out of reach, he suddenly had a hot mouthful of Duo's very essence and the sound of his name, somewhat muffled, being moaned around his own cock. Duo's cum was thick and hot against his tongue, and tasted pleasantly salt and bitter. Still coming himself, still clutching those straining hips, Heero didn't think twice about swallowing it all down and sucking Duo's pulsing cock clean the way he had his fingers earlier.   
  
Sated, they both rolled onto their backs, panting loudly and reaching for each other's hand.   
  
"Oh, man!" Duo looked dazed. "That was-- That was--"  
  
"Yes." Heero said, then laughed. "Au natural is much better."   
  
Duo dragged himself up and kissed Heero, mingling their tastes together. He looked even sexier now. His darkly lined eyelids were heavy, his smile sated and satisfied.   
  
"You have bedroom eyes, Heero Yuy," he breathed, gazing down at Heero.  
  
"So do you. All the time. And I like the eyeliner very much. Should I wear it for you, too?"  
  
Duo grinned softly as he brushed Heero's bangs back and studied his face. "No," he whispered. "You are perfect just as you are. You're dark and intense and incredibly virile. All man! And all mine. Maybe an ear stud?" He ran a thumb over Heero's earlobe, then moved his hand down to trace a line around his upper arm. "Or a tat, something like Trowa's. Mmmmm, yeah! That would look hot on you. Or maybe here--" He bent down and kissed the smooth skin between Heero's hipbone and the patch of black pubic hair. "Right here where no one gets to see it but me."  
  
"Whatever would turn you on," Heero told him, making his voice low and rough. Duo shivered against him, then wiggled and laughed as Heero reached around and tickled his fingers across his back just above the cleft of his ass. "I might like one like Trowa's right here, on you, for only me to enjoy."  
  
Duo arched against him. "Really? Well, I guess that depends on whether or not you're going to be back there, needing something to look at, huh?"  
  
Heero cupped Duo's chin and got him to look at him. "Tell me, Duo. Do you want that?"  
  
"I was sort of hoping it came under the heading of 'anything', yeah."  
  
Heero pulled Duo up on top of him a gain, and moved his thigh between Duo's, parting his legs. Stroking down his back again, he cupped those firm buttocks, kneading them with his fingers, then ran the fingers of his right hand down that cleft, brushing softly across the exposed little opening.   
  
Duo threw his head back and gasped. "Oh yeah, baby! I saved that for you. Never wanted anyone's cock there but yours, Heero. Do you want to?"  
  
"You know I do--"  
  
"But?"  
  
"But I don't know how, exactly. I've read up on the subject, but I'm afraid of hurting you. I'm not exactly small."  
  
"You say that like it's not this boy's number one fantasy!" Duo chuckled. "My hot, perfect, smoldering, dark-eyed lover, ravishing me with his huge cock! What do you think I dream about when I jerk off, big boy?"  
  
"I wouldn't call it huge."  
  
"Close enough. Don't worry, Heero, I'll let you know how you're doing every step of the way, OK? Will you do me?"  
  
'Do me.' Heero felt a strange mix of excitement and nervous tension at the words.   
  
"I'd like to do it face to face this first time," Duo whispered, reaching over for the towels he'd put on the night table. Unfolding the top one, he took out something and put it in Heero's right hand. It was a fresh, unopened tube of lubricant. "Use plenty of this and take it nice and slow, OK, baby?"  
  
'He's nervous, too,' Heero realized. A back door virgin, and one who's been raped. Getting up on his knees, he gently pressed Duo back against the pillows, straightening his back and lifting his hips onto another pillow. He had indeed studied this topic extensively in his research. Spreading Duo's long legs, he knelt between them and had him bend his knees, resting his feet on Heero's thighs. He paused, admiring the view.   
  
Duo's hair spread over the pillows like an angel or a mermaid's in a painting, framing that beloved face and those dark-rimmed eyes. Duo didn't need piercings or tattoos. Right now Heero couldn't imagine allowing any permanent alteration to such a perfectly beautiful form. The eyeliner and nail polish only accentuated that natural beauty. Heero wouldn't mind experimenting more with that sort of decoration, but no, he thought with another hot rush of alpha male possessiveness and love, nothing permanent. Duo was perfect, just as he was.  
  
Opening the lube, Heero squeezed some out in his palm and warmed it in his cupped hands, then coated his right middle finger and pressed it to that tight little pucker. Duo opened his mouth and breathed deeply, relaxing for him to enter. He was tight, but Heero's slicked finger entered with no difficulty, and he slicked and added a second and worked them slowly in and out.   
  
"Oh yeah!" Duo gasped, already clutching at the sheets. "Oh, god, Heero, I am so ready for this!"  
  
Heero's own breath was coming in tight little gasps now, but he mistook it at first for excitement. He added a third finger and felt carefully for the little bump of the prostate that he'd found yesterday. Duo moaned again, more loudly, and began rocking against his fingers, urging him deeper. His cock was already recovering, and lay half hard across his belly. "Oh Heero! Yes, that's good. That's really, really gooooood!"  
  
Heero withdrew his fingers long enough to apply more lube, then slid them back in, and massaged Duo's balls with his left hand.   
  
Duo yelped and arched, digging his heels into Heero's thighs. The blue polish on his toenails winked in the candle light as his toes curled and uncurled. "Oooooooooo, so good! I think--I think maybe you better do me now, because I'm not gonna last."   
  
Heero swallowed hard and withdrew his fingers again. Duo moaned softly, urging him to hurry.  
  
Heero squeezed out more lube and saw that his fingers were shaking a little. It was probably normal to be nervous. He'd never done this before--  
  
_/But almost-/_  
  
He slicked his partially erect cock, stroking it to make it hard. He was turned on, of course, but hadn't thought to take the refractory time into consideration. With his impaired health, perhaps this was going to be a problem. His chest was really tight now; it was hard to get his breath.  
  
But he seemed to be hard enough. Leaning forward, he kissed Duo. "Are you sure you're ready?"  
  
"Uh huh! Be gentle, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
Heero knelt again and pulled Duo's hips onto his lap, guiding the tip of his erection to the glistening opening. Duo rocked his hips, urging him on. Still guiding it with his hand, Heero leaned over him and pressed the tip in, watching Duo's face for reaction. Heero's heartbeat was hammering in his ears.  
  
Duo's mouth opened very wide, and then those violet eyes. "Oh. Yeah. Nice and--"   
  
Heero pressed in and felt the head of his cock pop past the ring of tight muscle at the opening. Duo gasped, then grimaced as Heero tried to press deeper.   
  
Duo's lips were moving and his cock was not as hard as it had been. Suddenly Heero felt his own erection slipping away. Duo grimaced again and Heero strained to hear what he was whispering now over the sudden rushing in his ears.  
  
"Heero, it's all . . ."  
  
_/Please don't!/  
  
/Please don't!/  
  
/Please don't!/_  
  
Heero couldn't tell if the voice was Duo's or his own.  
  
Then he was curled up on the far edge of the bed, shaking and cold and sick to his stomach. Duo scrambled over to him and Heero found himself shuddering away from the hand on his shoulder. "No! Don't. I'm sorry. Duo, I'm so sorry!"  
  
"It's all right, Heero!" But Duo sounded terrified.  
  
Panic drove claws of ice into Heero's belly, doubling him over against a sudden burst of nausea.  
  
"Heero, what's wrong?" Duo sounded very far away now.   
  
Why was he leaving Heero here in the dark? "Duo? Duo!"  
  
Then there were strong arms around him, holding him close, holding him tight as the room swam slowly back into focus and he felt how badly he was shaking against Duo's warm body.   
  
"Heero, what the hell happened? What's wrong?"  
  
"Stopped!"   
  
"What stopped? Please, buddy, you're scaring me here. Talk to me, Heero!"  
  
"I stopped," Heero heard himself saying.  
  
"You? Oh god! Oh, Heero, I'm sorry. I didn't know it would take you back like that. I'm so sorry! Fuck, what a selfish, blind prick I am!"   
  
The fact that Duo was crying now cleared Heero's mind. Duo was crying. Duo needed him.   
  
"Did I hurt you? Oh Duo, I didn't want to hurt you!"   
  
"No, you didn't!" Duo said, clinging to him. "I mean, not really, just the norm, but you didn't give me a chance to get used to it, y'know. You weren't really hurting me, I swear."  
  
"I saw your face," Heero whispered.  
  
"That's normal. It always stings a little 'til you get it all in and we both get used to it and get it on! You gotta believe me. It's normal! But you weren't ready, were you? You flashed back. God, I'm so fucking sorry!"  
  
This was bad. Heero had flashed back and he'd panicked and now Duo was scared and blaming himself. Very bad.  
  
Heero sat up and gathered Duo close, stroking his hair and rocking him. "It's all right, love. I think this is what Dr. Batoosingh was trying to warn us about. But it's all right. It will get better. I'll get past this. I will, I promise!"  
  
Duo wiped his face on the sheet. "What if you don't?" he asked in small, miserable voice. "What if I've totally screwed it all up?"  
  
"You didn't. I'm just--I'm just not at a hundred percent yet, and--that night. It was like--that night."  
  
"No, it wasn't!" Duo whispered, wrapping his arms around him again. "It was nothing like that night. I was here, with you, every step of the way and I wanted you! I wanted you in me so bad!"  
  
"I failed you."  
  
"Can we lie down for a minute. I don't think arguing about who was wrong is helping."  
  
Heero stretched out and let Duo pull the bedclothes over them both. When Duo tried to lie down a little apart from him Heero reached for him and pulled him close, tangling his fingers in that long hair. "I love you, Duo. I really do, and I want to make love to you like that. I know you want it. Just--just help me work through this, please?"  
  
"You know I will, baby. Whatever you need."  
  
They lay together like that for a long time as Heero tried to sort out what it was that he did need. His greatest fear was that if they let this stay as it was, Duo would be too fearful to touch him again for a long time. Maybe even need therapy to get past it. Or he would. Heero groaned inwardly at the thought of telling anyone, even Dr. Batoosingh, who had heard so much from Duo already, apparently, the embarrassing details of this debacle.   
  
No. He would fix this himself. A new version of mission mode stole over him, stilling his mind and settling out his racing heartbeat.   
  
"Heero?" Duo still sounded miserable and scared.   
  
Heero kissed him. "It's all right, Duo. I have a plan.  
  
"A plan?"  
  
"Yes. I just need some fresh supplies. I'm going to make a call." Duo let go and Heero got out of bed and walked over to the phone on the dining table. "Hello, kitchen. Yes, this is Mr. Yuy. If it's not too late, could I please place another order? Thank you." He flipped the menu open to the last few pages. "I would like a dish of fresh raspberries in cream, the Sanque chocolate sampler, and a bottle of whiskey. No, blended if you have it. Yes, that will be fine."  
  
"Whisky, Heero?"  
  
"I find it useful in small amounts. It calms the nerves and relaxes the muscles." He climbed back into bed and pulled Duo back on top of him again. Brushing his hair to one side, he slowly massaged the tense muscles of Duo's shoulders and neck.  
  
"I should be doing this for you!" Duo exclaimed, trying to move off him.  
  
"No, let me do this. I scared you badly."  
  
"You're the one who flashed!"  
  
"I'm feeling much better. I have identified the problem, formulated a course of action, and am now implementing it."  
  
"Jesus, you're on a mission!"  
  
Heero worked his fingers down either side of Duo's spine. "Yes, and you are my wing man."  
  
He'd worked his way down to Duo's buttocks when a knock came at the door. Heero went to answer it.  
  
"Heero! Robe! Sheesh, haven't we scandalized the staff enough already?"  
  
Grinning, Heero found the brown silk kimono and pulled it on. He opened the door partway, blocking the view in the room. The same nervous young man who'd delivered their dinner stood outside with a silver tray holding the ordered items. Someone had added a red rose in a crystal vase. Heero thanked the man and took the tray. As he turned back into the room he found Duo, still naked, just behind the door. Heero hadn't heard him move. He closed the door and turned the lock as Heero carried the tray to the bed.   
  
"Good job, wing man."  
  
"Like I said, we don't need an audience."  
  
Heero let the robe fall and sat down on the bed, then poured two small shots of the expensive whiskey. "Come here, love. Have a bedtime snack with me."  
  
Duo settled beside him, still looking concerned, but accepted the drink and downed it in a gulp. "Whoo! Good stuff! Do I get another?"  
  
"Not yet." Heero picked up one of the small, exquisitely molded Sanque chocolates and popped it into Duo's mouth, then picked up the bowl of raspberries and offered him a spoonful of berries and cream to go with the sweet. Duo accepted it, then closed his eyes in rapt delight as he chewed slowly. "Wow. Good! Where'd you learn this one?"  
  
"Nowhere. It just seemed like a suitable combination. Chocolate has sugar for energy and endorphin properties. The berries and cream, in addition to being pleasing complimentary flavors, add extra fast burning carbs."  
  
"Ah, very romantic, in a logical sort of way. And the whiskey?"  
  
"I like whiskey. It's very warming."  
  
Heero downed his shot, then let Duo feed him a chocolate and a spoonful berries. It was very good, something to be repeated.   
  
A small card had come with the chocolates, explaining the designs and their fillings. Some were caramels, like the one Heero had just eaten. Others were filled with sweet liqueurs, and different berries in sugary liquid syrups. This offered certain opportunities. Heero had always been extremely good at altering a mission to take advantage of local resources.  
  
"Those are good," Duo said, sounding calmer now, and even a little flirty again as he asked, "May I have another?"  
  
"Yes." Heero chose a liqueur-filled one and traced Duo's lips with it, teasing him a little before letting him have it. Duo took it between his lips and flicked Heero's fingers with the pink tip of his tongue. The whiskey was doing its work. His cheeks were flushed again and his eyes were getting that soft, amorous shine again.   
  
"I think I'd like another one, too." Heero caught Duo's wrist as he reached for the tray. "No, no hands. Lie down."  
  
Duo stretched out on his back, then let out a startled giggle as Heero placed a liqueur-filled chocolate on each of his nipples. Starting with the closest one, he placed his mouth around the chocolate, lips against Duo's skin, and worked his tongue over it, melting the outer shell. Duo caught his breath and lay very still. Heero bit into the confection, cracking it. Thick red liqueur spread around the nipple, trickling into the hollow of Duo's chest and down his side. Heero quickly licked away the errant drops, then more slowly worked the melting chocolate over the stiffened nipple, swirling his tongue until Duo's skin was damp and more or less clean.  
  
"Heeeeeero!"  
  
"Mmmm. Yes?"  
  
"I should be doing this to you!"  
  
"You can, later. I'm not finished with you yet."  
  
"Oh god!"  
  
Heero popped a fruit-filled candy into Duo's mouth, then went to work on the other chocolate, which was already softened from the heat of Duo's skin. Duo was squirming under him before he was done. Heero fed him another spoonful of berries, then one more small nip of whiskey. Heero had already had enough. He felt warm and relaxed and ready to proceed to the next and riskiest step of his plan.  
  
"Duo?"  
  
"Mmmmmmm!"  
  
"I love you."  
  
Duo opened his eyes and gazed up at him. "Love you!"  
  
"I want you to make love to me."  
  
Duo blinked. "And by make love you mean?  
  
"You're experienced at penetration, right?"  
  
"Yeah, but--"  
  
"And I'm betting you are very good at it. I want you to teach me. Show me how."  
  
"By--by doing you?"  
  
Heero kissed him. Duo tasted nicely of chocolate and whiskey. "Yes. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to take your time and show me every way you can think of to make it very, very good. I've always found direct experience is the most efficient way to learn a new skill."  
  
"Are you sure about this? I mean, with what just happened and all?"  
  
"I'm terrified of hurting you, Duo. Mostly because I've never done it, and don't know how it would feel, how it should feel for my partner. If I experience it for myself with you, then I will have more confidence when I attempt it again. I will have some idea of what you are feeling and be better able to read your reactions."  
  
Duo closed his eyes for a moment and let out a shaky breath. "You're sure about this? I mean, that night in the silo isn't exactly the only issue you're dealing with, right? What if you flash back to--something else?"  
  
"Then you will be here to comfort me and bring me back to safety, just as you did a little while ago."   
  
Duo still hesitated, but Heero could see he was aroused, as well. "And you don't think we should maybe talk to the Doc about this first?"  
  
"That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid," Heero admitted. "I don't want to have to sit and explain this. And I could not ask such a favor of anyone else but you. Please, Duo, I need you. As you said, I want you, and only you."  
  
Duo let out a breathy sigh. "Well, if you're absolutely sure."  
  
"I am. Thank you." Heero kissed him again, snagged another chocolate from the tray, and lay down on his back.   
  
"You're not hard," Duo noted, kneeling between his legs.  
  
"Do I need to be?"  
  
"I guess not. But I want you to enjoy this, Heero."  
  
"I will. Just let things happen as they will."  
  
"All right, then." Duo leaned down and kissed him. Heero reached between them and ran his fingers over Duo's cock. It was hard and ready. Heero found a drop of precum at the tip and smoothed it around with one fingertip. Duo moaned into his mouth. Encouraged, Heero reached back and gave his balls a gentle squeeze. His own cock responded to the brush of Duo's against it and he arched a little, letting Duo feel the slight stirring there.  
  
Duo took his time, kissing his way down Heero's neck and chest, pausing to lick his nipples, then down his belly for a quick flick into his navel that make Heero let out a very uncharacteristic sound that was dangerously close to a giggle. Then Duo was massaging his sides, his hips and thighs, moving them wider apart and working warm hands up his inner thighs to caress his balls. Duo's mouth found his limp cock. Sucking it gently into his mouth, he worked the soft flesh with lips and tongue until it was stiff and throbbing. Heero moaned deep in his chest, glad to feel the warm waves of pleasure spreading out through him like the whiskey fire earlier. He would go through with this, no matter what, but wasn't at all averse to enjoying it, as well.   
  
He didn't really know what to expect of his body; he'd never actually considered letting anyone, even Duo, do this to him, but he was convinced it was necessary at least this once, for his own peace of mind.  
  
Duo released his cock and licked his balls, then cupped them in his hand as he licked lower and lower, until he was teasing Heero's opening.   
  
'Rimming,' Heero's research voice noted. He hadn't been impressed with what he'd read, but the experience was quite something else. Hardly realizing what he was doing, he spread his legs wider, letting Duo do whatever he wanted.   
  
The sensations intensified, then stopped. He was about to protest when he felt a lubricated finger exploring his opening. Ah. Showtime.  
  
He did has Duo had done, breathing deeply though his mouth, concentrating on relaxing as Duo stretched and slicked him in preparation. Just like yesterday, he felt no discomfort, only a deep sense of pleasure at the odd intrusion. He lost track of how many fingers Duo was using; it didn't matter. It just felt good. And better, shockingly so, as Duo found and massaged his prostate.   
  
Heero gasped and opened his eyes. "Oh, that's good. Really good! But I'd rather wait until you're inside to come."  
  
"You got it, baby. Ready?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Duo leaned over for another kiss, and Heero felt the blunt, slick tip of Duo's cock pressing into him. Duo wasn't quite as thick as he was. It slid in rather easily. It did burn a little, but that was nothing compared to the spreading pleasure of feeling that hard, hot flesh pressing deeper, spreading the most secret reaches of his body for entry. Duo broke the kiss and looked down at him, trying to read his reaction.  
  
"So good!" Heero whispered. "Never imagined-- So fucking good!"  
  
"I'm glad to hear--" Duo caught his breath again, panting as he slowly began to thrust in and out, working still deeper. "Oh, I'm so glad you like this 'cause you are fucking amazing!"  
  
A moment more and Duo was in all the way. Heero felt balls pressed to his and that sent another bolt of pleasure through him. It was hard to keep his eyes open, but he forced himself to, looking up into Duo's eyes. "I want more. What should I do?"  
  
Duo's eyes were smoldering now, and Heero could tell he was getting lost in the pleasure of it all. That was fine with Heero. He did want more. Lots more!  
  
"I want you to fuck me, Duo. Show me how good it can be!"  
  
Duo let out a hoarse cry. Pulling Heero's legs up over his shoulders, he plunged even deeper, and suddenly the head of his cock was hitting Heero's prostate just right.  
  
Heero grasped at Duo's knees and rocked up, meeting each thrust willingly, wanting Duo deeper inside. He was on fire now, every fiber in his body alive and responding to the actions of that other body pounding into him. He was panting and crying out now, unable to help it and not really caring.   
  
"Oh god Heero!" Duo cried out, gripping Heero's thighs and thrusting harder, faster. "So close, baby. You're so hot, so tight! Virgin baby! Sweet, sweet tight little . . . "  
  
Heero watched in amazement. Duo's head was thrown back, hair wild around him, mouth open and gasping obscene, inchoherent endearments. Heero had never seen anything more erotic and beautiful than this. He was close himself, hovering right on the edge and flying. When Duo's hand wrapped around his cock and that hard head slammed past his prostate at the same moment Heero came harder than he ever had in his life, yelling Duo's name and that he loved him and that he was his, all his.   
  
And Duo was answering in loud, sobbing cries, joining in the shouted duet of raw passion as they drove each other to boneless collapse.   
  
Lying tangled in the sheets afterwards, both of them sticky with sweat and chocolate and semen, Heero knew his plan had been a good one. Nothing could have been more therapeutic than this.  
  
"Heero!" Duo gasped, seeking his face blindly with his hand.  
  
"Yes, Duo."  
  
"Heero!"  
  
Heero caught the hand and brought it to his lips. "What? I'm right here."  
  
"My Heero!" Duo sighed, cuddling close and tucking his head in under Heero's chin.   
  
"All yours, Duo."  
  
"All mine. God, you are so fantastic!"  
  
"I never imagined it would feel so good. You are in incredibly talented lover, Duo."   
  
  
"Hey, I'm only as good as my partner. And you have officially ruined me for ever wanting anyone ever again."  
  
"Are you certain of that? We don't know if I'll be as good for you."  
  
Duo snuggled closer, already half asleep. "Fuck me, --ro. Wan' you. Want it so baaaaad!"  
  
"Rest first. We've got lots of time."  
  
"Mmmm yeah! Hours and hours 'n hours . . ."  
  
And he was out, snoring softly against Heero's chest. Heero found the blankets and pulled them up, then smoothed Duo's disheveled hair. 'I want you too, love,' he thought, sinking contentedly into sleep. 'I can't imagine ever getting enough of you!'  
  
\+   
  
When Heero woke two hours later the candles had burned out and the room was dark except for the glow of the clock. He felt surprisingly rested. Duo was a warm, heavy weight against his left side. Heero stroked him, letting the lack of sight enhance his other senses.  
  
Duo was very warm and very smooth. His skin was supple over lean hard muscles and the jut of his hipbone. His cock was half erect, too, and jumped in Heero's hand as he lightly toyed with it.  
  
"Mmmm, yeah!" he murmured, pressing against Heero in his sleep. His breath still smelled faintly of whiskey and chocolate. They both reeked of sex.  
  
Duo mumbled a nonsensical complaint but didn't wake when Heero left the bed.   
  
Padding into the bathroom, he shut the door before turning on the lights. He turned on the taps in the tub, then went to the toilet to empty his bladder. As he washed his hands and brushed his teeth afterwards he studied his face in the mirror.   
  
"You look like someone who just got fucked and really liked it!" he whispered, grinning at himself. He did look different somehow, in a good way. Healthier, too. His face had more color than before, and his eyes and cheeks looked less sunken. Good food and good sex equaled good medicine. He liked that equation. Now, if his mind and body would just cooperate for one more important operation.  
  
He perused the bath salts, and chose one that wasn't overpoweringly scented. Stirring in a handful, he tested the water, adjusted the taps slightly, and went to wake Duo.  
  
The light from the bathroom revealed Duo sprawled on his back now, one arm thrown across Heero's pillow. His other hand rested over his cock, fingers twitching slightly in some dream.   
  
Heero plucked the rose from the vase on the tray and ran the soft petals across Duo's lips and down his chest to the tip of the cock peeking out between his fingers. "Wake up, little mermaid. Time for that bath I promised."  
  
Duo's eyes stayed shut, but his lips quirked into a wry grin. "Can't fucking believe you call me that!"  
  
Heero chuckled, tickling him with the rose until Duo sat up and grabbed for it. "You'll have to walk to the water this time. I'm not up to carrying you yet."  
  
Duo bounced over to the edge of the mattress. Grabbing the bowl of berries, he devoured several spoonfuls hungrily, then passed the rest to Heero. "Keep your strength up, lover. You wake me out of a potential wet dream, you gotta make it up to me somehow."  
  
Heero slurped down the last of the berry-stained cream. "Oh, I intend to."  
  
Duo piled his hair up again with the picks and pencils and soaked happily in Heero's arms. "You realize we are totally spoiled rotten now. How are we gonna survive in the cold, cruel world after all this?"  
  
"Consider it a honeymoon, as you said to the man on the phone earlier."  
  
"No, you can't have a honeymoon if you don't get married first. This is just a naughty getaway."  
  
"I see." Heero used a washcloth to scrub the last traces of their earlier lovemaking from Duo's face and chest. Pushing his bangs back with his fingers, he found the faint scar near the hairline.   
  
"This is a definite step up from that first bath you gave me," Duo told him, reading his thoughts.  
  
"Yes, in so many ways. I didn't understand the feelings I had then, or know then how much I wanted to be your lover."  
  
Duo chuckled, sending little ripples out across the steaming water. "Mermaid lover!"  
  
Heero kissed his neck. "Yes, my own private mermaid."  
  
"Actually, I think the word is merman."  
  
"Hn. No, I like mermaid better."  
  
"Mer-maid? Girl? Mer-man. Man."  
  
"I don't think of it like that. It is simply a word describing a beautiful, graceful, sometimes wicked mythical water being. You are my mermaid, Maxwell. Get used to it."  
  
"Maxwell!" Duo turned to glare at him in mock outrage. "We're back to that, are we? Maxwell? Fuck!"  
  
"Duo. Duo, my beautiful, foul-mouthed, kinky mermaid lover."  
  
"That's more like it! Guess you can keep me, after all."  
  
Heero tightened his arms around him. "I plan to."  
  
"So? You still wanna?"  
  
"Yes, if you do."  
  
Duo wiggled his backside against Heero's lap. "You know I do!"  
  
When they'd dried each other, Heero went to the sink and found the eyeliner. He held it out to Duo, and raised an eyebrow. Grinning, Duo took it and deftly outlined his eyes again, making the lines a little heavier this time, and accenting the tilt of his eyes.   
  
"How's that?" he asked, leaning back against the sink.  
  
"I will be glad when I am strong enough to sweep you up in my arms again and carry you to the bed. Because that's what I feel like doing right now."  
  
"Ooooo, caveman style. I could get into that! You just guaranteed yourself a workout buddy for life, my friend." Grinning, Duo took his hand and pulled Heero back to the bed. Heero poured them both another shot and they downed them, then shifted to the far side of the bed, away from the various wet spots and food stains.  
  
"Big beds are good. Sex is messier without condoms," Duo remarked, stretching out and holding his arms out for Heero.   
  
"Yes, but much better."  
  
"Copy that!"  
  
Heero's erection did not flag this time as he slicked himself and Duo and positioned himself between his lover's legs.   
  
"Look at me, Heero," Duo said in a low, sexy voice. "I want you. I absolutely, positively, no holds barred want you inside me. I don't want to leave this room until I've felt you come deep inside me."  
  
"I love you, Duo. I'll make it good this time."  
  
"Just have fun. Don't worry about anything else. You know how good it feels, right?"  
  
"Yes, but you don't. Not yet."  
  
"Show me, lover!"  
  
And Heero did. Both of them were relaxed from the bath and the whiskey and the sex earlier. Everything just seemed to flow naturally this time, and suddenly Heero found himself sheathed to the balls in Duo's body, lost in a hot tightness beyond any imagining. "Ah Duo! Oh!"  
  
"More, baby. I want more," Duo moaned, wrapping those long legs around Heero's waist and pulling him in deeper. "Give it to me, Heero. Give me all you got!"  
  
And Heero did. He wanted to feel more in control, to take more care for Duo's pleasure, but all he could do was gaze down into that rapt, pleasure-filled face and let his body do what it wanted.   
  
It lasted longer for both of them this time, but they still arrived together, gasping each other's names as Duo's semen shot out over Heero's pumping fist. With a final grunting thrust, Heero collapsed beside him. "I don't think I can move!"  
  
Duo glanced over at the clock. "It's only 2:30, and neither of us has anywhere to be, right? No early appointments?"  
  
"Relena may be arriving."  
  
"Yeah, but who knows when she'll show up."  
  
"Mmm." Too sleepy and satisfied to care, Heero spooned in behind Duo and fell asleep.  
  
+  
  
Relena hurried the last meeting with the L-1 ambassadors, cancelled a press meeting, and was back on her private launch before dinner. She tried to sleep, knowing she'd be arriving very early, but she was just too excited. Oh, it was true that things had never quite worked out between Heero and her the way she'd hoped, but now she had another chance! She'd kept his secrets, done as he'd asked, and thank god, he was alive after all. Alive and ill and in need of all the care and support it was in her considerable power to offer. Hector's reports and those from the Spanish doctor were encouraging. With the proper care and pampering, he would be well again, perhaps even better and happier than ever, if the psychiatrists' reports were true.   
  
She was glad his friends had been with him these past few days. Oh, she'd been hurt, certainly, when he told her not to come, and then invited them, but that was understandable, she supposed. He really had wanted to evade the press and there was no way she, Relena Peacecraft, could travel incognito like those four scruffy ex-terrorists. Well, Captain Wufei wasn't scruffy, certainly. In fact, he shared a certain hard-edged charm with Heero that she'd always found most intriguing, but the others? Even the Winner boy, who should have been raised better, had gone to pieces after the war. It was shameful, the things they made headlines doing! Not that she wasn't grateful for all they'd done during the war; any of them was welcome to join her staff at any time, if only they'd agree to behave with the proper decorum.  
  
She finally gave up any pretense of sleep and spent the last hours of the flight freshening up and making out a detailed itinerary for her visit with Heero. He must rest, of course, and undergo the prescribed therapies, but there would be time for excursions and riding on the grounds. Once he was under her protection, those dreadful reporters could be kept under control and her poor Heero could relax and heal.  
  
Hector met her with the embassy limo at the lift port.   
  
"So, how is he doing?"  
  
"Very well, as far as I can tell," her cousin replied. "He's seen the doctors and used the fitness room, but otherwise he's remained in his room. They all have."  
  
"They must be exhausted, after so much stress and excitement, the poor boys!"  
  
"They are--unusual. Have you noticed--"   
  
"They had to be, didn't they, to be the heroes they were!" Relena said.   
  
"They seem to have remained very close."  
  
"I suppose so." That could change, she thought, after the initial excitement of Heero's return had worn off. After all, when the war ended, he'd come to her, not them. And once he understood fully how the others had changed?  
  
Arriving at the embassy, Relena waved cheerfully at the reporters lurking at the gates, then bustled inside.   
  
"Have the boys come down yet, Seaton?" she asked the major domo.  
  
"No, your Highness. There's been no sign of any of them as yet."  
  
"Then Heero hasn't breakfasted yet?"  
  
"No, your Highness."  
  
"Oh, but that's too perfect!" she exclaimed happily. "Have a tray prepared. I'll take it in to him myself."  
  
"Perhaps I should send someone to wake him, Highness, and inform him of your arrival?"   
  
"No, no! I want to surprise him! See to it that no one disturbs him, Seaton."  
  
"As you wish, Highness."  
  
So it was, shortly thereafter, that Relena Peacecraft found herself outside Heero-her Heero's! bedchamber with a breakfast tray, barely able to contain her excitement as the footman unlocked the door.  
  
It was very dark inside. The heavy velvet drapes were still tightly drawn and hardly any light came in around them. Tiptoeing around the bed, she headed for the table by the window to set down the tray. She was careful not to rattle the cups and saucers as she placed it next to the remains of the previous night's meal. There was no sign of movement or sound from the bed. In this light she could make out no more than an indistinct lump under the covers near the edge of the bed closest to her, and the hint of dark hair against the pillows. She clutched her gloved hands together for a moment, shivering with anticipation, then threw the drapes wide and cried out, "Wake up, sleepyhead and join me for breakfast!"  
  
Morning light fell across the bed, illuminating very clearly-- and quite literally, too-- the fact that Heero was not alone in the bed. Oh it was he, alright, blinking stupidly at her as he tried to sit up. But his bedmate, a woman with ridiculously long chestnut hair and sinfully fair skin, if the bared shoulder and long expanse of back were anything to go by--this unexpected stranger was still wrapped around him like a wanton and he couldn't quite free himself from the harpy's embrace.  
  
"Heero!" Relena gasped out.  
  
"Relena?" Heero mumbled, still blinking very stupidly with the sun in his eyes. The woman was awake now too, peering at Relena over the edge of the comforter with huge, overly made-up eyes. A whore. A common whore!  
  
"I do not believe this!" Relena shouted angrily, already dangerously close to tears. "After all I've done for you all this time! The arrangements and the doctors and--and this!" Her gaze fell on the tray by the bed--the expensive delicacies and the whiskey and two telltale glasses, the wilted red rose! "After all that! And this is how you thank me? I, Relena Peacecraft! arrive prepared to serve you breakfast in bed and find this--this-common, painted _slut_ in your bed!"  
  
The harlot sat up, brazenly shaking that appallingly shiny hair back, letting the comforter slip down in the most wanton, heedless, disrespectful manner as she leaned on Heero's shoulder and said, "Oi, I'm not just any painted slut! "  
  
Those eyes! That grin! That decidedly unwomanly chest and voice! Relena clutched the edge of the table behind her and gaped. "Duo?"  
  
"And a cheery good morning to you, too, 'lena!"   
  
He appeared so perfectly comfortable with this appallingly embarrassing situation that for an instant Relena wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake. But one look at Heero, now fully awake, glaring, and blushing furiously, disabused her of that notion. This was _exactly_ what it looked like!   
  
And the footman was still there at the door, waiting for further orders. And, god help her, there stood Quatre and Trowa, looking just as guilty as Heero!  
  
Words failed her. Falling back on her dignity, Relena Peacecraft spared Heero Yuy one last, wrathful glance and strode from the room, head held high, secure in the knowledge that she, not he, was the injured party here.  
  
+  
  
"Fucking hell!" Duo exclaimed to no one in particular, falling back against the pillows. "Every time we get in bed together people climb in through the fucking windows to get a glimpse. Jesus!"  
  
"The door was locked," Heero mumbled, still looking shell-shocked.   
  
"I know! I locked it myself. But noooooooo! In waltzes the Queen of the Goddamned World with breakfast, all the same. Fuck!"  
  
"You guys OK?" Quatre asked from the still open doorway.  
  
"Hell yes!" Duo snapped. "Want some coffee? And scones. Look, we got scones!"  
  
"Hn." Heero sounded firmly back in mission mode now as he pushed back the covers and looked around for his discarded robe. "I think perhaps we'll be needing somewhere else to stay."


	21. Upstairs, Downstairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

"They're not!"  
  
"They are! I carried their bags up myself and saw it."  
  
"Come on, Carlos. You're talking about the tall one with the hair hanging down in his face and the little blond with the dye job? Everyone knows about them! They're married, for god's sake."  
  
"No, I'm bloody well not, Maria. The other two--that pretty dish, Maxwell, with the braid and angel's eyes? And Capitan Yuy himself. They are together in the Blue Suite. I carried their bags in."  
  
"Capitan Yuy? No, I will not believe it! He is ill, and they are friends, that's all."  
  
The speculation below stairs began the moment the five ex-Gundam pilots arrived at the embassy. Apart from the general drama of their arrival, the unusual young men were a welcome change from the stuffy diplomats and spoiled potentates who were their usual charges. Among the younger servants they had almost rock star standing. Everyone had their favorite, and not a few had a magazine clipping or two taped to their dressing table mirror, or even a scrapbook.   
  
And there was also the matter of Captain Yuy's resurrection. All of Sanque Kingdom and her embassies worldwide had observed a day of national mourning and flown flags at half-mast when the news of his supposed suicide had broken. Relena Peacecraft had issued a very touching official statement, remembering her friend and savior.  
  
That all five of the famous Gundam Boys should be here under the same roof, even that dour, elusive Chinese pilot, caused a stir in every branch of the household, but nowhere more than the kitchens.  
  
Their guests took no notice, of course, but their chambers were soon rather suddenly overstocked with towels and other deliverables, as every maid and footman found an excuse to visit the third floor in hope of a glimpse. Any request from those rooms was relayed like breaking news.  
  
Guilliardo, the butler, was held in high esteem by the younger staff for many reasons, not the least of which being his ability to read room service orders like Rorschach blots. The first night the five guests dined together in the Gold Suite, occupied by the Winner-Bartons. "Simple Spanish fare and two bottles of white wine? A meal among friends, nothing more." He and Carlos returned with confirmation of this, although all but Capitan Chang were seen lounging in house robes.  
  
Capitan Chang took his leave around ten and the night security guard for that floor grudgingly reported that Yuy and Maxwell withdrew to the Blue Suite soon after. The guard, a Sanquese of great discretion named Maquiller, would allow no listening at doors and refused the next morning to say if he'd heard anything untoward. He never gossiped among the common servants below stairs.   
  
Carlos had chanced to linger in the servant's passage stairwell, however, and swore he'd heard cries of youthful passion.  
  
"It was only the television," Maquiller maintained, and little Maria and several others with crushes on one boy or the other staunchly took his side in the matter.  
  
+  
  
The following morning Maxwell ordered breakfast for four, but the Winner-Bartons did not leave their room until much later. The chambermaids came back downstairs from their morning rounds giggling and blushing, reporting that that door was still locked and that the reason was very apparent.  
  
"In the morning!" Constanza exclaimed, blushing behind her hands.   
  
"Eh! They are colonials," Carlos said, as if that explained everything.   
  
+  
  
The day passed quietly otherwise; their handsome young guests availed themselves of the fitness center that afternoon, and comported themselves like young gentlemen, according to the staff there.   
  
The chambermaids who did up the rooms while they were gone, however, had come back blushing again. There was no question that Winner and Barton were very much in love; the sheets bore witness and had to be changed. Yuy and Maxwell had most certainly shared the bed in Blue, though what they had done beyond sleep only Maquiller knew and the man was a sphinx.   
  
That evening Guilliardo puzzled over the supper tray the night chef had arranged for the Blue Suite.   
  
"Lobster salad and fresh fruit for two. But no wine?" he murmured, straightening the gleaming silverware and polishing one of the stemmed crystal glasses on his sleeve.  
  
"Well, what does it mean?" young Carlos demanded. "Is this the meal of lovers or friends?"  
  
"It is an odd choice, to be sure, given their age. Difficult to say."   
  
"But it's lobster!" the chef exclaimed. "Give them a few candles to enjoy it by, whatever the case." She already had a soft spot for the pair.  
  
On the other hand, Gold Suite had ordered pizza, beer, and ice cream, as well as two movie disks: one comedy, one Americal Western. "There will be no lovemaking in the Gold Suite tonight," Guilliardo pronounced, arranging the cart with care.   
  
Carlos claimed the Blue Suite cart and rolled it to the elevator. He returned with word that both young men were already in a state of undress, and that Duo Maxwell's toenails were painted a very attractive shade of bluish green, nearly the same shade as his own motorbike.   
  
"You should keep your eyes to yourself!" Maria scolded.  
  
Carlos laughed. "They did not even know I was in the room!"   
  
That night half a dozen of the younger servants, and, to her shame, the night chef, set up a listening post in the stairwell. Bets were placed, with odds running strongly in favor of amor. Amor won, loudly, clearly, and at length. Names were shouted and moaned, leaving little doubt as to who was involved.   
  
The night chef fanned herself as she hustled the younger staff back to the kitchen. Guilliardo sniffed at such vulgar behavior among the staff, but Carlos, now quite puffed and full of himself, claimed it was pique on the butler's part for having been baffled by the order, and for having lost his bet. Ensalada de la langosta for two? Having seen Maxwell's toenails himself, what else could such an order have meant?   
  
When the concierge called just before midnight with another order for the Blue Suite, everyone gathered around. The most expensive chocolates and fresh fruit at this hour? This one was unequivocal, even with the strange choice of whiskey.   
  
"They are young!" Guilliardo said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"And colonials," Carlos reminded him. One never knew what the wild spacers would do. "We could send up the champagne instead, and claim it was a mistake."   
  
But Guilliardo, a man of long experience and great wisdom in such matters, shook his head and sighed, "Chacun a son gout!"**  
  
The night chef, a champion of young love, made Carlos wait while she sent Constanza out to the garden with a pair of shears. The girl returned with a perfect red rose, which the chef kissed and placed in a crystal vase. "To bring them great passion, and luck!" she laughed, letting all the young ones smell it before setting it on the tray next to the whiskey bottle.  
  
"If they are ordering the Sanque chocolates at this hour, and after what we heard already, perhaps no rose is needed," Carlos smirked, carrying it away.  
  
He did not come back for some time, and Guilliardo was about to go looking when a disapproving Senor Maquiller escorted Carlos, all flushed and breathless, into the kitchen. The young footman had been caught lingering upstairs and been roundly lectured on the sanctity of a guest's privacy. Faced with the dark looks of Guilliardo and Maquiller, he would only say, "Senor Yuy, he is a god!"   
  
Among the under staff that night, some spent the night in fevered fantasies, while others tearfully peeled photographs from their mirrors and cast them away in despair, illusions shattered. The chef slept with a red rose on her pillow and dreamt of her husband, dead these ten years.   
  
Carlos did not sleep at all. And so it was, thanks to his gossiping with the night staff on duty in the lobby, that old Seaton already had some idea of the situation when Princess Relena arrived. Carlos watched in horror as the elderly major domo, and even the under ambassador himself tactfully tried to head her off, but it was not to be. Carlos therefore made it his business to be available with the room key, and to be in position to view the inevitable explosion when the princess threw open the draperies and scattered any lingering doubts anyone might have had as to the true state of affairs in the Blue Suite.  
  
Carlos was treated to a brief glimpse of that state of affairs before Senor Barton sent him scurrying with a glare and a growl. But it was enough for him to be the reigning star of the night kitchen that evening as he gleefully reenacted the scene for his companions over and over again at their insistence. "Capitan Yuy! He is in the bed, a face of stone! As if she is a fly that has gotten into the room to annoy him. And the princess!" Carlos here pushed his voice to the falsetto range as he recounted the invectives she'd hurled at the unlucky couple, and struck a stance of such horror that all the chambermaids collapsed with tears of laughter, even the formerly heartbroken Maria. Old Seaton smiled and muttered into his coffee, "I did try to warn her!" Relena had done little over her tenure to endear herself with the staff.  
  
But Carlos' greatest efforts were reserved for his portrayal of his own favorite, Maxwell. "A face so beautiful! Like a fallen angel, he is, with his eyes painted like an Egyptian. Ah, but he has the bravado of a pimp, and the mouth of a puta! 'I am not just any painted slut' he says, to the woman who stands there with murder in her eyes. Ah, he has the heart of a torero! And the princess, gasping now like a landed fish! Oh, madre dulce del dios! I thought Senor Barton would cut out my heart when he saw me standing there, but it was worth it to see such a thing!"  
  
+  
  
Meanwhile, above stairs:  
  
Heero hesitated, one hand raised to knock at the door the old man had directed him to. An office of some sort, apparently, on the first floor. He hesitated not because he was nervous; far from it. They had locked the door. She had forced her way in. There was no fault on his side.   
  
No, it was the prospect of dealing with Relena's scattergun emotions. That had always made him extremely uncomfortable. She was an intelligent person, and a very brave one when the situation called for it. But her emotions too often ruled her head, and not in any way that Heero could fathom. He had never understood why she would go to the lengths she had over the years to be near him, only to act in the most irrational and unhappy manner once she was there. This was simply another case in point.   
  
He knocked.  
  
"Who is it?" she demanded, sounding rather muffled.  
  
"Heero."  
  
"Go away!"  
  
That was clear enough. Heero turned to go. He'd gotten no more than a few steps, however when the door behind him was forcefully opened. "Where do you think you're going?" she demanded.  
  
Heero turned back and regarded her with some confusion. "You told me to go away."  
  
"And so you did, just like that?" Relena gave him one of those looks, as if he was the one who'd said something totally illogical. "Get in here. We need to talk."  
  
Heero sighed and did as she asked. Or rather, ordered. She had been his superior once, and old habits died hard.   
  
They needed to talk. That's what Quatre had said when he'd made Heero come on this fools' errand. Heero would have ignored the advice from any of the others, but Quatre hadbeen so distressed by the scene upstairs that Heero had grudgingly agreed, if only for 04s peace of mind. No one suffered like Quatre.   
  
"Well, at least you're dressed now." Her tone suggested more than simple surprise. So much more, in fact, that he was suddenly glad he'd listened to Duo and not simply thrown on the silk robe to follow her. It was a tone that made him glad his genitals were well covered, and that he was wearing shoes he could run in.   
  
He was beginning to feel quite nervous, and more so every moment the ominous silence stretched out between them. Perhaps it was the lingering weakness of his illness. There was clearly nothing to fear physically and damn it, he'd done nothing wrong!  
  
The room Relena had chosen to take her stand in was an opulent office, with elaborate furnishings that included a desk large enough to serve a banquet from and a glass fronted liquor cabinet. She went to the desk and sat down, choosing the position of power. It was a calculated move. He, in turn, went to the liquor cabinet and poured two whiskeys. He brought her one, and sat down with his own in the chair across the desk.   
  
She stared at her glass. "Heero, it's not even eight o'clock yet."  
  
"I thought it might calm you. You appear to be very distressed."  
  
"And why wouldn't I be!"  
  
"Why should you be?" Heero countered, increasingly baffled.  
  
"Why? Why should I be? I arrive to find you in bed with Duo Maxwell-naked! And you ask if I'm distressed?"  
  
"There's no need to shout. I'm right in front of you."  
  
"I'll shout if I like, Heero Yuy! I'll yell the house down! How can you be so cold? How can you sit there and look me in the eye so calmly, after that?"  
  
"I'm not angry with you, Relena."   
  
"You! You--cold blooded bastard!"  
  
Heero's reflexes were better than he'd given himself credit for. He hadn't anticipated her throwing the whiskey glass at his head. He ducked in time. Only the whiskey hit him. It was fortunate he was not wearing his new jacket. The sweater could be washed, and the jeans.  
  
"You bastard!" she said again, and now she was crying. "How can you sit there, being so-so-you! No, don't you dare answer. I know what you'll say and then I'll have to heave the fire irons at you!" She stared at him for a long moment, then leaned across the desk and took his untouched glass and downed it. It did appear to have the hoped-for effect. She was still crying, but calmer. "Heero, is it possible you really don't understand?" She waited, apparently expecting an answer.  
  
"I understand that you are upset. Apparently you were surprised by my relationship with Duo. Understandable, although I do not understand your level of response. However, I certainly would not have chosen to reveal it to you in such a manner. The door was locked-"  
  
This reasoned response only seemed to rile her up again. "A relationship? Is that what that was? You're back from the dead for all of what? Five days? And you're in a relationship? With Duo?"  
  
Why was she stating the obvious so emotionally?   
  
"After I covered for you?" She was getting more worked up by the moment. "After I kept your secret. After I arranged treatment-"  
  
Heero began to get a glimmer. "You were very kind, as always I agree. But I was not aware that that in any way obligated me to share with you the intimate details of my private life."  
  
"Are you saying you and Duo were-involved-before you left?"  
  
"Not to this degree."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And what?"   
  
"Oh, don't be tiresome! Are you saying that you just fell into each other's arms this week, just like that?"  
  
Heero considered this. "I fell in love with Duo during the war, I think. But I didn't have the perspective to understand my feelings. I do now."  
  
"You're in love with him?" Relena fell back in her chair, gone quite pale. "Since the war?"  
  
"Yes, I think it's accurate, in retrospect-"  
  
"And what about us?"  
  
Us? Relena and him? Relena and Duo? Duo had never mentioned any feelings for her. They'd seen very little of each other-  
  
"Dammit, Heero! Look at me! Don't just drift off like that. I love you! I've been throwing myself at you since we met! Doesn't that count for anything?"  
  
Heero blinked. "You love me?" She loved him. Duo loved him. Trowa 'had a thing' for him. Wufei was jealous. And there'd been a few odd looks from Quatre, too. The world was far more complex place than he'd ever guessed. Distracted, he caught a glancing blow on the shoulder from the empty glass she threw at him.   
  
"You didn't even notice?" she cried.  
  
"Notice what--? Oh. You? How would I know? You never told me."  
  
"Never told you? Good god, Heero. I offered to let you kill me! I changed schools to follow you! I chased after you even when you shamed me in front of my friends that time, tearing up my invitation like it was nothing! I nearly took a bullet for you! What did you think that meant?"  
  
"There was a war on, Relena. I had no idea what you were thinking, and had neither the time nor the inclination to figure it out. If you felt that way, you should have told me outright."  
  
"Would it have made a difference?"  
  
"Well, no. But I didn't even have time to consider Duo, and I already loved--"  
  
"Stop saying that!" Relena actually pressed her hands over her ears for a moment. Then she sat back again and smoothed her blonde coiffure. "You could at least have had the decency to have told me you're gay."  
  
"Gay?" Heero considered this. "I don't think it ever occurred to me that I was-am gay. I'm not sure I am, to be honest." Then again, there had been those odd moments of attraction to Trowa and Quatre, but he didn't know for certain that he couldn't feel that way toward some woman. He only knew he hadn't so far, including Relena. There didn't seem to be any question about that. But she was talking again. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"  
  
"I said, 'You're kidding me, right?'"  
  
Heero felt like he was wading into deep unknown waters, but he pressed on, explaining it to himself as much as to her as he went. "I love Duo for who he is. That was very important to me back then and it seems to be even more true now, even though he's changed in some ways. But I do-love him, that is, for being who he is. And so it seems that even if he was female, but with the same personality and basic appearance, and we had still shared all the same common experiences that we have, I would probably have the same feelings toward him-er, her. "  
  
Relena went quiet again. As usual, it did not last long. "Let me get this straight, Heero, if you'll pardon the expression. Did you or did you not have sex with Duo last night?"  
  
"I did. And the night before, and that previous afternoon-"  
  
"I get the picture, Heero, thank you! So you don't find his being male off-putting in any way?"  
  
"Not at all!" Heero realized he was grinning and tried to stop. It wasn't helping the situation. "Relena, would it upset you less if he was a girl?"  
  
"That's completely beside the point! I'd be less upset if you loved me! There, I said it. Was that plain enough for you, Mr. Yuy?"  
  
"But I don't."   
  
"Well, you don't need to be insulting about it!"  
  
"I didn't mean to be. I meant that I did not choose to love him, or anyone else. If that had been possible, I would no doubt have chosen not to love at all. I tried very hard to do exactly that for a very long time. It wasn't a logical decision, to love Duo, or a considered one. In fact, it makes no rational sense at all. He is unlike me in a number of highly significant ways. He has habits and mannerisms that at times bother me, and some that were downright distracting during the war. His manner toward me should have gotten him killed several times. And even if that had not been the case, it was ridiculous to entertain such feelings then, when either of us could have been killed at any moment, and neither of us could afford any distractions. And in addition, we were far too young and probably still are, to make any serious commitment. Yet it did happen and it seems we have, against all better judgment and training. And, now that I've accepted it, I can't imagine it being any other way. In fact, at this point I would find it most distressing if his feelings toward me changed. "  
  
"Quite the romantic, ain't he?"   
  
Neither of them had heard Duo slip in. He'd taken time to wash his face, braid his hair, and get dressed. He was wearing Heero's white Oxford untucked over his jeans. It was a little big on him. Heero wondered if this had been a calculated choice, a marking of territory. At the same time it struck him as a nicely intimate thing, Duo wearing his shirt, though he hadn't thought anything of the borrowed clothing he'd worn. Of course, that had been out of necessity, rather than choice.  
  
Duo walked over and sat on the arm of Heero's chair. "Sorry to just barge in like this-" he said, though his tone hinted otherwise. "I thought you two might need an interpreter. Guess I was wrong, though. That was quite a speech, baby. I couldn't have said it any better than that."  
  
"Baby?" Relena looked like she'd swallowed something unpleasant.  
  
"The heart wants what the heart wants," Heero added, remembering what Duo had said about Trowa.   
  
"Quit while you're ahead," Duo muttered.   
  
"Yes, you've made it very clear," Relena sighed. "Unfortunately, my heart wanted you. But that didn't matter, did it?" Now she just looked sad. Maybe the whiskey was working.   
  
"Even if you had told me, I don't think it would have changed anything," Heero agreed. "I never understood why you cared about me at all. I wasn't likeable, or sociable. I'm still not. I was rude to you, and threatening on more than one occasion. I never consciously gave you any encouragement. Did I?"  
  
Relena sighed again. "No, you didn't. Not even a little. He must have been different with you, Duo."  
  
Duo shrugged. "Rude? Anti-social? Threats of bodily harm? Sounds kinda familiar, actually. But yeah, I guess it was different."  
  
Relena stood and smoothed her dress. "Well, I've had my say and thrown a drink in your face. If I apologize for barging in on you, that should about cover it."  
  
"Hey, everyone else does!" Duo said. "We should probably just put up posters and sell tickets."  
  
"Duo." Heero caught his irrepressible friend's wrist and gave it a slight warning squeeze. Relena was trying to graciously bow out. "Relena, thank you again for everything you've done. I do appreciate it. We'll be leaving today, to spare you any further embarrassment."  
  
"Too late for that, probably," she said, wiping her eyes with a lace handkerchief. "The household staff doesn't miss much. Where will you go?"  
  
"I don't know-" Heero began, but Duo cut him off.   
  
"Kat's offered to let us use a place he owns in America. We'll let you know via a secure line when we get settled. We're still tryng to dodge the press vultures."  
  
She nodded knowingly. "The press. Oh dear. They're outside now, probably waiting for us to make an appearance. I don't suppose--?"  
  
"Go clean up," Duo told her. "We'll go get the others and meet you in the lobby. Then we just show 'em some teeth and hug for the cameras. I'll even try not to jump anyone today."  
  
Heero slid a hand down Duo's back and caught the end of his braid, giving it a secret little tug. "He'll behave."  
  
+  
  
From: The Madrid Times  
  
_Madrid: Princess Relena Peacecraft Darlian posed with four of the ex-Gundam pilots in the rose garden at Sanque Embassy today, and spoke tearfully of her joy at discovering her long time friend Heero Yuy alive._  
  
_"Heero is like a second brother to me," Peacecraft stated. "It's like old times, now that he's back."_  
  
\+   
  
From: The Berlin Weltbeobachter  
  
_Madrid: Relena Peacecraft Catches Former Lover Heero Yuy in Arms of Another-The Infamous Duo Maxwell!_  
  
_Harsh words flew, according to sources inside the embassy, before Peacecraft ordered the pair off the grounds . . . ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually do notes, but this chapter is what happens when the author watches too much Masterpiece Theatre.
> 
> **"Chacun a son gout." French: "Each to his own taste" A common platitude that seldom refers to food. Apologies for lack of proper accent marks. They get mangled when I upload stories.


	22. Too Much Time on My Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

As it turned out, Heero could not leave the country or enter the US territory without a passport, and that would take a little time and finesse, now that he was trying to operate through legal channels. Hector Peacecraft, apparently unaffected by his cousin's embarrassment offered to make a few calls on his behalf. On paper at least, Heero had had Sanque Kingdom citizenship when the war ended, but no current legal address. Peacecraft called back to say he had arranged for an ESUN passport, an updated health record with no mention of mental disorders, and ID papers showing Heero as a Preventer on extended leave, but that it would take at least a day.  
  
They spent the night at the hospital. The hostel was not secure now, with press camped outside, and so the Gundam boys found themselves trapped in the hospital where security could keep the reporters at bay.   
  
Dr. Santos kindly commandeered a ninth floor recreation lounge for their use. It was adequate but, in Duo's words, one hell of a come down from their previous accommodations. They shared the room with two pool tables, a row of snack machines that hummed all night, and each other. They slept on narrow, creaky cots, both couples condemned by circumstance to a night of scratchy blankets and celibacy.   
  
The following morning after breakfast Heero settled on the couch with Duo and Quatre, surfing the news on TV. Somehow Heero ended up in the middle, with Duo's feet in his lap and Quatre leaning comfortably up against him on the other side. The other two seemed so at ease that he guessed this was a common event, lounging around like this. It wasn't unpleasant. He had access to Duo's bare feet, and Quatre smelled nice and fit up against him as relaxed and comfortable as a cat. Trowa spent some time on the phone with Catherine.   
  
"We've got to get back," he told Quatre when he'd finished. "We're booked to start the new Earthside tour in New Orleans the last week in October and Cathy wants red silk ready by then. The whole company is going Earthside on the fifteenth, to get acclimated."  
  
"Is that a costume?" asked Heero. Duo had said something about Quatre designing outfits for the company.  
  
"No, Red Silk is Trowa's new act," Quatre told him with a mysterious grin. "It's a secret!"  
  
"They won't even show me!" Duo groused. Despite a surreptitious foot rub from Heero, he was out of sorts this morning. His arms were crossed and he kept fidgeting with the end of his braid.  
  
"You'll see it opening night, along with everyone else. You, too, Heero. I'll see that you have the best seat in the house." Quatre cast a nervous look at the two of them. "You will come, won't you?"  
  
"I'll be on the job, you know that!" Duo promised.   
  
"And you, Heero?"  
  
"Of course," Heero assured him, trying to read the blond empath's expression. Why wouldn't he be wherever Duo was?  
  
Something was up with Duo. He'd taken his pills; he'd even made certain Heero saw, and collected a few kisses and gropes as his reward. But all the same, he was in a foul mood.  
  
For the dozenth or so time since the previous day, Heero wished they were still hidden away in that garish blue bedchamber. Even though it was clear from some of the tabloid articles that the servants had been paying more attention than he'd guessed--much to his chagrin, both as a former terrorist and an inherently shy person--it had still given them more privacy than the current situation.   
  
"Well, we better work out," Quatre told Trowa. They moved the pool tables aside, stripped off their shirts and jeans to Spandex shorts, and then worked together through a long series of limbering exercises, a mix of Tai Chi, yoga, and what appeared to be contortions. Heero watched, fascinated, as the pair mirrored each other, bending and twisting those lithe, slender bodies in ways that were often extreme and more than a little erotic.   
  
Duo had mentioned Quatre's tattoos and Heero got a first hand look now. Quatre had intricate abstract tattoos on both shoulders, done in black, green, and purple lines, and a black sunburst design on his flat, smooth belly around his navel. Duo had also mentioned piercings besides the nipple and ear rings, but there weren't any anywhere the tight blue shorts didn't cover.  
  
Quatre had grown since their early days together, but remained the smallest of the team, a full head shorter than Trowa. He was extremely limber, too. At one point he jumped up onto Trowa's shoulders, then bent himself backwards to grab his own ankles. This cast his ribs and pelvic bones into high relief, and the swell of his genitals, Heero couldn't help noting. His small pink nipples were hard, too. So were Trowa's. Their matching gold rings winked in the morning light.   
  
Though extremely slender, Trowa was all whipcord muscle and didn't show any sign of trembling under his lover's weight as Quatre transferred his grip to Trowa's outstretched arms just above the bands of black tribal tattoo's there and undulated up into a handstand. They remained like that, motionless, every muscle attenuated, then Quatre slowly bent his elbows, lowering his inverted body down to share a deep, lingering kiss with Trowa. Then, to Heero's shock, he let go and fell, only to be caught by the hips and held upside down, his face level with Trowa's groin, his with Trowa's chin, only a few scant inches apart. Heero felt another stab of arousal, remembering the sixty nine he'd shared with Duo.  
  
"Get a room, you two!" Duo muttered, turning back to the television.   
  
"What's wrong?" Heero murmured, stroking the tops of his bare feet.   
  
Duo pulled away and swung his feet to the floor. "Didn't sleep so good." With that he walked over to a table by the window and began disassembling his pistol for cleaning.  
  
Heero was left feeling a little bereft, alone on the couch.   
  
"Hey Heero," said Quatre, going into another handstand on Trowa's hands as Trowa lay on the floor. "I saw a backgammon set on the game shelf over there. Want to brush up on your game when I'm done here?"  
  
Heero nodded. He'd rather find out what was wrong with Duo, but didn't want to embarrass his lover by forcing a discussion in front of their friends.   
  
Playing games--well, playing of any sort; that was something else he'd learned from the others during the war. Trowa had taught him a number of card games during the months they'd spent together during his recovery after his first self-destruct, and then later, how to play pool. Duo had taught him how to cheat at those same games. Hiding out with Quatre after their escape from the Barge space fortress, he'd learned backgammon and chess. At first he'd considered such pastimes a waste of valuable time, but the logic and strategy had appealed to him and-- he could now admit-- the camaraderie, too. It didn't hurt that he was good at such things, even without Duo's special methods.  
  
"I bet I could clear the street pretty fast," Duo muttered, sighting down the empty gun barrel at a news truck.   
  
Heero switched off the TV and weny over to assess the situation. "Concussion grenades would work better. All the disruption, no casualties."   
  
"If that German son of a bitch was down there, there'd be at least one casualty," Duo growled. "And maybe a few others, too." Rumors about his relationship with Heero were all over the less reputable news outlets already. Speculation ran wild. "You should have let me make a statement when we were leaving the embassy, or at least kiss you! Then they could have narrowed down the headlines. I'm surprised no one has said I'm pregnant!" One of the nastier tabloids had hinted that Relena might be.  
  
Ah! thought Heero, picking up something in Duo's tone. He had wanted to kiss Heero for the cameras, as they'd talked of earlier, and Heero had instead suggested they keep a low profile for now. He'd been distracted by the crowd, had spoken without thinking, and told himself afterwards it was simply habit, keeping all personal details tightly under wraps. But it seemed he'd hurt Duo's feelings.   
  
And why did I say no? he wondered. He'd put him off once before, too, the first time they'd run the press gauntlet from the hostel to the hospital. Both times it had seemed like the logical decision at the moment, but now he found himself questioning his own motives.   
  
If he had made an announcement, what would he have said? He and Duo were lovers, certainly, but it was all so new, so overwhelming, that as good as it was, he wasn't certain what he'd have said if anyone had asked him to define the relationship and where it was headed. He couldn't imagine being without Duo, but did that mean they would get married, like Trowa and Quatre? He wasn't against the concept, but it seemed too soon to think in such terms. Did men get engaged? Or could they just live together and let things stay as they were? Did Duo even want to? Heero thought he probably did, but was hesitant to make assumptions. He had no experience in these matters and that made him nervous.   
  
He leaned by the window and sighed. "A lot of things were easier when we were terrorists."  
  
"Yeah!" Trowa grunted, now balancing a spread-eagled Quatre on his feet. "No permissions. No rules. Go where you like, take what you need. I miss that."  
  
"Me, too!" Duo finished with his gun and stowed the cleaning kit back in his duffle. He disappeared into the men's room for a moment, then returned and pulled Heero back over to the lounge sofa. "You're all wound up, babe. Turn around." Settling behind Heero, he went to work on his neck and shoulders, digging in to loosen up muscles Heero hadn't even realized were tense.   
  
Heero tried to relax but this sudden shift in mood concerned him. Turning, he caught Duo's hands and looked into his eyes. "Are you all right?"  
  
Duo shrugged, avoiding his eye. Heero stroked back the thick, ragged bangs and kissed him on the forehead, then on the lips, and whispered, "Talk?"  
  
Duo shrugged again. "Guess I'm just feeling a little off balance today."   
  
Heero kissed him again, stroking Duo's lower lip with his tongue and was rewarded with a soft sigh.   
  
"Get a room!" Quatre chuckled, though his current position over Trowa could have earned him the same comment for the second time in half an hour.  
  
Finished with their workout, he and Trowa pulled their clothes back on. Quatre held Heero to his promise of backgammon, while Trowa and Duo played pool.   
  
"You and Trowa work well together at that," Heero remarked.  
  
"Thanks. I'm making my debut at the New Orleans show. I'm a little nervous. Well, scared to death is probably a better description."  
  
"Of performing?" Heero asked, surprised. For all his seeming gentleness, Quatre had been as deadly a fighter as any of them when needed. He had shown great compassion, more than any of the rest of them, but never fear.  
  
"No, of what his family will say," Trowa told him. "And the critics. These days, we're Gundam boys, no matter what else we do. The public knows way too much about him as it is. It's not like he's some nobody from nowhere."  
  
"Don't worry, when I get done with you, no one will know who the hell you are!" Duo told him.   
  
+  
  
They whiled away the afternoon as best they could, but by that evening they were all going stir crazy. They ordered delivery sushi for supper and Duo charmed an orderly into getting them several bottles of sake to go with it. The guy must have had 'a thing' for Duo, because he wouldn't take any money and brought back four bottles of very good quality booze. It was milky white and high grade, not the cheap stuff restaurants served hot to tourists. They sat on the floor to eat, drinking the sake from paper cups from the bathroom.  
  
Perhaps it was boredom, or the lingering tension of the day, but they all ended up drinking far too much with their unagi rolls and gunken.  
  
"You know what this reminds me of?" Duo chortled, already half in the bag before the meal was over. "That time after the Tokyo show, when Trowa fell?"  
  
"From the trapeze?" asked Heero.  
  
"Yeah," Duo replied. "He didn't break anything, but it scared the hell out of Kat and me. Remember, Kat? You were crying and begging him never to go on the wire again? Anyway, Tro got us calmed down and Catherine took the whole company out to dinner and got us shit-faced on this stuff."  
  
"And then we scandalized the hostesses, playing spin the bottle," Trowa said, smiling at the memory.  
  
"Spin the bottle?" asked Heero. "Is that a gambling game?"  
  
The others chuckled.   
  
"Not really," Duo told him, refilling everyone's cup. "C'mon, guys, we got a virgin in our midst. Let's show him."  
  
Heero was feeling the sake, too, but still didn't like being called a virgin in front of the others, especially since he was reasonably certain it was now an untrue statement in every possible sense.   
  
Two of the four bottles were empty now. Duo took the one he'd just emptied and put it on the floor, then pulled Heero and the others into a small circle around it.  
  
"'K. It's very simple," Duo informed him, the words slightly slurred. "You just give the bottle a spin, like this." He held it by the middle and gave it a quick twist that sent it spinning in place. "And you gotta kiss whoever it points to when it stops."  
  
The bottle came to rest with the neck pointing at Heero. Duo leaned over and gave him a sloppy eel and sake-flavored smooch. "There! Now you spin, Heero."  
  
It didn't seem like much of a game, Heero thought, spinning the bottle the way Duo had. After all, it didn't require any strategy or skill to speak of--and that's as far as his alcohol impaired brain got before the bottle came to rest pointing at Quatre, who sat to Heero's left.   
  
Oh.   
  
He wasn't so far gone that he didn't shoot a quick glance Trowa's way. But 03 just saluted him with his sake cup. "It's your spin, Heero. Go for it!"  
  
Feeling a little silly, Heero leaned over and kissed Quatre on the cheek.  
  
"Uh uh!" Duo wagged a drunken finger at him. "On the mouth. He gets a do-over, right, Tro?"  
  
"Yep. " Trowa grinned. "Lay one on my wife, Yuy."  
  
Duo did a spit take with a mouthful of sake. "He said it!" he cackled. "You guys are my witness. Trowa said 'wife'!"   
  
Trowa calmly flipped him off, eyes still on Heero and Quatre.  
  
Heero gave Quatre a quick peck on the lips and the others groaned. Quatre shook his head, then gave Duo an exaggerated look of pity. "Oh, Duo, I'm sooooooo sorry for you!"  
  
Duo flipped 04 off. "C'mon Heero, defend my honor, will ya?"  
  
More than a little confused, Heero was happy to relinquish the bottle to Quatre, only to find the mouth of it pointing back at him a moment later.   
  
"All right, sweet stuff, show him how it's done!" Trowa laughed.   
  
Quatre cradled Heero's head with one hand and gave him a long, lingering kiss. He kept his lips closed, as did Heero, but they were full and soft and warm against his, and just as he broke off Heero felt the tip of a tongue tickle across his upper lip. Overall, it was quite a good kiss. The others laughed and applauded.   
  
"Hey, extra points for me!" Quatre said. "I made Heero blush."  
  
"We keep score?" Heero asked, embarrassed but also a little turned on.   
  
"Nope," said Duo. "Your turn again, lover."  
  
Heero gave the bottle a spin and this time it came to rest pointing at Duo. He decided to tip the non-existent score in his favor. He leaned across and captured Duo's lips with his own, then kept moving forward, forcing Duo onto his back and climbing on top of him. Duo squirmed and chuckled into his mouth. When he tried to bring his fingers up into Heero's hair, Heero caught them and pinned them to the floor. The chuckling transformed into a deep moan of pleasure. Heero hadn't forgotten about Shingami's kinks. When he released him and moved back to his place in the circle, Duo was looking a little pink in the face and there were distinct signs of interest in the area of his fly.   
  
Heero arched an eyebrow at Trowa, who gave him an amused salute.  
  
Recovering, Duo sent the bottle spinning and it chose Trowa this time. Duo was laughing again as he launched himself at the green-eyed boy, but Heero was certain he saw Trowa glance his way just before Duo devoured his mouth. Then Trowa's arms were around Duo and they were both clearly enjoying themselves. Heero should have felt jealous, but instead felt a twitch of interest below the belt. It must be the sake, he decided, and the kisses he'd already enjoyed.   
  
He felt another stirring as the bottle came to rest pointing at him again, and with it a vague sense of unease. Everyone in the room knew that Trowa had a thing for him. Was that going to manifest in some form now? And if so, how were their respective lovers going to react?  
  
Trowa moved in beside him with a rather sultry look, put both arms around Heero's waist and pulled him close, then bobbed in for the same sort of fleeting, anemic little peck Heero had given Quatre on his first turn. Sitting back, he gave Heero a mocking smile. "Payback's a bitch, huh?"  
  
Heero's head said 'be thankful.' His body had other opinions on the matter. Duo and Quatre both thought the whole thing was hilarious.  
  
Heero downed another shot and sent the bottle spinning. He was beginning to understand this game; it wasn't about strategy or even winning. This was a good-natured macho bullshit session among friends. He doubted he could have participated willingly with a larger crowed, much less strangers, but these were his friends, and there had always been a strong element of competition between them, even when they were working together.  
  
So he was not at all displeased when the bottle pointed back at Trowa. Invading 03's space the way Trowa had his, Heero stroked a hand over the startled man's cheek, then pushed his fingers back into Trowa's hair, as if caressing him. Instead, he grasped a handful of hair just hard enough to hurt, then pressed his mouth to Trowa's in a punishing retaliatory raid. He kept his eyes open, and felt a satisfied little rush of triumph to see Trowa's flutter shut, and even more so as he felt those lips open under his, just enough to invite the enemy in. Heero automatically exploited the weakness, running his tongue over Trowa's. Pressed side by side, he felt Trowa shiver.  
  
Interesting.  
  
Heero held the kiss an instant longer, then slowly released him. He waited until Trowa opened his eyes again, then shrugged. "Not bad, but your wife's better, I think."  
  
Blushing, Trowa smoothed down his ruffled hair. "Bite me, Yuy!"  
  
"Only if you're a really good boy." Where had that come from?  
  
Duo and Quatre collapsed, giggling like fools and applauding.   
  
"He's starting to sound like you already!" Quatre laughed.   
  
Maybe they were too drunk to see the way Trowa's eyes widened, or how the color in his cheeks deepened and spread. But Heero saw, and Trowa knew it. Was this the 'messing around' Duo talked about, or something else? Suspecting the latter, Heero suddenly felt a little guilty.  
  
Not for long, though. Trowa spun and got Duo. With surprising speed and strength, Trowa pulled Duo into his lap, pinned his hands behind his back with one hand, and slipped the other under the hem of Duo's tee shirt as he gave the braided boy a deep, noisy, tongue sucking tonsil exam.  
  
"I'm almost afraid to ask, but how does this game end?" Heero asked Quatre.  
  
"Usually when everyone is either too drunk or too horney to keep going."  
  
Trowa was still kissing Duo, who was moaning audibly now. "And tonight?"  
  
Quatre shrugged and knocked back another shot. "Dunno, but I'm starting to feel a little left out over here."  
  
Duo rolled out of Trowa's lap gasping and immediately sent the bottle spinning. It came to rest pointing at Heero.   
  
"That bottle's fixed!" Quatre complained.   
  
Heero wouldn't have put it past Duo to find a way to cheat at this game, too, but he had no complaints when his glassy-eyed lover climbed into his lap, wrapped his legs around him, and gave him a long, sensuous kiss, complete with hip grinding lap dance. Heero found the braid, and wrapped it around his hand like a leash, holding Duo in place. Duo's fingernails raked across Heero's shoulders and back and Heero felt a shiver of lust run down his spine straight into his stiffened cock. They were both panting when Duo let up. Leaning in to lick Heero's ear, Duo whispered, "Need you, babe! Bad!" then crawled unsteadily back to his place.  
  
"Your spin-- unless you need to quit," Trowa said, making it sound like a challenge. Heero spared him a wry look and took his turn. This time it came to rest pointing at Quatre.   
  
"About time! I was getting lonely over here," Quatre pouted, clearly drunk now.   
  
Heero held a hand out to him, and when he took it, drew him onto his lap and held him tenderly, left hand between Quatre's shoulder blades, supporting him, the other under his shirt, pressed against the warm skin over Quatre's pounding heart. Heero gave him a caressing kiss, pulling at those soft pink lips with his own and offering his tongue. Quatre met it with his own and they probed gently back and forth. Heero could swear he felt a tingling under the hand covering Quatre's heart, a surge of warmth tinged with gratitude.   
  
Heero smiled against Quatre's lips. Eyes closed, he focused his mind on the other boy's and sent him the thought 'Thank you. You are very beautiful, little one.' Quatre gave no sign he'd heard until he pulled back at last and whispered, "You're welcome. So are you."  
  
By unspoken mutual consent, the game ended there. "And we're supposed to curl up alone on our cots now?" Duo groaned, speaking for everyone.  
  
Trowa shook his head. "Your call, Maxwell. Bathroom or pool table?"  
  
"Bathroom." Duo stood unsteadily, pulled Heero up, and dragged him by the hand into the men's room. Behind him Heero heard the sound of billiard balls being swept aside into pockets, and a needy moan from Quatre.  
  
Before the door had even swung shut behind them Duo was in his arms, kissing and groping and trying to push something into Heero's hand. When Heero caught on and took it, he found it was a bottle of EZ Rider lube. When he looked up again, Duo was pressed against the wall, jeans down around his ankles, giving him a look of unmistakable invitation over his shoulder. Eyes half lidded and smoldering with pent up lust, he licked those lush lips and murmured, "Come and get it, big boy!"  
  
"Yeah!" Heero fumbled open his fly as he moved in on that delectable, irresistible, and charmingly presented ass. As he closed the distance he looked down and smiled. The dual mysteries of Duo's quick-change abilities and lack of laundry solved: he didn't wear any underwear.  
  
In the room behind them, Quatre was moaning Trowa's name now.   
  
Once again, Heero found that a turn on. He probably had a few kinks himself, but he didn't much care. He quickly lubed Duo and himself, then stopped for a moment, standing close behind Duo without touching him, listening to him pant. The panting quickly turned to begging.   
  
"C'mon, baby. Shinigami needs you. Now!"  
  
"Shinigami needs to put his hands over his head, wrists crossed," Heero whispered close to his ear. "Now!"  
  
Duo caught his breath and did as he was told, resting his head on his braced forearms. Heero caught those wrists in his left hand and held them tightly to the wall, using his right to guide his dripping cock into that tight little opening. Duo pushed back hard against him and let out a strangled cry of triumph as Heero slid in to the balls in one hard thrust. That set the tone, and Heero took him hard and fast, pounding into that willing ass, relishing the cries and moans it pushed from Duo's throat.   
  
"That what Shinigami wants tonight?" Heero growled, giving him another hard driving thrust.  
  
"Oh YEAH!" Duo sobbed. "Yeah, just like that Give it to me good, Wing. Pound that ass! Want you in me! All the way! Oh, fuck! Yeah, fuck me, baby! "  
  
Trowa and Quatre were wailing a duet now and Heero let himself join in, mingling their cries and Duo's laughing sobs with his own deep, growling groans of pleasure as Duo's incredibly tight, hot ass milked his cock. This was so good, so very good! Harsh and rough and crude. No romance. No candlelight or chocolate or soft pillows. He was fucking Duo Maxwell against a men's room wall with his pants around his knees and they were both ready to go off like Vernier cannons.   
  
"You ready?" he growled against Duo's neck, not letting up.  
  
"Send me, Heero," Duo whimpered. "Make me fly, 01!"   
  
Still not releasing Duo's wrists, Heero reached around and grasped his erection, pumping it roughly in time to his own thrusts. "Good?" he demanded.  
  
"So good! Uh! Uh! Oh! Going--"  
  
"Going where?" Heero gritted out, trembling on the edge of his own release. "I'm not letting you go anywhere, Duo. You're mine."  
  
"Flying!" Duo cried out. "Oh god, Heerooooo! Flying!" He came hard, spattering his thick white cum against the tiled wall in spurt after hot, arching spurt.  
  
Heero climaxed with a ragged yell, hips spasming as he drove into Duo again and again and again.  
  
They both ended up on their knees on the cold floor, Heero hugging Duo hard, holding that hot, heaving body against his belly, softening cock cradled between Duo's hot, slick cheeks. Duo arched back against him and turned his head for an awkward panting kiss. "Damn, Heero! You fuck like a fucking god!"  
  
"And you come like an angel. Flying," Heero gasped, laughing with pure delight. "Not bad for a couple of almost virgins."  
  
"Jesus, you mean it gets better? Don't know if my heart can take it."   
  
"Your heart. My knees." Heero staggered up and rubbed his bruised knees. He'd gone down hard apparently, but he didn't remember it hurting at the time. Hauling his pants up, he grabbed a handful of paper towels from the wall dispenser, ran them under some hot water, and cleaned himself and Duo up as best he could.   
  
"Mmmm. Real gentleman," Duo mumbled, drunk and sleepy and sated. "No cot tonight. No way, no how! Sleep on the pool table if we have to."  
  
Heero helped him up and back into his jeans. "I have a better idea."  
  
But staggering out with an arm around Duo, he found Trowa had had the same idea. He and Quatre were already curled up together under a blanket on the sagging couch. Quatre's closed eyes and hair were just visible over the blanket's edge. Trowa was spooned in behind him, holding him close. He opened one eye, acknowledging Heero and Duo, then shifted his long legs, making room for them at the other end of the couch.   
  
It took some creative maneuvering, but Heero adopted Trowa's position, lying on his side with his back against the couch cushions, holding Duo close, legs tangled comfortably with Trowa and Quatre's.   
  
As he drifted rapidly toward sleep, it occurred to Heero that this is what he'd wanted, what he'd tried to explain to Dr. Batoosingh. The silly game, the joking around and drinking and flirting. And now this, settling down in a shared post-fuck glow with the others. He didn't know if this was anything close to normal, but it was good and it was what he wanted.  
  
His final thought was for Wufei. Heero wished he was here with them, with a lover of his own. Puzzling over how they'd fit two more people on the couch, Heero pressed his cheek to Duo's silky head and fell blissfully asleep.


	23. Hang Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero woke up as Duo struggled out of his arms the next morning. "What's wrong?"   
  
"Sick!" Duo managed before staggering away to the bathroom. The sound of loud retching soon followed.  
  
Trowa and Quatre blinked at Heero from the other end of the couch, looking bleary and hung-over.  
  
Heero untangled his legs from theirs and sat up. There was a dull ache just behind his eyes and his stomach was a little off, but that was it. Thankfully this much at least had not changed with his physical decline. Duo, whose alcohol tolerance was usually high, was still heaving loudly in the bathroom.  
  
"We shouldn't have done that," Quatre sighed, nodding at the empty sake bottles on the floor. "I didn't intend to drink that much. And-- about the rest of it?" He was having a hard time looking Heero in the eye. So was Trowa. "Heero, are you OK with that?"  
  
Heero felt a sinking feeling. "I thought it was a game, just something between friends. Was I wrong?" He chanced another glance at Trowa and saw the other boy look away.  
  
But Quatre shifted over to put an arm around him. Unlike Heero and Duo, who'd slept in their clothes, he and Trowa were naked under the blankets. "No! I just--well, I wasn't sure how you were taking it. I've never seen you unwind like that."  
  
It was Heero's turn to blush. But even sober now in the harsh light of day, he knew he'd enjoyed himself, just as he liked waking up with his friends and lover close around him, and the way Quatre was sitting by him so comfortably now. It was almost as if his suicide attempt had killed off one aspect of Heero Yuy; the cold, driven, unbending one trained to quash every emotion in favor of carrying out missions. If so, he didn't regret the loss. He might never be normal but if he could accept Quatre's concern like this, not to mention Duo's various moods and forms of attention without rebelling and pushing them away, then it was worth it.  
  
They could hear water running in the bathroom now. Duo was in the shower.   
  
"That's a good sign," Trowa said. "He's really not supposed to be drinking at all. I'm sorry, Heero. Kat or I should have said something. The wine the other night, and the beers the first night here, then this. We should have said . . ."  
  
"Is Duo an alcoholic?"   
  
"Not officially. Not yet. But the doctor said the last thing he needs in his condition is a chemical depressant, especially with all the meds he's on. I noticed it yesterday, after the beer."  
  
"Yes, he was really in a down swing for a while," Quatre agreed. "But he got himself out of it, did you notice?"  
  
Heero had, though he hadn't guessed the reason. He thought guiltily of the whiskey he'd ordered at the embassy the other night. But that hadn't been much, not enough to make either of them drunk. "Does Duo know all this?"  
  
The others nodded. Heero made a mental note; Duo was still not taking proper care of himself. No more alcohol for Duo.  
  
"It's our fault," Quatre said, apologetic as always. "But it was just so good to have you back, especially the way you are now that you're feeling better, and--well, I'm sorry. I guess we all got a little carried away."  
  
"Don't blame yourself," Heero told him, covering Quatre's hand with his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "He's been very good about taking his meds, but neglected to mention this, even though it means there was all the more reason for him not to drink. I'll speak to him."  
  
"Consider me spoken to," Duo moaned, limping out with a threadbare hospital towel clutched around his waist. His pale face had a distinctly greenish cast to it and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair hung in a sodden, tangled mess around him, dripping down his sides and chest onto the floor. He slowly lowered himself down onto a chair, wincing a little as he settled.  
  
"Stay there," Heero ordered, guessing the reason for that wince. As he went for more towels, he felt his underwear sticking to him uncomfortably in the front. He needed a shower, too. In spite of this less than romantic morning after, however, he caught himself grinning in the men's room mirror. The grin widened when he spotted the dried white stains on the wall he'd taken Duo against. He cleaned them away with some paper towels, found Duo's comb and some more towels, and went out again to deal with his sick friend.   
  
Duo was huddled unhappily on the couch now, wrapped in blankets with the towel around his hair. Heero removed it and combed his hair out, ignoring Duo's muttered complaints as he worked through the knots. Dup hadn't used shampoo or conditioner, just rinsed himself down.   
  
An orderly came by for their breakfast order and Quatre wisely kept it to toast, tea, and lots of water. When the man was gone, he wrapped himself in a blanket and tugged Trowa off to the shower.  
  
Heero worked in silence, trying to gauge Duo's mood. Duo slumped, still pale. When Heero finished with the braid, however, he turned and kissed him. He'd brushed his teeth, but a sour tang lingered just beyond the attempt at minty freshness. Duo sighed and leaned his head against Heero's chest. "Sorry. Guess you wore me out last night. And my butt's sore!"  
  
"Sorry." Heero's lower back had a few things to say on the matter, too.   
  
"Don't be. It was fantastic!" Duo wrapped his arms around Heero. "But I think I'm going to be out of commission back there for a couple of days, if ya know what I mean?"  
  
Heero chuckled. "There are lots of other things we can do."  
  
"Ya got that right! However--" Duo pulled back, comically wrinkling his nose. "No offense, but I think it's shower time for 01. "   
  
Heero nodded. He smelled like he'd been doing exactly what he'd been doing last night. Dropping a kiss on the top of Duo's damp head, he headed for the showers.   
  
Quatre and Trowa were together in one of the two stalls, and from the position of their feet under the curtain, they were helping each other get clean. Or something.  
  
Ignoring them, Heero started the water and stripped off his clothes. His briefs and the skin of his belly and thighs were stiff with dried semen. He was about to toss his clothes aside when he noticed that the white cotton briefs had a few pinkish stains in the front. Blood.   
  
He'd made Duo bleed. His breath caught painfully in his chest, making it hard to get air into his lungs. Wadding the incriminating clothes up, he tossed them in a far corner and quickly got into the shower to wash away the suddenly distasteful evidence of this latest loss of control.  
  
He'd hurt Duo. He'd fucked him so hard he'd bled. A slow growing sense of desolation filled him, and suddenly he was sliding down the shower wall into a miserable ball.   
  
Fucking. Blood. Pain.   
  
Bruises. On Duo?   
  
_//Bruises. On my hips, thighs. Lips bloody and swollen, both eyes black . . . No, don't! This can't be . . . . How can I not . . . . Help! Somebody, help me! Helpless! Help! No help . . .//_  
  
Heero shook his head sharply as cold water brought him back to the present. The other shower was silent. Trowa and Quatre were gone.  
  
His right hand ached and he couldn't move the fingers. He'd squeezed the bar of soap so hard it had molded itself to his hand. Prying it loose, he climbed shakily to his feet.   
  
Clean. He had to get clean.  
  
_//Never feel clean again . . .//_  
  
Fighting down the fragments of the flashback, he lathered himself all over, shivering with shock and a sudden bone deep exhaustion.   
  
_//Lesions-- Early stage--//_  
  
"No!" he whispered fiercely against the spray. He had no memories of that part of his life.   
  
No memories! the old mission-oriented inner voice barked. So that Heero Yuy wasn't dead after all. Just as well.  
  
It was his imagination. There was nothing to remember. Whatever had really happened, it was all lost in the fugue period, a blank. Gone. There was no point, no point at all in giving way to vague imaginings.  
  
Duo was fine. They'd both been drunk and horny and wound up from the game. Like Quatre had said, they'd gotten carried away, but Duo had wanted it and enjoyed it just as much as he had. Heero focused on the memory of Duo's smoldering look, and the way he'd moaned and laughed as Heero had taken him. He'd been more than willing.  
  
_//Not rape!//_  
  
Duo was fine. These things happened.   
  
And if the doctors had missed the syphilis? If he'd taken Duo like that, unprotected, and rough enough to make him bleed, even if it felt good and had been exactly what Shinigami wanted? If he hadn't taken the antibiotic?  
  
_//Lesions . . . Blood . . . Bruising hands and leering faces and stinking skin too close against his face, his mouth . . . //_  
  
Heero staggered out of the shower and barely made it to the sink in time before the dry retching took over. It shook him, knotting his empty belly painfully as he gagged up bitter yellow bile. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes and his legs were betraying him again. He gripped the edge of the sink, trying to control his descent. His bruised knees protested but he made it down without injury and rested his forehead against cold porcelain, willing the nausea and black, terrifying, half-formed images away.  
_  
//Bruises. Blood. Pain. Helphelphelphelp No! No help! Please, no, don't let me be this weak! Don't they know who I am? O no, please don't let them know who I am . . . Who am I? 'Hey, don't he look kinda like that kid . . ?' 'Yeah, right -' A name? Someone's name? A blank. 'Yeah right, we're fucking Heero fucking Yuy up the . . . //_  
  
"No!" He startled himself lucid again and was horrified to find the others in the doorway, seeing him like this. Trowa. Quatre. Duo. And he was naked and wet and his mouth was full of bitter not-memories and bile and . . .  
  
"Heero? Babe?" Duo had pulled on a pair of jeans. Heero kept his eyes on Duo's shining blue green painted toes as he came and knelt by him. Not touching, but close enough to be sure Heero knew he was there. Close enough to know Heero was losing it.   
  
Lost.  
  
_//Oh please, don't let that be me moaning like that . . . I won't give them the satisfaction . . . Had he? Had he let those leering, stinking men hear him whimper?//_  
  
Then strong arms were around him and his face was pressed to warm, familiar skin that smelled good, so good. Eyes closed, Heero made himself see nothing. Nothing.   
  
"What's wrong, Heero?" Duo asked softly, holding him tighter and stroking his wet hair. "Talk to me, babe. I'm here."  
  
"I hurt you," Heero mouthed against Duo's neck. He groped for the thick, damp braid and gripped it like a lifeline. "I made you bleed!"  
  
"It's nothing, buddy! It happens."   
  
"He's right," Quatre said softly, coming to join them. "It's nothing serious, I promise. Duo's just new to it, that's all. You need to take it easy."  
  
"Seriously, Heero. I'm fine!"  
  
Yes, he knew that, but it was good to hear the honest concern and love in that voice next to his ear. It gave him something to hold on to and focus on, instead of . . .   
  
Someone was whispering, too low for him to make out. Then other hands touched him, and other arms settled warmly around him: warm breath against the back of his neck, and more on his cheek, smelling of toothpaste and tea.  
  
"I flashed, I think. I'm not sure."  
  
"It's OK, Heero." Trowa, quiet and sure and steady as Heero remembered from that long time ago. "It's happened to all of us. You're safe. We're with you, 01. You're safe. We understand."  
  
Yes. Heero let himself relax in that circle of arms, hemmed in by their warmth and concern, surprisingly unashamed by the gentle press of their lips against his own, against his temple and the back of his neck. They did understand, even without knowing the particulars of the current demons Heero was fending off. They'd all thrashed and whimpered through nights in the safe houses, and kept their pain to themselves, not wanting to admit weakness. But those days were gone. He didn't seem to have any defenses left. Not with them.  
  
He released his death grip on Duo and sat back on his heels with a sigh. "Thank you. I'm all right now."  
  
"Not by a long shot," Duo said, standing and offering Heero a hand up. Trowa and Quatre were dressed, too, but Heero still felt no discomfort being naked. He'd never been taught modesty and felt no need for it now, until he saw the way Trowa glanced down, then quickly looked away. With an inward sigh Heero snagged a nearby towel and wrapped it around himself. OK, there were a few complications still to be dealt with, and last night's kissing game hadn't solved them.  
  
No one pressed him for details as he found clean clothes and nibbled some breakfast, but Duo sat close beside him on the couch, sipping from his own mug in companionable silence. Quatre took the other side, as he had yesterday, and Trowa busied himself packing. No one asked Heero if he wanted to talk and he was grateful.   
  
Dry toast and tea settled Heero's stomach and warmed away the chill from the shower. By the time he'd finished, the unpleasant moment had receded and he just felt empty. The strange, intrusive thoughts were gone for now. He needed something useful to do, to keep them at bay.  
  
Trowa switched on an innocuous morning movie and Duo joined him. Heero borrowed Duo's phone and laptop. A call to the embassy verified that the passport and papers would be delivered today, perhaps by lunchtime. As soon as he was certain Duo was engrossed in Trowa's movie he hacked into Dr. Batoosingh's files and scanned Duo's case history, trying to get a handle on the true extent of his lover's problems.   
  
As Quatre had said, there was no formal determination of alcoholism, but it was clear that heavy drinking had been associated with some of the worst episodes and both suicide attempts. Duo had cut his wrists the first time, but had been found in time by his friend and then-room mate, Hilde. Heero still didn't know why they'd split up. In the final months of the war it had seemed that a relationship was developing there; that was only one of several reasons why Heero had left to work with Relena on Earth. He made a mental note in his Duo file: query others re: Hilde.  
  
For the second suicide attempt Duo had combined vodka and sleeping pills, but passed out and vomited up enough to both save and nearly asphyxiate himself. He'd spent three days in a coma after that one, and nearly a month in a locked ward at Winner Memorial.   
  
And then there were the abuse incidents, when Duo had sought out strangers to hurt him. Strangers in sex clubs with names like Brand X, Top Hand, Spankers, and This End Up. The last of these had occurred in March, and ended with Duo battered, nearly strangled, and institutionalized yet again. After that, there were some terse but disquieting notations on Duo's reliance on Trowa for this kind of release, and Batoosingh's concerns. Scowling, Heero closed the file window and deleted the search history. No wonder Trowa couldn't look him in the eye half the time. What had Quatre been thinking?  
  
Clearly there was much Heero had yet to understand about these three, but he had to balance that against his own experience, both before his break down and since his return. Despite his distaste at some of the partial information he had, there was something strong and real there between them and it was already extending to include him.  
  
He sat back and closed his eyes, pondering Quatre's earlier question. Was he OK with all that had happened last night? Yes. That was the plain and simple answer and no amount of analysis seemed to change it. If they invited him to play that game again, he probably would. He might not even need alcohol. Which was just as well, since he didn't plan to allow Duo to drink anymore, which meant he would not be drinking, either.  
  
Duo's phone rang and Duo glanced over in surprise. Heero handed to to him; the displayed caller's number meant nothing to him.   
  
Duo looked at it, frowning, hesitated, then hit the answer button. "Maxwell here. Who? Oh yes. Yes, I--Hold on, I need to know how you got this number. Ah. No, that's fine. What can I do for you? What? You're joking, right? No--No, really--- Please, the answer is no! What? No, that's not the issue--No, he's not! Sorry, gotta run. Bye!"  
  
Duo disconnected, scowled at the phone for a long moment, and then dialed in another number. "Hiya, Hilde. Yeah, as a matter of fact, I _do_ know what time it is there. Tough shit. What the _fuck_ are you thinking, handing my private, unlisted number out to--- No, I don't! No! What the hell gives you the-- Oh really? Good to know some things don't change, I guess. At least you're consistent-- Yeah, you're right about that! Is that right? Well, you can erase this number from your little black book. It's about to be out of service! No! Don't even try--- Oh yeah? Same to you!"  
  
He disconnected with a vicious stab of the button and turned the phone off. Then he retrieved the computer from Heero and spent several minutes typing angrily as he killed that phone account and applied for a new unlisted number. When he was done he slammed the cover down and put it back in its case.  
  
"What was that all about?" Quatre demanded.   
  
"Nothing. Look, I need a little walk. Alone." He kissed Heero on the cheek. "Be back in ten, OK, babe? Just need to walk off some nastiness. I'll help you pack up when I get back."  
  
"Stay in the building!" Heero ordered. Duo saluted without turning and was gone.  
  
Heero looked at the other two, who appeared only slightly less perplexed. "What happened with Hilde? Before today, I mean."  
  
"She was too possessive," Trowa replied with the hint of a sneer.  
  
"They just weren't suited," Quatre said more kindly.  
  
"They were lovers?"  
  
"No, but not for lack of trying on her part," Trowa said. "The whole 'we can just be good friends who happen to live together' thing didn't work out so well, either. She kept trying to fix him. He cut his wrists in her bathroom."  
  
"Tro, that wasn't her fault."  
  
"Oh? She didn't let us know there was a problem, either, did she?"  
  
"She thought we _were_ the problem."  
  
Heero quietly added Hilde to the list of people he had issues with.   
  
"So, are you all right? After that, I mean." Trowa nodded meaningfully toward the bathroom as he sat down beside him.   
  
"I think so. I'm not in any danger, and I have a vid appointment with Dr. Batoosingh this afternoon. There's no need to concern yourself."  
  
Trowa reached out and tentatively covered Heero's hand with his own where it rested beside him on the cushions. "Duo is there for you, but he's not 100 percent, either. Quatre and I, we're here for both of you. Will you call us if you need us? That probably sounds silly, but Duo often let things get too bad, or to the point where he was too sick to let us know he needed help. I know you'll take care of each other, but--"  
  
"I understand. Thank you. I promise I will keep you updated on his condition. He's been living with you for how long?"  
  
"Six months."   
  
Heero nodded slowly. "I don't know where he and I are going to end up. I never had a home, and I don't think he has a place of his own anymore, either."  
  
"He had a small place on L-2 after he moved out of Hilde's," Quatre replied. "It was a real rat hole, though, so I got him out of the lease when he came to us. It was all he could afford after he quit that scrap yard job and he can't get back into the Preventers with his medical history. Do you think--That is, he's been doing so well working with the circus. I was sort of hoping that maybe there's some way you both could stay with us. Will you think about it, while you're at the Cape?"  
  
"Of course. I have a lot to think about. I've been a soldier, and then a Preventer. I don't know what else I can do, but I know I don't want to go back to that."  
  
"I felt the same way," Trowa agreed. "I was never anything else, either, until I met Cathy and got into circus work."  
  
"And he's good at it, too!" Quatre exclaimed happily, curling up next to his lover. "Just wait until New Orleans, Heero. You won't believe it!"  
  
"Red Silk?" Heero smiled.  
  
"Among other things," Trowa said, wrapping an arm around Quatre. "Kat here's got some hidden talents, too."  
  
Heero's smiled widened. "So I've heard." And he had the satisfaction of seeing both Winner-Bartons blush at the same time.  
  
Duo burst back in red-cheeked and smelling of fresh air. "Where did you go?" Heero demanded.  
  
"The roof," Duo replied, looking happier than when he left. "Look for me on the news tonight, flipping off a news chopper. And I intercepted Hector's courier in the corridor just now." He tossed Heero a sealed leather pouch. "I think you're a free man now."  
  
Heero opened it and examined the passport and papers. The picture was one taken two years ago. He looked like a child in it. A dangerous, grim child, but too young all the same. "I've changed a lot, haven't I?" he murmured, smoothing a thumb over the photo.  
  
Duo slid in behind him and rested his chin on Heero's shoulder. "You've grown up. And gotten handsomer, too. Right guys?"  
  
"Yes," Trowa murmured, still sitting on Heero's other side.   
  
Hardly thinking what he was doing, Heero stroked Trowa's bangs back and looked him square in those startled green eyes. "So have you, 03. And you, too, Quatre. Maybe peace agrees with us."  
  
"What am I, chopped liver?" Duo demanded.  
  
Heero smiled back over his shoulder. "You're already spoiled enough, little mer-" He caught himself just in time.   
  
Duo's eyes widened dangerously, but then he grinned. "Back atcha, big boy." Ignoring the small choked gasp from Trowa, he grinned over at Quatre. "So, are we set for the beach house?"  
  
"Yes, I made some calls. A Winner corporate jet is fueled and ready to go. Food and firewood will be delivered to the house and the security system has been upgraded. I'll ship you whatever clothes you want and the materials you need. Can you be in New Orleans a few days early?"  
  
"No problem, babe. Don't worry about a thing. Everything will be ready, and I'll send you image files as it comes together. Make sure you get the right leather, though. I can't get that just anywhere, you know."  
  
Quatre snorted. "And who taught you which leathers worked best, huh? Relax. It will all be there in a few days. Heero, I'm going to talk to your PT and have the necessary equipment delivered, too. There's a place in New Provincetown that should have everything you need, unless you'd rather join a public gym?"  
  
"No, I don't think so."  
  
"Then it's settled." He paused and his face fell. "Well, I guess it's about time to get going, then."  
  
Duo moved to sit between him and Trowa, wrapping his arms round them both for a shared hug. "I know, guys. It's just for a few weeks, until Heero and I can figure some things out. We'll be back with you before you know it. And you've both got lots to do. After all the secrecy, I expect to be really wowed in New Orleans. Copy that?"  
  
"We copy," Quatre said, grinning, but Heero saw the sheen of tears in those dark blue eyes. "We just sort of used to having you around, that's all."  
  
Duo was looking misty too. He kissed them both and bounced to his feet. "C'mon, let's bug out before we all start bawling. "Heero and I need to say good-bye to the docs. Meet you downstairs in ten, OK?"  
  
+  
  
The press was still lying in wait for them. At least twenty reporters surged forward with mikes and cameras as the four emerged from the hospital and tried to get to the hired car.  
  
Heero paused, letting the others field a few questions. They'd all agreed to ignore any reference to Heero's medical problems or his supposed time as a prostitute. He waited, biding his time. At last, the GPR reported called out, "Mr. Yuy, Mr. Maxwell, can you comment on the nature of your relationship?"  
  
"Yes," he replied. The crowd fell silent and the cameras turned to him. Without any warning, he pulled Duo close, tilted his chin up, and kissed him deeply. Duo looked up at him in surprise, then threw his arms around Heero and held on tight, returning it heart and soul. Scattered applause broke out, and some good-natured laughter. Heero broke the kiss, but kept an arm around Duo as he smiled at the reporters. "I hope that answers your question."


	24. Transgression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

If Duo had needed any more proof that Heero was on the mend, he got it watching him prepare to leave the hospital. In the elevator he caught a well-remembered motion from the corner of his eye. Heero's hand strayed under his leather jacket to the back of his jeans waistband, where a gun had always been. As they headed for the rear exit, where the Winner Corp. car waited, those dark blue eyes were hard and alert, his face an emotionless mask of concentration. It was almost as if a switch had been thrown, something turned back on.   
  
Duo reached into his boot and pulled out the Glock, offering it. To his surprise, Heero shook his head. "No, not yet."  
  
The thought of Heero not trusting himself with a weapon was unsettling. Unarmed, too weak to fight, yet suddenly hyper alert. Duo felt the comforting weight of the Sig Saur in his own shoulder holster; looked like it was up to him to be on guard.   
  
Duo hadn't needed Kat's extra senses to know that things were still unresolved between Tro and Kat, too. Their little game of spin the bottle might not have been such a good idea in retrospect. Kat seemed OK, but Trowa was quieter than ever on the way to the launch port, and hid behind his bangs the way he used to in the early days, not making eye contact with any of them, especially Heero.   
  
Heero's manner grew increasingly distrustful as they made their way through the Madrid launch port and followed Quatre to the private launch bay where two Winner Corporation shuttles waited. Heero watched closely as Quatre greeted the Maguanac pilots, whom he obviously knew.   
  
Trowa still hung back as the others said their good byes.   
  
"I'll email you," Duo whispered to Quatre as he hugged him. "Think about what you want to do, ok?"  
  
Quatre nodded. "Have a great time, you two. See you on the twenty fifth!"  
  
Despite Quatre's assurances, Heero made a thorough search of the trans-Atlantic shuttle before the doors were closed. The craft was small, but luxuriously appointed, with a comfortable lounge with leather seats, a sound system worthy of a dance club, and a wide screen entertainment center. Beyond that, behind fretted wooden doors, was a lavish Arabian-style bedroom. The bed was enclosed in sheer rose pink silk curtains and piled with brilliant cushions and a fur throw. Eyeing that, Duo was doubly glad he'd secretly told Quatre to never mind about a flight attendant. Aside from the pilot and co pilot, they were alone on the plane.   
  
In the tiny galley Duo found a fridge stocked with chilled wines, beer, and imported waters, pates, boxes of Sanque chocolates and other expensive goodies. Duo wondered if the chocolates were just a happy coincidence or if Kat had somehow managed to pump Heero for details of their stay at the embassy. Somehow, he just couldn't picture Heero Yuy sharing that kind of information.  
  
"Man, I don't know how much more spoiling I can take!" he exclaimed as he and Heero strapped themselves in for takeoff.  
  
"You like all this, don't you?" Heero's tone was neutral.  
  
"When it's free? Hell, yeah! How 'bout you?"  
  
Heero shrugged. "It's good to have the basic necessities taken care of. Beyond that, I don't much care one-way or the other. I do like the effect it has on you, though."  
  
"Huh?"   
  
"Luxury seems to act as an aphrodisiac on you. I noticed it even back during the war." Heero was smiling now, in that quiet way of his that most people completely missed. "In the embassy bedroom--your 'orgy suite'-- I finally was able to take advantage of that effect. And now you've got that look again."  
  
"I thought I got a certain look in that men's room last night."  
  
This won him an outright chuckle. "Yes, but it was a different look. Variety is part of your charm. A large part. But I was just wondering--" He trailed off, gazing out the window as Madrid fell away behind them.   
  
"What?" Duo asked, intrigued. The feeling grew stronger as he saw Heero swallow. Heero was nervous.  
  
"Us being together. It's all happened very fast, hasn't it? As lovers, I mean."  
  
"Yeah." Duo's heart gave an uneasy jump. Now that the shock had worn off, or the novelty, maybe, was Heero having second thoughts? If he was, his timing sucked!  
  
"That is--I mean--" Heero Yuy, who had faced death and torture without blinking, was shifting in his seat and picking at the armrest like a kid outside the principal's office, and looking anywhere but at Duo. "We haven't talked about--"   
  
"About what?" Duo demanded.  
  
"Whether--after this rest at the Cape house, and New Orleans--where we're going to live and if you want to live with me or get separate places or--Well, we haven't and I think I'd feel better if I knew how you felt. I'm not trying to pressure you! You don't have to give me any answer right now!" he added hastily. "But I just wanted you to know that whatever you want is fine with me."  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
Heero looked at him in surprise.  
  
"Bullshit," Duo said again. "Remember, that first morning we woke up together and I was fooling around, teasing you, you said you wanted us to be honest about feelings and shit? Well, that goes for you, too. And I don't want any martyr crap, either."  
  
"Duo--"  
  
"If it didn't matter to you, you wouldn't be squirming around like that. It matters a lot to you and your feelings are just as important as mine. What do _you_ want, Heero?"  
  
Heero stared down at his hands and blushed hotly. When he spoke at last, Duo had to lean forward to catch the words. "I want to wake up every morning for the rest of my life holding you in my arms."  
  
"Oh." Duo's voice cracked around the sudden lump in his throat.  
  
"I'm sorry--It's too soon, I know," Heero stammered, misunderstanding. "But you asked how I feel and that's the truth. If that not what you wanted to hear--"  
  
Duo cut him off with a kiss, then sat back, eyes stinging. "It's exactly what I wanted to hear. I just never expected you to be so--so--"  
  
Heero still looked alarmed. "So what?"  
  
"Romantic!" Duo threw off his seatbelt, climbed into Heero's lap, and kissed him. "God, Heero! I never in a million years thought I'd ever hear something like that come out of that mouth!"  
  
"You don't mind?" A hint of the smile was creeping back into those incredible blue eyes.   
  
"Naw, baby, I don't mind," Duo laughed, throat still tight. "All those years I was crushing on you, you never once gave me any sign, except that one time and then it was like it never happened, and then, well--you know. And now you come out with something like that!"  
  
Heero's arms tightened around his waist. "I don't want to make the same mistake again. I want you to know how I feel. But I'm not very good at that."  
  
"You're doing great."  
  
Heero gazed up at him and Duo could have sworn he saw a hint of tears in his eyes now. "You always understood me, when nobody else did."  
  
"Oh yeah? Maybe because I wasn't so distracted by being scared of you, eh?"  
  
"You were never scared enough."  
  
"I beg to differ." Duo kissed him again. "Hey, am I too heavy on you?"  
  
"No, stay."  
  
"I keep forgetting how sick you've been. " Duo cupped Heero's face in both hands, smoothing his thumbs over his cheeks, feeling the slight roughness there. The dark circles were gone. "You look a lot better and you've put on a little weight. Guess that hasn't changed, anyway, huh? No one heals like you."  
  
"I don't have my strength back, though." Heero stroked a hand down Duo's braid. "When I can carry you off to bed, then I'll be better."  
  
Dou wiggled happily against him. "Can't wait for that! Soooo-- what was all that about me liking fancy digs, eh?"  
  
"I have money, savings. It's enough to live comfortably, but not--not like this. I was just wondering how much it mattered to you."  
  
Duo snorted. "You have no idea how little it takes to impress me. And no, I don't care about all this!" He waved at the expensive furnishings. "That doesn't mean I don't enjoy the hell out of it when I get the chance. But believe me, Heero, and I'm not just saying this; as long as you're with me, three squares a day and a dry place to sleep is all I ask. I mean, you should see Trowa's place. Nothing fancy, believe me, just a glorified trailer."  
  
"But you liked it there."  
  
"Because I was with them. It meant a lot, living with two good friends I trusted, after everything that happened."  
  
"Hn." Heero was still holding him, but his face was guarded again.  
  
Duo slipped a hand under his chin and got his attention. "Talk to me, Heero. What's on your mind?"  
  
"I've been watching you with them. The way you talk to each other, even the way you kissed Trowa during that bottle game. There's something there."  
  
"Heero, I swear--"  
  
"No, I mean there's something there I don't want to ruin for you. Any of you."  
  
"They love you, too, Heero. You have to have picked up on that by now, right?"  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, really. They both do. And they love me. And each other. It's all like, I dunno-- just different shades of the same color, sort of. "  
  
"Do you want to keep living with them?"  
  
Duo rested his forehead against Heero's. "Dunno. Sort of. I talked a little to Kat about it. It's all up in the air."  
  
"Because of Trowa's thing for me?"  
  
"That's part of it. When you kissed him, that second time, you felt it, right?"  
  
Heero reddened. "Yes."  
  
"And when you kissed Kat that last time? Something happened there, too, didn't it?"  
  
"Yes, but not like I feel for you!"  
  
Duo chuckled. "Hey, you don't have to apologize to me! I'm the one who's been sleeping naked with 'em, right?"  
  
"Hn." Heero's mouth was suddenly tight. "Did Trowa brush your hair?"  
  
Duo blinked. Those blue eyes had gone laser beam on him again. "What?"  
  
"Did he?"  
  
The temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees. Unsettled, Duo slipped off Heero's lap into his own seat. "Yeah, I guess. Now and then. Why?"  
  
Heero scowled.   
  
"Heero?" Then it dawned on him. In Heero's reality, naked sleeping was just sleeping, but hair brushing was foreplay.   
  
"It was after--" Duo drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "It was after he spanked me. As a sort of comfort thing."  
  
"Spanking. And he used a hairbrush, yes?"   
  
It was Duo's turn to go beet red. "Sometimes, yeah. But how the hell did you know that?"  
  
"Hn."  
  
What was going on behind those implacable eyes now? Before he could ask, Heero glanced down at Duo's watch. "I have a vid appointment with Dr. Batoosingh in ten minutes. May I borrow your computer?"  
  
"Sure, of course."   
  
"When we reach Massachusetts, I need to replace mine."  
  
With that, he stalked into the bedroom with the computer, leaving Duo feeling even more unsettled, and oddly guilty, too. He slouched down in his seat and tugged at his braid, still warm from Heero's touch. "I thought you were gone!" he whispered, wondering how the good mood had changed so quickly.  
  
+  
  
Heero had hoped it would be easier to talk to Dr. Batoosingh via the vid phone. The electronic interface, though visual, would have distancing effect. He wasn't looking forward to this session. He also hadn't counted on having to have this session from a harem bed. Damn Quatre and his well-meaning meddling! If the embassy room was an orgy suite, this appeared to be an orgy plane. Then again, it seemed ironically appropriate, given the subject he had to broach. No matter what he did, it seemed he had to talk about this new intimacy.  
  
If Batoosingh noticed the garish backdrop, he gave no sign. Otherwise, however, he was as unsettlingly observant as before. As soon as they'd exchanged IDs and pleasantries, he said, "You have something on your mind, Heero."  
  
Cross-legged on the bed, Heero made himself remain still and impassive. //Mission mode, 01. Just a debriefing.// "I need your opinion, Doctor. I suspect my emotional state is not as stable as I had hoped."  
  
"Indeed?"  
  
Heero took a deep breath. "I have only been lovers with Duo for a few days, and already I am acting in an irrational manner."  
  
Batoosingh waited. A hint of movement at the lower edge of the screen suggested that he was writing something down on his notepad.   
  
"I love Duo," Heero stated, as if in his own defense. "I find that certain facts of his past bother me more than they ought to."  
  
"I see. Would you care to specify?"  
  
"Trowa brushed Duo's hair. And spanked him. With a brush."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Heero's eyes widened. "He told you?"  
  
"The subject has come up, yes. And this troubles you?" Heero gave a curt nod. A long pause followed. Evidently the doctor required more information. "Why is that, Heero?"  
  
"I don't know why! I assumed you could offer some insight. Is that not your job?"  
  
Batoosingh smiled that gentle, rather sad smile of his. "It's my job to help you find those answers for yourself, not give them to you. Why do you think this bothers you?"  
  
Heero let out a frustrated snort. "We are talking in circles already! Duo had told me many things about his past. Things he did."  
  
"With other men?"  
  
"Yes. He told me he'd never let other men scr-- penetrate him, that I was the first. Except for the rapes and those don't count. And he told me he has not had sex with our friends. Duo doesn't lie, Doctor. I know this. And last night the four of us, we--" Damn, this was worse than he'd feared. Mortified, he forced the words out. "Last night we played a game, the four of us." Face aflame, he ground out, "Spin the bottle."  
  
"Yes?" Was that a hint of amusement in the man's eyes?   
  
Heero forced himself to stay still, not squirm away from the screen in embarrassment. "There was kissing between all of us. Duo kissed Trowa and vice versa. It was very--thorough."  
  
"Did Trowa kiss you, as well?" Batoosingh suddenly interjected.   
  
"Yes."  
  
"How did that make you feel?"  
  
At last! Direct questions. "It was not unpleasant, but we were drinking." He thought about it again. "No, it was not unpleasant, but there was also a difference with all three of them."  
  
"Can you elaborate?"  
  
"With Duo, I felt passion, and love. And I believe I was also showing Trowa that he was mine now. But Trowa kissed him in much the same manner and Duo didn't' seem to mind."  
  
"I see. Did you mind?"  
  
"Not at the time, but now-Yes, I mind."  
  
"Go on. Did you kiss Trowa's partner?"  
  
"Yes. It was--" Heero paused, searching for the right word. "Tender. I was not thinking about Trowa, or even Duo. I like Quatre very much, and found I only wanted show him affection."  
  
"You do not feel competitive with him."  
  
"No."  
  
"I've spoken with Quatre a few times. He strikes me as a very gentle person."  
  
"He is, but he as also a very good fighter, incredibly brave and honorable, and the best tactician. He's not weak, Doctor."   
  
"Gentleness should not be equated with weakness."  
  
"Hn." That's not what Heero's training had taught him.   
  
"Let's go back to you kissing Trowa. I sense you are confused about your own reactions."  
  
Heero frowned. "That seemed more of a game than any of the rest of it. There was competition, and joking around. But also--" He remembered the way Trowa's eyes had closed as his lips opened to Heero's assaulting kiss. Despite all the chest thumping over Duo, Trowa had surrendered to him, right there in front of the others. Heero caught his breath at the guilty tendril of arousal that unfurled in his belly. "I enjoyed it. I acted in a dominant manner and he liked it."  
  
"I see. So it bothers you that Duo allowed Trowa to dominate him in a more serious manner, even though it was in the context of stress relief?"  
  
"It was during the time I was gone, and when they thought I was dead. It should not matter. I understand why they did it." Heero's heart was beating faster. His hands were clenched in his lap now. "This should _not_ bother me! Yet I cannot seem to control my emotions regarding it. Just now, when I wanted only to be comfortable and intimate with Duo, the subject came up and we nearly had a fight over it. I got that bad feeling, like when I was jealous of seeing them together in the news reports."   
  
"I suspect that's exactly what it is, Heero. Jealousy. And that's an emotion with no respect for logic."   
  
"Then there is no way to control it?" What good was therapy, then?  
  
"Sometimes we must simply accept our feelings, Heero. In time they fade. Don't forget that you are still adjusting to being part of this group again, and to a new phase of your life. And I did caution you two about taking things too quickly, didn't I?"  
  
"Yes, but we were unable to take your advice. Lo-attraction? It is like jealousy. You cannot make yourself not feel it."  
  
Batoosingh chuckled. "True, especially at your age. I don't think any harm will come of it, mind you. But you have placed yourself in the position of having to learn a great deal at once."  
  
"Hn." Heero didn't think he had the patience for this therapy.  
  
"Let's go back to the specific things that seem to be bothering you. Why do you think that the thought of someone else brushing Duo's hair would trouble you so much?"  
  
"He says I have a fetish for his hair."  
  
Batoosingh chuckled again. "It does seem to be highly symbolic for you. Any thoughts?"  
  
Back to square one again! Heero clenched a hand his own hair, biting back an angry retort. This was giving him a headache. "Duo's hair is very special to him. It is part of what makes him who he is and he doesn't unbraid it very often."  
  
"When does he?"  
  
"In my experience? Only for sex."  
  
"So it represents a level of intimacy, for him to let anyone see him, literally, with his hair down. And for him to allow someone to touch it."  
  
"Yes!" Loosing Duo's hair that day after the battle, washing and brushing that hair-it had been their first form of intimacy. He haltingly expressed this, and the doctor nodded, as if finally satisfied with one of his answers. "I don't think Duo let the men he screwed play with his hair," he finished lamely.  
  
"So you perhaps classify this as the same level of intimacy as anal penetration?"  
  
Heero blinked. "Maybe."  
  
"And he allowed your friend that honor."  
  
"Hn." This wasn't making him feel any better.  
  
"And what about the spanking, Heero. How does that rate?"  
  
Heero shook his head. "I just don't understand that."  
  
"You have not done that for him?"  
  
"No. Except a swat on the butt the other morning, but that was only a joke. But--well, I could tell he liked it. He jokingly asked me for more."  
  
"Such psychological needs are complex things, Heero. Unless you felt that it was becoming a problem between the two of you-Duo needing it more often than you were wished to engage in that kind of play, or for reasons you were not comfortable with-but otherwise, I would not worry about it. It's a common form of play among lovers. More importantly, though, for people like Duo pain and discipline can also be very cathartic. He has a long history of seeking out that kind of treatment, often in highly unhealthy ways. According to Duo, your friend Trowa acted as a safe outlet for those needs at a time when Duo might otherwise have gotten himself seriously harmed again. As difficult as it may be for you to accept, I think it was a positive thing at the time."  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Give yourself time, Heero. And when you can do so calmly, try to talk to Duo about it. Perhaps even Trowa."  
  
"Hn."  
  
"That's not a happy sound, Heero. Or a particularly informative response, either. What sorts of things could you do to resolve these feelings?"  
  
"I don't know!" he shouted. Putting his fist through the nearest wall seemed like the best viable solution at the moment. "What is the point of this? I've already told you I don't know! Why else are we having this fucking conversation, if you can't tell me what I should do? I don't know! With all due respect, Doctor, I see no point to this!"  
  
"You're expecting a fast, logical solution. You need time to contemplate these reactions. Give yourself that time, Heero, and we'll see where you are next week. And do try and talk to Duo? If it's any comfort, all lovers hit snags like these."  
  
Heero glowered at the screen. "You often tell me that my feelings are common."  
  
"It just means you're part of the human race, Heero."  
  
Heero signed off and stared at the blank screen. If the computer had been his rather than Duo's, he might have given in to the urge to toss it across the room. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there like that when a nervous cough in the doorway alerted him to Duo's presence. The man still moved quiet as a shadow!  
  
"Everything OK in here?" he asked, toying nervously with his braid as he attempted a grin. It didn't quite work.  
  
"I don't want Trowa touching your hair anymore!" Heero snapped. "And no more spanking!"  
  
Duo tensed, and something in his eyes changed. He shrugged. "Fine. And in return, you don't fuck him. Give and take, Yuy." With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared back into the lounge.  
  
"What?" Gathering his scattered wits, he hurried after him. Duo was hunched in his seat, clutching an open bottle of beer. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Duo took a long swig and gave him a defiant look. "Just what I said. No fucking Trowa."  
  
"I don't want to fuck Trowa!"  
  
Duo snorted and took another drink.   
  
"You shouldn't be drinking."  
  
Duo waved the bottle at him tauntingly. It was almost empty. "You shouldn't be yelling at me for something that happened while you were off being dead!"  
  
Controlling himself with an effort, Heero walked over and took the beer from Duo's hand. Duo let him, but angrily turned away, arms locked across his chest.  
  
"Duo?"  
  
No answer. Those big expressive eyes were hard now, and dark with fury, but the corners of his mouth were trembling.   
  
"Duo." Heero eased down beside him on the seat and touched his shoulder. Duo shrugged his hand off and hunched closer to the window. Confused, Heero sat back. "I don't want to have sex with Trowa."  
  
"That's not what Kat says."  
  
"If it's about that kissing thing-"  
  
"Before that. You know how he is, Heero. You may not mean to, but deep down, you want to. And he wants it bad."  
  
Heero twisted the bottle in his hands. "I just spent half an hour with Batoosingh, establishing that apart from loving you, I have absolutely no clue how I feel about anything. But you and Quatre have me all figured out?"  
  
Duo shrugged. "Figured out? Hardly. But you know Kat. He's never wrong about these feeling things."  
  
Heero put the beer bottled in a box behind the tiny bar and leaned on the counter, struggling for some semblance of self-control. "Duo, all I want, all I think about, is loving you, making some kind of new life with you. But I'm lost, adrift, and you all keep throwing things like this in my way! I only want you!" But even as he said it, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered "Liar!"  
  
But Duo was getting up now, eyes still hard. He brushed past Heero and bent over to open the mini fridge and take out a second beer. Straightening up again, he looked Heero straight in the eye as he twisted off the cap, the challenge plain in his face.  
  
"Duo, we agreed you wouldn't drink anymore."  
  
"Yeah, we did, didn't we?" Duo maintained eye contact as he raised the bottle and took a drink.  
  
"Duo, stop it!"  
  
Duo's pupils dilated noticeably. "Make me, Heero."  
  
What the hell? Heero took the bottle from him and placed it with the empty in the box at their feet. Duo simply turned and got another from the fridge, still glaring a challenge. Was this a game? Some form of flirting? No, it had a deadly serious edge to it. Duo needed something from him, something triggered by this whole miserable conversation.   
  
Heero grabbed the bottle away before he could open it. "No, Duo."  
  
But it wasn't enough. Quick as ever, Duo snatched it back, twisted the cap off and took a gulp. Heero grabbed his wrist, slopping beer over both of them. "Stop this!"  
  
"Make me!" Duo growled, resisting just enough to put tension on Heero's arm. "I mean it, Yuy. Make me stop."  
  
For the second time that day, Heero lost his temper. Adrenalin kicked in. Tossing the bottle away, careless of where it landed, he yanked Duo out from behind the bar. He hadn't really tested his strength, aside from a few workouts, but it was sufficient to drag a suddenly unresisting Duo away from the bar. The minute he let go, however, the baka headed straight back toward the fridge. This time Heero caught him by the braid and reeled him none too gently back. Duo spun out of his grip and braced, expecting attack. His eyes were wild now, but Heero could not tell if it was with lust, anger, or if Duo had simply gone off the edge again. But there was no question: he was being challenged by his strong-willed lover, asked to prove something. It was almost as if Duo wanted a fight. "Does he want me to punch him?" Heero thought with sudden alarm.  
  
Then another thought hit and suddenly everything seemed very clear. Heero ducked under Duo's guard, caught him by the back of the shirt, and shoved him away from the bar, toward the back of the plane. Getting a firmer grip on the base of his braid, he kept the momentum going, marching him into the bedroom and kicking the door closed behind them. He kept a grip on Duo's neck as he threw him face down on the bed and wrestled his jeans down.   
  
"Is this what you need?" he growled.  
  
"Fuck you!" Duo snarled into the comforter, but he wasn't fighting. He could have. Heero knew he was more than strong enough to at least get away. But he didn't even try. Giving himself over to instincts he hadn't felt since Libra, Heero brought his open hand down hard on Duo's ass. The loud smack startled both of them and Duo's cheeks quivered under the force of it. Duo's whole body jerked, but he didn't try to get away, just clutched at the satin bedspread, head bowed under Heero's grip. Heero spanked him again, with the same response.   
  
Duo wanted this. Needed this. Had forced his hand, so to speak.   
  
"You." Smack! "Will." Smack! "Not." Smack! "Drink." Smack! "Alcohol!" Smack!  
  
Point made, he released him and stepped back, gasping with the effort and an uncomfortable tightness in his groin. Duo's round, fair skinned bottom was mottled with red fingerprints now and he was shaking and moaning. Not crying. Moaning.   
  
"More, Heero!" he pleaded, voice muffled against the bed. "Please!"  
  
The need in his voice was unmistakable and Heero's hormones answered. Heero rested on knee on the edge of the bed and smacked Duo's ass again, trying not to hear Dr. Batoosingh's voice in his head, asking him to analyze his feelings. Fuck that! This was between him and Trowa-What? No, between him and Duo. Yes, with Duo, who was still moaning for more even as he struggled and wiggled under the open handed blows Heero was raining down on that upturned, submissive ass.   
  
And then somehow he was yanking Duo's jeans down around his ankles, giving up only when he couldn't get them off over the half laced jump boots. He had presence of mind to lift the Glock out of the ankle holster and set it aside before he shoved Duo up on his hands and knees and wrestled his own fly open. Lube. He needed lube, but a tube of it had appeared as if by magic on the bed beside Duo. Heero snatched it up, coated himself quickly and shoved into Duo in one hard thrust, remembering too late that he was still sore from last night's adventures.   
  
Duo cried out in pain, but locked his hands over Heero's where they gripped his hips, urging him on. The low bed was just the right height. Bracing his feet, Heero accepted Duo's unspoken challenge and fucked him.  
  
The first few driven thrusts burned through his body like divine fire, but it also cleared his head. What the hell was he doing?   
  
Exactly what Duo wanted you to.  
  
And who said that braided baka had any sense?  
  
Heero didn't pull out, but he slowed his thrusts and wrapped an arm around Duo's waist, cradling him close. "I have you, Duo. I'm here."  
  
Duo let out a sob, tightening his death grip on Heero's left hand, still clamped on his hip. "Need you!"  
  
"I'm here." A pattern. There was a pattern, his testosterone addled mind registered. He wasn't entirely sure at the moment just what it was, but it had something to do with Duo feeling safe. Heero had to be in control and keep him safe.  
  
He rocked into Duo's body with a steady rhythm, drawing both of them inexorably toward coming. Duo was crying openly now, and panting how much he needed Heero. Heero released Duo's hip and found the end of the braid, tearing out the rubber band, loosing that hair around them. "I love you, Duo. I'm here."  
  
"Yours Heero. Only yours!"  
  
"Yes." Heero buried his face and left hand in that hair, then found Duo's throat, cupping that upraised chin firmly but gently, holding him fast. "You're mine, Duo, and I take care of what's mine. I love you."  
  
Duo let out a ragged shout and forced himself back on Heero's cock. Heero braced his feet again and leaned into the edge of the bed, wrapping his right hand loosely around Duo's cock and letting him fuck himself wildly to orgasm.   
  
"Trowa never did this for him," Heero thought in animal triumph as Duo screamed and spurted and Heero's own white-hot orgasm slammed through him.  
  
Knees shaking, dangerously close to collapse, Heero withdrew his flagging cock and fell onto the bed. It took a moment to register that Duo had curled up in a tight ball, still crying. Shirt half torn off, hair wild, ankles trapped in his twisted jeans, ass an alarming mottled red, he looked more like a victim than a lover.   
  
"Oh god!" Fighting through his own post orgasmic haze, Heero sat up, looking in horror at what he'd reduced him to. He wanted to cry himself, apologize, beg for forgiveness for such a base loss of control, but instinct was still engaged and somehow that seemed exactly the wrong thing to do. Duo had asked for this, forced this, outright begged for this. Duo had needed this.   
  
Instead, he gathered the sobbing wreck into his arms and held him, rocking him, stroking his hip as if to sooth away the bruises already darkening there. "I'm here, Duo. I've got you. You're safe with me."  
  
That must have been the right thing to say, because Duo threw his arms around him then and kissed him passionately and hard. Heero could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, against Heero's chest. He squirmed closer to Heero, clinging to him, burying face in his neck, trembling all over. Alarm crept back in. Duo wasn't done. He still needed something.  
  
Ah!   
  
"Duo, get me your comb," Heero ordered, his voice low but firm.  
  
With a hitching sob, Duo nodded. Kicking off his boots and pants, he slid off the bed and rummaged in his duffle bag. This gave Heero a splendid view of his ass and long bare legs, on that sent a twitch of arousal though his already sated cock. Who needed drugs when you had Duo Maxwell, he thought. He sobered a bit as Duo turned back with the comb. His eyes were downcast, his cheeks flushed and streaked with tears.   
  
Heero pushed himself up against the headboard and spread his legs. "Come here, love."   
  
Duo clambered up to sit between his legs and gave Heero the comb. Almost reverently, Heero took up the ritual, pulling that disheveled mass back, parting it into sections, carefully working out the tangles. "I love you, Duo. You know I'll keep you safe and give you what you need."  
  
Duo nodded, relaxing noticeably at the sound of his voice.  
  
"My pretty mermaid," Heero went on, babbling any nonsense that came into his head now as he ran his hands over that shining mass of chestnut hair. "You'll let me take care of you, won't you? Next time you'll tell me what you need."  
  
"Dunno." Duo's hand was at his mouth now and Heero suspected he was chewing at an already ragged thumbnail.  
  
Heero reached around and caught the hand, then turned Duo so that he was resting against his chest. His cheeks were still wet. "Stop that, it's bleeding. Relax, little mermaid," he crooned, stroking him. "Relax and talk to me."  
  
Duo took a few hitching breaths. "I-I got scared. I'm sorry about Trowa! I'm sorry for telling you and hurting you and-- I shouldn't have said-I'm sorry! Please, Heero, don't go away again!"  
  
Go away? Gods, was Duo really still this fragile? Heero held him closer. "I won't ever leave you, Duo. I promise. I swear to you, I won't leave you."  
  
"You're not mad at me? About Trowa?"  
  
Heero sighed, knowing he had to be careful. "I'm still confused," he admitted. That was close enough to the truth for now. "I'm sorry I scared you. I still don't handle feelings very well."  
  
"Neither do I," Duo mumbled. "I'm sorry, Heero! You don't need this. I'm such a stupid fucked up-"  
  
"Stop!" Heero ordered, and felt Duo shiver against him. "We're both messed up, but we're strong enough for each other. You're exactly what I need, Duo, and I'm what you need. I will spank you and fuck you and love you as much as you need. Forever. I promise."  
  
Duo went very quiet. What Heero could see of his cheek was very red. "You really don't mind? I mean, Shinigami needing that? Pretty freaky, huh?"  
  
"Yeah. Almost as freaky as Wing wanting to give it to him."  
  
"Jesus. If Treize could see us now, huh? Wonder if he'd still think we were so beautiful and pure."  
  
"Fuck Treize. We never were."  
  
"You're wrong," Duo said sadly. "You were. You were exactly what he said. Pure and perfect."  
  
"No, I was miserable and lonely and emotionally stunted and horny for the pilot of Deathscythe. I was a total bastard, Duo, and a nutcase. You changed me. You made me feel like I'm worth something. Like I have a right to be more than an efficient weapon."  
  
Duo let out a shuddering sigh. "Then you hold that thought, 01. You stay alive or I'll kick your ass."  
  
"How's yours?"  
  
Duo nuzzled his neck and tightened his arms around Heero's waist. "Very sore, inside and out. Just the way I like it."  
  
You're a strange creature, Duo Maxwell, thought Heero, and I'm going to learn every kink and desire to keep you happy. So much for normal.  
  
"Fuck normal," he whispered into Duo's hair.  
  
"Amen to that!" Duo muttered.   
  
Sitting there, listening to Duo's breathing and the lulling hum of the shuttle engines, Heero wondered if this was the sort of communicating Dr. Batoosingh had in mind. He doubted it.


	25. Indian Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

They landed in Boston, spent the night in a hotel there, and then drove down to the Cape in a rented SUV. Massachusetts was surprisingly warm and sunny in mid-September, a weather pattern Duo said was called "Indian summer" though he didn't know why. The sky was a flawless turquoise over a silver blue sea. Beaches and white dunes tufted with long grasses made a pale demarcation between the two. The Cape had once been a long hook of land jutting into the Atlantic to embrace and shelter a huge bay. A massive storm in 10 AC had melted away the end of the hook and several towns. Now it was more like a hitchhiker's abbreviated thumb, capped with the recreational harbor city of New Provincetown. The house they were to live in lay fifteen miles south of it.   
  
Duo drove, pointing out places of interest to Heero as they followed the highway around the inner curve of the Cape. The towns here were old, many dating back to the early history of settlement in this part of Earth. Whalers and fishermen had founded them, Duo explained. The towns were pretty and quite modern now--Sagamore, Sandwich, Yarmouthport. Turning north up the remaining stump of the hook, they passed through Eastham, the last of the pre-storm towns. In between these larger towns were little sprinklings of settlement-"wide places in the road"-Duo called them. Most were hardly more than a store and a gas station at an intersection, with a scattering of small modest houses on the landward side, and rows of expensive summer condos or beach houses on the waterfront. Here and there unmarked roads disappeared among the grassy dunes. Their destination lay along one of these. The natural beauty of the place appealed to him, and the remoteness satisfied old instincts.  
  
Heero was still jetlagged and tired, and longed for his former resilience. He felt much healthier than he had a week ago, but his body was still a troublesome stranger, tiring out at odd moments, and letting him down. He wouldn't trust this body in a fight. Peacetime or not, this all left him with a nagging sense of anxiety.   
  
The long ride gave him time to think. Duo was bright and cheerful now, with no sign of the dark mood Heero had seen during the shuttle flight, or the strange, desperate intensity that had precipitated the violent sex aboard the shuttle.   
  
Heero wasn't comfortable with what had happened. When the hormones had subsided, Heero realized that Duo had purposefully egged him into spanking and then roughly fucking him. It had obviously been what Duo thought he'd needed, but Heero had been left depressed. Lying there in that ridiculous Arabian Nights bed, sticky and aching and sated, he'd felt guilty, convinced that in fulfilling Duo's need for pain and punishment, he'd ultimately failed his lover. And himself. All this time he'd been angry at Trowa for what sounded like a careful, caring application of discipline, then Heero had simply lost control. In retrospect, he had to admit that he was unhappy with Duo for once again manipulating him.   
  
It didn't help at all that Duo had been happy, affectionate, and very attentive to Heero's needs since then, including a very intense but much gentler bout of lovemaking in the Boston hotel last night. Heero's body had responded to his lover's advances as readily as always, but he felt cautious, too, and on guard. Duo had made no objection when Heero, concerned at the wear and tear on Duo's body, kept things to caresses and sixty-nine. He'd come shouting Heero's name, then cuddled happily against him and gone to sleep. Heero had enjoyed it, too, but lay awake for a long time, trying to sort out his own nagging unease.  
  
Duo wasn't completely stable. If he'd had any doubts about that, they were gone. Not that this changed Heero's feelings for him-quite the opposite, in fact. It only strengthened his determination to care for and protect his beautiful lover. But he was aware of feeling something else, too, something he had trouble defining. Fear, he admitted now. But of what?   
  
_//Failing him again.//_ Staring out at the passing dunes, he finally put his finger on it. He'd failed before, in his own survival mission, and in how he'd left his friends, and Duo. Everyone had suffered because he'd misjudged his own appropriate course of action. Heero glanced over at Duo, who was humming off key with the radio, and recommitted himself to "Mission Duo." He would work to make sure Duo knew he could depend on him, lean on him if need be, but for love and support, not violence. He knew he couldn't change him overnight; two years of therapy with Batoosingh hadn't worked, either. So he had to find some way to prove to Duo that he could to pull him back to safety. Until such time as the mission was completed, he accepted that Duo might sometimes need the old, unhealthy outlets but those beatings or spankings or whatever they should be termed would be administered at Heero's discretion, not Duo's.   
  
The question was, how was he to implement his new mission? What was missing in Duo's life that sent him into those tailspins, and how could Heero defuse that? He pondered this, defining the relationship in question.   
  
He and Duo were friends and sex partners. Duo called him "lover." They had a history of sorts, but one punctuated by long absences, war, and other violence.   
  
Both of them had grown up with deprivation, even cruelty. It had made Heero hard and closed off, but Duo seemed determined to overcome it, to touch others and be connected.  
  
Connection. That seemed a good focus. How could he help Duo feel more connected to him? In this, he admitted, he was at a distinct disadvantage. Duo understood normal human interaction better than he ever had. Heero's background was limited mostly to what he'd read or seen in movies. "Follow your feelings," Odin Lowe had told him, but that had been the closet thing to a real human relationship Heero had ever had, such as it had been, and Lowe had abandoned him before teaching him how to follow his own advice.  
  
He considered Relena. She's wanted a relationship with him, seen something worth wanting in him before he'd even met Duo. Why? He'd never given her the slightest encouragment, yet she'd tracked him like a shark scenting blood! He'd spared her life, even let her force him into dancing, but never felt anything more than a sense of duty to her. He had followed his feelings, not killing her time and again, but it hadn't made him love her. Duo, on the other hand, he'd had some stir of feelings for almost as soon as he'd laid eyes on him, and even getting shot by him hadn't quelled them. Only his sense of mission and duty had made him bury them deep and cold in his heart.   
  
That left him with Quatre and Trowa. Perhaps he could take that relationship as his model, though Trowa was the only one he could begin to identify with. Yet now that he knew him better, he realized that the reserved, green-eyed young man exuded tremendous sexuality in his own quiet way. Heero had no idea how he did that, much less how to emulate it. He sighed, and Duo gave him a questioning glance.  
  
"Tired?"  
  
"A bit." The magnitude of the task emerging in Heero's mind left him feeling overwhelmed. The consequence of failure was too dire to contemplate, but where to even start?  
  
"Well, hang in there. We're almost there. Just one more stop." They reached a little hamlet called Buck Harbor and Duo pulled off at a roadside grocery store to pick up the last minute provisions they'd ordered ahead online.   
  
The shopkeeper, a thin, middle-aged woman named Kelly, greeted Duo with a smile and a hug. "I figured you'd be back!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with a coastal accent. "You're looking real good, too."   
  
"Hey, love'll do that to ya!" Duo announced, seemingly unconcerned by the other locals watching curiously around the end of the aisle. "This is Heero. Guess you probably saw us on TV, huh?"  
  
"Hard to miss you. It was all over the news." The look she gave Heero, keeping silent guard by the front door, was less warm. It was an appraising look, Heero thought, and a bit suspicious. 'Protective,' he added mentally. This woman liked Duo very much and wasn't certain Heero's presence was a good thing. "Good to meet you, Mr. Yuy. Hope you boys have a nice visit here."   
  
Duo shot him a 'be nice!' look and Heero gave her a curt nod. "I understand it is very private."  
  
"Don't you worry yourself none 'bout that. We get all sorts of famous people here on the Cape, but we know how to mind our own business and not talk to those nosy reporters. You'll be left alone here. Just watch yourselves up in Provincetown. It's mostly tourists there, Sunday sailors and summer folk and their fancy yachts. That's where they'll catch up with you."  
  
"That's the local's nice way of saying New Provincetown is paparazzi heaven," said Duo, poking through a carton of fresh produce. "It's also one of the top gay vacation spots on the east coast. After the way you outted us in Madrid, we'll probably end up on the local paparazzi hit list. But hey, can't help it if the world finds us too fascinating, right?" He chuckled, hefting the carton.  
  
"Hn." Heero picked up the box of dairy products and followed him out to the car. So this was a risky location, after all. Then again, the others had lived in the media spotlight for years now, and nothing bad had happened to them because of it. He had to stop thinking like a terrorist. All the same, he was on alert as they set off on the last leg of their drive.  
  
A few miles later, Duo turned down a nondescript narrow track marked with nothing more than a small sign stating that it was a private drive. He made a point of showing Heero the security monitors hidden at intervals behind grass hummocks and clumps of wild beach rose. The road wound to the right and crested a large dune, and suddenly the sky and sea lay spread out before them in a glittering, golden hued panorama. A large, weathered house above a long curve of white beach.  
  
"Home at last!" Duo announced, and Heero heard genuine warmth in his voice. This was a place Duo had been before, one where he'd been happy.   
  
Heero soon saw why Duo would react that way. He'd never cared much where he stayed, so long as it was secure and reasonably habitable, but the moment he laid eyes on the pseudo-Victorian "cottage", standing lonely among the white, grass-tufted dunes above the silver green bay, it felt like somewhere he wanted to be. It was an odd-looking place, like something out of a movie, with its weathered shingled walls, rambling porch, tall windows, white gingerbread trim, and conical tower. He'd spent his life moving from one temporary location and clandestine operation to another. "Safe houses": only now did he see the irony of that term. None of them had been safe, and certainly nowhere he'd even thought of relaxing. His time in the Sanque Kingdom after the war had been no different, and then--homeless.   
  
'Why here?' he wondered as he and Duo carried in their bags and the groceries. Why would a Japanese-descended, ex-assassin, displaced colonial feel so immediately at home in such a place? Perhaps because he was here with Duo, alone at last? But he'd been in places with Duo before, but none had ever given him an instant impression of peace and refuge that seemed to have little to do with the state-of-the-art security installations.   
  
On some level, he still distrusted such feelings. One couldn't be a certain way for a lifetime and just change. Perhaps he was still mentally ill, as well as physically compromised?   
  
Even so, he found himself oddly excited as Duo showed him around the place. The floors were polished honey pine, carpeted here and there with dark red Persian rugs. The woodwork was the same golden tone, and the wainscoting in the hallways. The large, high ceilinged living room had a stone fireplace and two walls of built in bookcases filled with books and decorative items. Colorful artwork brightened the walls, and brilliant, jewel-toned upholstery on the comfortable furniture. Like most of the principle rooms of the house, it faced out over the bay, and was bathed in the dancing play of light. None of the furnishings looked Arabian, but it still reminded Heero of the shuttle bedroom. Quatre's family favored rich colors and fabrics, and luxurious surroundings. No wonder Duo had liked it here.   
  
The kitchen was cavernous, designed for a cadre of servants to look after flocks of Raberba kin and their guests. There was a large dining room next to it, with French doors opening onto the porch. A nicely appointed library had another fireplace, and a rounded out corner where the base of the tower intersected. A curved window seat was built in to it, and lined with cushions.   
  
This floor also had several guest rooms, and a large old-fashioned bathroom with reproduction 1920's fittings, right down to a white claw foot tub and ruddy-varnished matchstick wainscoting.   
  
One of the downstairs rooms was already converted into an impressive fitness room and sparring dojo. Climbing a curving staircase to the second floor, he found the upstairs tower room outfitted with state of the art computer hookups and a serviceable workstation. There was even a selection of computer games that had been Heero's favorites during the war; leave it to Quatre to remember such things.  
  
"I think Kat means for us to use the master bedroom!" Duo laughed, pulling Heero into a huge suite overlooking the sea. A king-sized bed with a colorful blue and green velvet quilt dominated the room, along with a whitewashed brick fireplace. The walls were painted a soft white and hung with artwork and fabric hangings that mirrored the colors of the sky and sea outside. A bowl of beach roses scented the room, mingling with the sea air coming in through the curtains. A master bath was visible through a far door, and Heero caught a glimpse of another large claw foot tub, and a shelf above it filled with colorful candles of various sizes and heights.   
  
Heero looked it over with an appraising, mission-oriented eye and something else fell into place. The room was carefully arranged to foster intimacy, and perhaps sex. Even Heero felt it, in the sudden rush of warmth to his groin and a flutter in his belly. The bed was large, the textures and colors carefully orchestrated to appeal to the senses. It invited him to throw Duo down on it and roll him around. The bathtub was the same, far too large if simple hygiene was the only goal, not to mention the careful proximity of the candles in a room adequately equipped with electric lighting. Even the golden, late afternoon light seemed planned, in the way it caught Duo, showing off the highlights in his braid and the rich color of his eyes.   
  
Intrigued, he ran a finger down Duo's arm and saw those eyes widen. Without a word, Duo came into his arms and gave him a deep, open-mouthed, tongue-darting kiss that promised more. Heero held him, cataloging the new information.  
  
Romance. Sensuality. Hn.  
  
Courtship! That was the element lacking. They'd completely skipped any semblance of that social interaction, leaping from being fellow soldiers to sex without any preamble. The same thing had happened in the silo that night. One minute they were two young soldiers in a bad situation, the next they'd been dry humping like jackrabbits. Had it been too fast, too simplistic? If Duo was still feeling sad or scared enough to need what he'd needed on the flight, even from Heero, then _something_ was missing.   
  
If only he had a better grounding in what to do! He could shoot almost any weapon, drive almost any vehicle, kill a man in dozens of silent, efficient ways, and--according to Duo--fuck very well. But how to make Duo feel loved and protected out of bed?  
  
Heero combed his memory for the few references he had. He thought of how Trowa and Quatre touched each other, and the few movies featuring romance he'd been forced to sit through at one time or another. Stepping back, he caught Duo's hand and drew him out into the hallway. Then, taking a deep breath, he scooped his surprised friend up in his arms and staggered back through the doorway to the bed. His strength held out just long enough to deposit him there without looking too winded.   
  
Laughing, Duo pulled him down and rolled on top. "Showing off, are we?"   
  
"Yes." Heero kissed him again, then gazed into his eyes. "You are even more beautiful than usual in this light. It makes me feel like protecting you and always being here with you--"  
  
The speech, delivered in his usual guarded monotone, didn't have quite the effect he'd hoped. Duo stared down at him for a moment and began to laugh. Not just a chuckle or a giggle, either, but hard, rolling belly laughs that shook the bed.   
  
"What the hell's gotten into you?" he demanded, getting his breath at last. He was grinning, and didn't seem at all offended, but it was not a reaction that spoke of feeling romantic or cherished and safe.  
  
Heero sighed again, defaulted to familiar, and ran his hands down Duo's back to his butt, cupping those firm cheeks through the denim. "I love you. I want to show you that I do."  
  
"You do, baby! Every time I look at you, every time you touch me, I know that." Duo kissed him again, long and hot. Duo was good at this sort of thing. With just those few heartfelt words and a kiss, he made Heero feel very aroused and very cherished and safe. But Heero didn't see the same emotions in Duo's eyes. There was still a question there, just behind the lust and affection.   
  
This required more research. The computer in the next room should suffice. When he moved to get up, however, Duo had other ideas.   
  
"Where do you think you're going, lover?" he purred, holding Heero in place with one hand, and reaching down to stroke Heero's semi hard cock through his jeans with the other. "You're not going to go all Rhett Butler on me, then leave, are ya?"  
  
Heero didn't recognize the reference, but assumed it had something to do with him carrying Duo. Despite the somewhat dominate action on his part, Duo seemed to be taking control of the situation. Heero's body responded, even as his mission mind floundered. "I won't leave, Duo. What would you like to do?"  
  
"I'd like to christen this bed with you, baby!" The purr was fast becoming a growl of lust. "My butt's still kinda sore from the other day, but if _you_ wanted to give it another try yourself, well . . ."  
  
He let the question hang between them, gauging Heero's reaction. Duo had only taken the top position once so far, but Heero knew that previous to their relationship, it had been his chosen role. Heero had been surprised at his own enjoyment of it at the time, but had attributed that to the heat of the moment and necessity. He hadn't given the matter adequate thought since, to know if he wanted to assume the bottom role again. Looking up into those passion-heated eyes now, darkened from violet to near storm purple in the failing light, and feeling the heat and lust radiating from the lean body pressing down on his, Heero's body decided it was time to establish another data point. Clutching Duo's ass in both hands, he ground his now hard erection up against Duo's. "Fuck me, Duo."  
  
He heard the gratifying catch in Duo's breath, saw the color rise in his cheeks. "Oh, yeah!" The low, harsh tone stiffened Heero's already hard cock and raised the hair on his arms and neck.  
  
Duo kissed him again, then none too gently bit his way down Heero's neck. Shoving Heero's shirt up under his arms, he kissed and nibbled his way down to his belt, pulled it open, and wrestled the jeans down as far as Heero's knees. Planting a hand firmly in the middle of Heero's chest, he held him still for a rough, sloppy blowjob, slurping and sucking noisily in a way that made Heero moan and arch under the onslaught. Just when he felt the first tightening in his balls, however, Duo flipped him over, pulled him up on his knees and paused.   
  
Head cradled on his arms, Heero willed himself to relax, expecting a hard fuck, payback for the roughness on the plane. Instead, he felt gentle fingers tickle down his back and over his buttocks, teasing and arousing without any roughness at all. Then Duo was kissing his way down the same path, lapping and laving his tongue down the cleft of Heero's ass, skirting playfully around his opening, and then lots of wet, sloppy tongue kissing over the super sensitive skin behind his balls. When Heero was shivering and moaning, cool slicked fingers penetrated him, stretching and preparing with loving care, then the blunt, well slicked head of Duo's cock, opening and filling him from behind.   
  
And once again, it was exactly what Heero wanted. Every slow, lazy thrust sent waves of pleasure all over his body. Pushing himself up on his arms, he rocked back, taking Duo deeper and deeper, loving the moans and gasps and crooning obscenities this wrested from his lover's lips.   
  
"Oh, Heero! O fuck, you're sooooooo good! So hot. So tight! Damn, you're good to me. I love you, Heero, love you so much!"  
  
"I love you, Duo!" Heero managed, dangerously close to a sob as he felt himself tipping over the delicious edge of climax, not even needing a hand on his cock to come in a glorious burst of sensation. It broke over him like a wave on the beach outside, but one made of the pure golden sunlight. It took his breath way, and then gave it back in a long, breathy groan of ecstasy. "Duo! Yes, Duo!"  
  
And then Duo was coming in a sudden flurry of rapid, hard driving thrusts that sent Heero into a gasping secondary orgasm.   
  
They collapsed together, rolling away from the already cooling puddle of Heero's cum, soaking into the velvet and silk spread.   
  
'Probably should have pulled that back,' Heero thought, but couldn't muster too much concern. His shirt was still rucked up under his armpits, his jeans tangled around his feet. Duo had shucked off his own clothes at some point and lay naked and glowing and utterly relaxed against Heero, humming softly under his breath as they both drifted.  
  
Had that been romantic? Heero wasn't sure, but thought it might have been, even if it hadn't turned out exactly as he'd intended. It was a start, anyway.   
  
The evening breeze turned cold. He managed to get them both under the covers, but left the window open, enjoying the crisp ocean scent. He dozed off, woke later to find the room bright with moonlight. That was romantic, too. He would take advantage of that tomorrow night. Then sleep took him in earnest and he sank happily, Duo warm and solid and real and his beside him.  
  
Tomorrow he would begin his research in earnest.


	26. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero waited until he heard Duo singing in the shower, then slipped into the tower room next door, started up the computer, and opened his first search of the day.   
  
Ten minutes later he'd established to his own satisfaction that the term "Indian summer" had originated here in Old America in the eighteenth century, pre-Colony. It was defined as any spell of warm, quiet, hazy weather that may occur in October or even early November. Other weather phenomena associated with a true Indian Summer included dry, hazy conditions and southwesterly winds that occurred after the first killing frost. He wasn't certain what a killing frost was, but they must have missed it, for the weather was certainly as described. Earliest documentation of the term appeared to be a letter written by an expatriate French farmer named St. John de Crevecoeur in Pre-Colony year 1778. "Sometimes the rain is followed by an interval of calm and warmth which is called the Indian Summer; its characteristics are a tranquil atmosphere and general smokiness." Another listing's author seemed to feel it had something to do either with Native Americans who'd used the mild weather to hunt and harvest crops in preparation for the winter, or with white settlers who'd used the word "Indian" as a pejorative, suggesting falsity and something to be distrusted. Whatever the case, Heero thought it was a very nice time of year to be on this part of Earth.   
  
He cleared that search and typed in the next one. "Courtship, homosexual." This proved to be less than helpful, mostly historical references and condemnations by various religious groups. While the ancient Greek laws and customs for carrying off "boy brides" looked like interesting reading, it was not relevant to the morning's mission.  
  
He cleared the window and typed in: "Dating, gay." This came up with hundreds of hits, but they all seemed to be advertisements for matchmaking services and online chat rooms. Heero growled in frustration. He already had a lover; he just needed to know how to entertain him! According to what he saw here, sex was the be all and end all for any type of relationship between two men. He knew better.  
  
The shower had stopped, but Duo was still in the bathroom and still singing. Still off key, too, but he didn't mind. A singing Duo was a happy Duo. Sex clearly did make Duo happy, at least for a while. But Heero kept remembering the look of challenge in Duo's eyes as he'd pushed Heero for a reaction on the shuttle flight. There was something he needed from Heero, something the violence and spanking and rough sex had assuaged for the time being. But Heero still felt like he'd been asked a question and not understood what the answer had been.  
  
Which left him floundering for alternatives.  
  
He stared at the screen for a moment, recalling what he'd read about Duo in the news during all those lonely months. Duo and the others had frequented sex clubs; there had been many stories about that. Not applicable to the current mission, he thought, frowning in a way that would have alarmed a casual onlooker.  
  
They'd also enjoyed going to dance clubs. Heero's training had covered that skill. He'd never actually enjoyed the few times he'd had to exercise it as an infiltration strategy, but he'd been told he was good at it and so was reasonably certain he could perform at a level that would please his current prospective partner. He ran a search on "Dance club, gay, New Provincetown, MA." This yielded eighty-seven hits. He scanned the first few pages and was quickly overwhelmed by the number of duplicate, incomprehensible, or simply inappropriate sites. He had no idea what a "tea dance" was, but it sounded boring. He knew what "leather" meant and dismissed those as well. He refined the search further, filtering out "lesbian", "girl", "drag", "leather", "S&M", "B&D", and "tea dance." This left him with a dozen or so likely prospects, establishments that catered to male patrons whose intention seemed to include at least some actual dancing. Scanning the various offerings, he now realized he didn't know what sort of music Duo liked to dance to. Heero's training had been extensive and he was reasonably certain he could blend in to most venues, but that wasn't the issue. He wanted to surprise Duo, and please him. Taking him to a place that played music he did not enjoy would be counterproductive.   
  
He could simply ask Duo, but he was already committed to the element of surprise. He wasn't certain why, exactly. Perhaps it was a matter of habit in mission planning, only this time he was surprising a lover rather than an enemy. Whatever the case, he wasn't willing to admit defeat just yet.  
  
Quatre would know. He glanced up at the clock reading in the upper right corner of the screen. It was currently the middle of the night on L-4, too late to call. Clearing the search field again, he pulled up a global news archive and typed in "Duo Maxwell, clubbing."   
  
Bingo. Dozens of stories scrolled down the screen: celebrity sightings, mostly, and arrest reports. Now it was a simple matter to research the clubs he'd been seen in. Many of them had websites.  
  
This strategy proved sound. By the time Duo finished in the bathroom and started bumping around in the bedroom, Heero had a representative sampling that suggested that Duo liked techno, retro rock, and something called "hyper glam." The latter, upon further research, appeared to involve a form of dress Heero did not want to adopt-lots of make up and revealing clothing. Quatre had something of this look. That was fine for the petit blond, but Heero cringed at the thought of see through jeans and three colors of glitter on his eyelids. He added that classification to his search filter and concentrated on the other two.   
  
New Provincetown had a number of clubs specializing in techno and rock music. Scanning pictures at their websites, Heero found several places that looked promising. Reformatting his parameters yet again, he filtered by age, whether or not they offered a waterfront view, required reservations, and if they served food. In the process he looked at some photos on their sites and realized that while his current wardrobe was more than adequate for his usual needs, none of it except perhaps the leather jacket qualified as club wear. Neither did the few clothes Duo had with him, for that matter.  
  
Duo had gone very quiet. That could be a bad thing, given how quietly Duo moved when he wanted to. Heero turned with a start, half-expecting to find the grinning baka right behind him, but the door was still closed. Committing several club names to memory, he purged the history and memory cache, did a quick search on New Provincetown clothing stores, purged that. By the time Duo did drift in to see what he was up to, he was at his favorite online computer store, ordering his new laptop.   
  
"Y'know, when I fell for you, I didn't know you were loaded," Duo chuckled, nuzzling the back of Heero's neck as he watched him enter his credit info from memory.   
  
"You hacked my bank files."  
  
"Wufei helped. We were just trying to figure out where you'd-"  
  
"I don't mind," Heero assured him. "In your place I'd have done the same. It was a very astute tactic."  
  
A proximity alarm keyed into the computer flashed a warning on the screen, chiming softly.  
  
"That's the one off the main road." Going to the window, they watched a large brown Global Parcel Service truck appear over the lip of dunes.  
  
He was halfway to the door when Duo tossed him the Glock. "Take back up," he said, drawing his Sig Saur. "I'm more likely to recognize them."  
  
Heero followed him downstairs and remained concealed just inside the door as Duo stepped out to greet the deliveryman. The young black driver greeted Duo as if he knew him and chatted amiably as Duo followed him to the back of the van. As soon as it was open, Duo gave a subtle "all clear" sign, signaling Heero to stand down. Heero slipped the pistol into the back of his jeans and pulled his sweater down to cover it as he went out to join them.  
  
The delivery consisted of two large plastic shipping containers and a locked duffle. All of them were labeled in Quatre's neat script. One of the boxes was marked as fragile.  
  
As soon as the deliveryman had been seen off, Duo hauled the boxes into one of the empty downstairs bedrooms and pulled them open with obvious delight. "There, now I can get to work!"  
  
One box was packed with squares of very fine, supple leather in a variety of colors. The other held various artist supplies-sketch pads, paints and lacquers, little bottles of gilt paint, and canvass rolls of brushes and knives. Lifting out the stacks of leather, Duo took out two smaller boxes and opened them to show Heero life sized, very accurate plastic casts of Trowa and Quatre's faces.   
  
"What's all this?" Heero asked, intrigued.  
  
Duo grinned. "You are looking at the new official mask maker for Barton and Bloom's Traveling Show of Wonders! At least for the guys, anyway. I started out doing face painting on kids, and I guess I must have had a knack, 'cause Catherine apprenticed me to the old guy who does the mask. Turns out I've got a knack for that, too. Tro and Kat asked if I'd come up with something new for the New Orleans shows." He flipped open a sketchpad and showed Heero some drawings he'd done in colored pencil. They were only preliminary studies, but Heero thought they were very good, if rather bizarre. Some looked like animals, and there were several sets clearly modeled on their Gundams' faceplates-which had been designed to scare the piss out of Oz soldiers and done a pretty good job of it. But many of the drawings were darker than that, even. But others were ethereal, even pretty.   
  
"Are these for Catherine?" Heero asked, pointing at some of the latter.   
  
Duo grinned and shook his head. "Nope. Guess again."  
  
"Quatre."  
  
"Right! But I'm just playing around. I've still got to nail down the final designs and get started. It takes a couple of weeks sometimes, to finish one, what with drying times and lacquering and all. You can help, if you want."  
  
Heero nodded. He'd never done anything vaguely artistic, but he'd been trained to draw accurately, and to manufacture things. As he bent to take another sketchbook out he felt the Glock dig into his back. He drew it and handed it back to Duo.  
  
Duo shook his head. "Hang onto that, why don't you?"  
  
Heero looked down at the gun, considering the question carefully. This was the second time Duo had offered him a weapon. It was a show of trust, a demonstratoin that he didn't think Heero would hurt himself. Heero did not feel suicidal, hadn't since he regained his senses in Madrid. No, the gun felt good in his hand, even though it was smaller than the one he'd once carried. The sheen of gun oil, the faint smell of it and cordite-- there was a rightness and familiarity to it that made him slip the weapon back into his waistband. As Duo handed him the ankle holster he'd been wearing, Heerp was surprised to catch a glimpse of relief on his lover's face, and something else, too. He wasn't quite sure what to call that look but suddenly he knew that he'd done something right, given Duo some sign he'd been waiting for.   
  
He'd made Duo feel safer! Heero wondered if this was Duo's idea of a romantic gesture? If so, it was one Heero could comprehend all too well himself, but it still smacked too close to their violent past for comfort. He'd keep the gun, and use it to make Duo feel safe but damn it, he was still taking him dancing!


	27. New Paths, Old Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero and Duo took things easy for the next few days, trying to find a rhythm for this strange new place in their lives they found themselves in. Duo had to keep reminding himself that less than two weeks ago he'd still been shuttling between numbness and despair, unable to stop mourning for the finality of Heero's loss and unable to find a direction for his own life. Now, as the shock of Heero's return began to wear off, he found himself head over heels in love with this "new" Heero who'd come back to them, even as he learned how different that man was from the cold, seemingly emotionless boy he'd known before.  
  
In many ways, though, Heero was still very much Heero. No one was going to mistake him for the normal, lighthearted boy-next-door. His normal expression would still scare small children. He still looked at strangers as if they were enemy mobile suits. He still spent what Duo considered an unhealthy amount of time on line, first with the computer Quatre had provided, and now on the compact, state of the art new laptop that arrived two days after Heero ordered it. He also still spoke in that seemingly toneless way that sounded robotic to anyone who didn't know him as well as the other Gundam pilots.  
  
Not only that, but now that Heero was getting healthy again, he still reached for a gun at all the right moments. Duo had been ecstatic when he'd finally accepted the Glock. It made him feel--what? Like Heero was really better? Like life was falling back into a pattern Duo Maxwell understood? He wasn't sure. He was just fucking glad that Heero Yuy wasn't afraid of guns anymore. Let Dr. Batoosingh make of that what he would.  
  
So Heero was, in a word, still weird in his own unique way, yet also warmer in general, more engaged with life around him than Duo had ever imagined possible. And more sensual and passionate than he'd ever dared dream to hope! For the first time since they'd first met, Duo saw Heero really trying to follow that long-ago advice to follow his feelings.  
  
That some of those feelings led to the most mind-blowing sex Duo had ever known was a definite bonus, as far as he was concerned. For someone who'd ignored sex and stayed a virgin most of his life, Heero was one hell of a fast learner. When Heero "Perfect Soldier" Yuy made up his mind to master a new skill? Watch out! He was unstoppable and so focused it was scary. Talk about zero to sixty in record time. Well, zero to sixty-nine, and beyond, Duo thought with a happy shiver of lust. Not that he wasn't just as bad. All it took these days was one heated glance from Heero, or even a non-heated one, and Duo was hard and ready for anything! The way things were going, he'd be happy to just spend the rest of his life in bed with this new and improved 01.  
  
For the next few days when Duo wasn't working on the masks and teaching Heero that craft, they slept late, ate simple meals, spent hours walking the windswept beach, and made love anywhere they felt like it. That was a particular luxury, considering recent experience.  
  
Their big bed was great--hell they'd had to change the sheets twice already-- but Duo liked to experiment and found Heero just as willing. Together they ended up making a game of "christening" every room of the house, even the cramped, dusty attic space above the tower, both bathtubs (which seemed designed especially with such pastimes in mind) and a rather rushed and chilly session on the rooftop widow's walk. Hands braced against the low wrought iron railing, Duo had been able to admire the distant lights of New Provincetown as he came and shouted and prayed that he could keep his knees from giving out long enough to keep Heero and himself from pitching over the side.  
  
The wide rope hammock on the porch was novel but uncomfortable, not to mention unstable. Once was plenty for that. The only thing so far that Heero had just plain vetoed was making love in the dunes, both for security and hygienic reasons. As he'd patiently pointed out, no matter how hard they tried to be careful during their beach combing trips, they always ended up with fine, sugary white sand in their clothes and stuck to their skin. Heero insisted that no amount of care and blankets would prevent it from getting into more intimate places if they followed Duo's "sex on the beach" scenario. He firmly refused to take that risk, citing the potential recovery time that might result. Duo had to agree; the rewards weren't worth the risk.  
  
Life wasn't all sex and hair brushing--oh yeah, Heero Yuy still had a thing for his hair! Duo only had a couple of weeks to get the masks ready for the guys' debut in New Orleans. Even with Heero's assistance, he didn't have time to dawdle.  
  
Trowa and Kat had remained stubbornly secretive about the exact nature of their new acts, but they'd had no choice but to share Quatre's sketches for the costumes and some guidelines so that Duo could design appropriate face gear. The masks had to be close fitting and fastened on tightly, with no obstruction to vision or breathing. The one Trowa would wear for "Red Silk" had to be especially minimalist, with nothing loose at all.  
  
The costume for that act was a sheer, hand-painted singlet that would cover Trowa's slim body like a second skin from shoulders to knees. If they stuck to Quatre's sketches, the designs on the suit, augmented with some body paint, would give Trowa a rather ghostly appearance. The overall color scheme was much paler than his usual choices: a bone white background with swirls of pale, metallic silver, black and blue. Quatre gave every costume he designed a name, meant to capture the spirit of the act. This one was called "Passages" whatever the hell that meant.  
  
According to Catherine, who'd known Trowa the longest, Trowa's earlier acrobatic clowning, animal work and trapeze work had all been standard, if inspired, circus business, designed to entertain and thrill. Since the war's end, with Trowa working full time instead of as a cover, he and Catherine were trying to take the old show in a new direction.  
  
Somewhere along the way, Trowa had discovered recordings of a 20th century pre-colony Canadian circus named Cirque de Soleil. Duo had watched some of them and was amazed at the difference. That circus had been more like theatre. There were no animal acts, for one thing, and each season's performances were done in the form of a loose, wordless story, with recurring themes, often in a made up, gibberish language or one foreign to the audience. The acts, mostly acrobatic in nature, were thrilling, but also charged with emotion. Costumes, music, even the other business going on in the ring at the same time all melded into a coherent whole, like a painting in motion.  
  
A lot of it was artsy-fartsy egghead stuff Duo didn't really get, especially some of the clown acts, but it was pretty and the aerial acts were fucking impressive. Tro, Kat and Catherine were really excited about it and had been working elements of that into the new season. For that reason in New Orleans there would be daytime, family-oriented shows, and a few special, adults-only night shows. Judging by the costume designs for those, it was going to be no place for kids. Trowa's trapeze costume looked like a demonic version of Heavyarms. And what he and Quatre planned to wear for whatever it was they were doing together? Well, it was just this side of pornographic, just leather thongs and body paint, in sketches titled "Meld". And, of course, the masks.  
  
"Quatre did say he was worried about his family's reaction," Heero said, eyeing those sketches. "Perhaps this is why?"  
  
"Like I told him," Duo chuckled, making a few last changes to his drawings. "No one will even know it's him when I get done with him."  
  
+  
  
Duo's studio, as Heero thought of the downstairs room they'd set up for the mask making project, soon became one of Heero's favorite places in the house. The light was good here, and they'd moved in a couch and a couple of the long worktables from the kitchen. One was set up for the wet and messy business of the actual leatherwork. The other would be a clean, dry surfaced for curing and painting.  
  
Heero watched with genuine interest as Duo demonstrated how the fine vegetable-tanned leather had to be scraped, or skived, to the proper thickness, then soaked briefly in a pan of hot water to make it more pliable. When it was ready, he had Heero pull it over one of the block forms of Trowa's face and tack the edges to the back of it. Then, using everything from a small hammer to bits of natural cow horn and antler and shaped pieces of wood called "thumbs", they pressed the leather to conform to the cast facial features. When it was tight, Duo used a razor-sharp scalpel to cut holes for the eyes and mouth. After that, he showed Heero how to burnish the leather smooth with one of the thumbs. After that it would dry overnight. When it was completely dry, it would be removed from the form, the edges carefully trimmed, rolled and burnished smooth, and then it was ready for decoration, which could take days depending on how many layers of color were needed, and if other materials, like feathers, glass jewels, ribbons or braid trim, and beads were to be added.  
  
"That's the basics," Duo said, seeming pleased with Heero's work. "What I have to do is a bit trickier."  
  
Heero helped Duo unpack the rest of the face forms and found that most were of Trowa's face, and the many of these had had the features altered to accentuate or exaggerate the features. Some only partly realized, for half masks like the one Trowa had originally worn when he was clowning in the early days.  
  
Quatre's sketches called for masks that covered the face only from forehead to just under the nose, but with fancy extensions formed like wings or other fantastic shapes around the wearer's head. This was achieved by leaving lots of extra leather around the form, the cutting and pinching it into whatever elaborate shape was called for.  
  
"This smaller, visor-style works best for Trowa," Duo explained, showing him drawings for much simpler, smaller masks. "It lets him move his face and jaw without dislodging the mask, and doesn't obstruct his breathing."  
  
Leaving Heero to experiment with his newfound skills, Duo unfolded a cardboard sheet printed with a large grid, took out an impressive array of calipers, compasses and other drawing tools and started transforming his designs into paper patterns. He referred often to a small notebook filled with various measurements he'd taken from his friends' faces.  
  
Heero found himself entranced as Duo quickly lost himself in this work. His face was serious, but relaxed, and he kept up an almost continuous stream of quiet noise, either humming along with the radio on the windowsill or muttering to himself under his breath, a running self-commentary on measurements and shapes. Heero smiled. This sort of thing was why Wufei had always referred to Duo as "the noisy one." No matter what the situation, that mouth just didn't keep still for long.  
  
None of this distracted Heero from noting Duo's talent. Like all the other Gundam pilots he'd either been trained or already possessed some natural talent for drawing. They'd often needed that in the field to capture accurate plans of enemy installations or weapons, but Duo's skills clearly extended far beyond that.  
  
Heero found himself wishing he had a camera to capture this Duo, perched on his stool in his stained canvas apron, the ocean light striking him just right as he bent intently over his work. Heero had seen him like this before, he realized, but he'd been making bombs at the time, with all the same deft skill and intensity.  
  
So caught up in his work was he that Duo didn't even notice when Heero borrowed one of the sketchbooks and a pencil and tried his hand at drawing Duo. Both Lowe and J had fostered Heero's natural talent, and he'd spent a lot of time learning from books, as well, telling himself in those days that it was a useful, practical skill to be refined and mastered. Only now did he discover that without the pressure of a mission or clandestine recon, drawing a subject of his choosing for no practical reason beyond wanting to was really quite pleasurable. In a few minutes he'd roughed in Duo's profile, capturing the curve of his cheek, the angle of his lowered eye lid, the thoughtful set of his mouth and chin. He kept the table and it's scattered tools to a few spare, suggestive lines, concentrating instead on the relation of Duo's body over it, the way the apron was folded in the front, how the dark tee-shirt hugged his back and shoulders, the way his braid lay over his shoulder, stray tendrils escaping here and there to glint in the sunlight.  
  
As he worked, some part of Heero's mind registered his detachment. Concentrating on the task at hand, he could forget emotion for a while, and see his sensual, complex lover from a new angle unclouded by desire or frustration. It was much the same way he'd looked at the enemy, not hampered by feelings of empathy or even anger. It had allowed him to fight without remorse. Now it allowed him a mental clarity that was freeing. When he finished, a very good rendering of Duo filled half the page, with the suggestion of the window and room. Setting the pencil aside, he felt rather pleased with himself. This was better than a photograph; without meaning to, he'd somehow captured a bit of the moment, though he couldn't put it into words. The picture just "felt" like the scene he'd been looking at. He wondered if he looked at it a year from now, if he would recall the moment very clearly, the way smells were said to trigger strong memories.  
  
"Damn, Heero, that's good!"  
  
Looking up, he found Duo staring at his drawing. "It was only a quick sketch, but I am pleased."  
  
Duo bent and rummaged in one of the boxes under the table, then presented Heero with a handful of new drawing pencils and a black, spiral bound sketchbook still sealed in shrink-wrap. Unwrapping the book, Heero tucked his first drawing in between the first few pages. Then, as a thought struck, he took it out again and, at the bottom of the page, printed in small letters "#1: D. at work. CC house. 09/14/198."  
  
Duo leaned on his shoulder. "You're really good, you know. Want to do some life studies on me?"  
  
"Life studies?"  
  
Duo pulled his shirt off, dropped his pants and struck a pose. "Life studies."  
  
That was the end of their work session for that day, and Heero didn't get any drawing done at all for a while, but his second attempt was a fairly detailed rendering of Duo sprawled asleep on the workroom couch. Heero thought he captured the blissful smile quite well.  
  
+  
  
Heero continued his research on dating during stolen moments over the next few days, but still felt poorly prepared for his first mission. He picked up the phone several times to call Quatre, but each time something stopped him. Embarrassment, perhaps, or pride. Whatever the case, he decided at last to come up with his own plan. After all, Duo was nothing like Trowa or Quatre, so their advice would be of questionable use anyway.  
  
That's what he told himself, at least. Never mind the fact that he was finding the research to be rather enjoyable. In the meantime, Duo had given no sign of needing any form of violent sex or reassurance. Instead, he was proving to be insatiable and highly creative. Heero discovered with chagrin that being taken up the ass from behind was as much a pleasure for him as it was for Duo, though from a purely mental standpoint, he still preferred to be the one on top most of the time. Duo laughingly labeled him a control freak, but with his own recently discovered preference for being the bottom, they decided they were both happy and well matched. Duo did seem especially pleased when Heero discovered that he liked having Duo tied to the bed now and then. Secretly, he hoped that bondage would suffice to fill Duo's darker needs for now. Like drawing, Heero was very skilled with restraints.  
  
By the end of their first week Heero decided it was time to equip himself for the upcoming mission. His research had determined that everything he needed was available in New Provincetown. He committed a city plan and various addresses to memory. To avoid undue questions from Duo, he made love to him late into the night, a sure way to guarantee that Duo would sleep deeply and long. Heero woke himself at dawn, showered and dressed in the downstairs bathroom, then went into the workroom to write a note, knowing Duo might draw the wrong conclusion if he woke to find Heero missing without explanation.  
  
He thought a moment, hand poised over the blank sketchbook page. It needed to contain just enough information to keep Duo from becoming worried at any prolonged absence, without giving too much away.  
  
_Duo, have gone shopping today. Time frame undetermined. Mission on a need to know basis. Can be reached by cell phone. Call me with any purchase requests. Stay away from my computer. There is no information there. Plan on me for dinner._  
  
He read it over and frowned. Even to him it sounded a bit terse, but he had no idea how to deliver the required information any better than that. He considered the problem for a moment, impatient to get going before Duo woke up. At last he signed it "Love, Heero." That still seemed rather cold. Grudgingly, feeling very silly, he printed "xoxoxoxo" under his signature. Relena had done that on the notes she used to slip him. According to her, that was code for hugs and kisses. He stared down at the line of gibberish for a moment, realizing he was blushing. Not giving himself time to change his mind, he tore out the page and left it on the kitchen counter next to the coffee maker. Another thought struck him and he took the few extra minutes to load the grounds and water into the coffee maker and set the timer for an hour later. Duo would appreciate the gesture; Heero was usually the one awake enough to make coffee in the morning. With that done, he slipped out the back door and was almost to the car when another inspiration struck. This one seemed even sillier and more embarrassing than the hugging code, but he made himself do it anyway. He was several miles down the coastal road before he managed to make himself stop obsessing over that one. He just hoped Duo didn't laugh at him too much when he got home.  
  
As uncomfortable and out of character as such efforts made him, and Heero knew that much worse was likely to come later today during his current self appointed mission, the fact that he could just as easily decide _not_ to do such things was not a viable option. Not if he followed his feelings.  
  
Troublesome, embarrassing things, feelings, but when it came to pleasing Duo, they seemed to be worth it. So far, anyway  
  
+  
  
Duo woke up and reached for Heero, only to find no one there. He sat up and looked around, instincts telling him instantly that Heero was not in the room and hadn't been for some time. The clock by the bed told him it was nearly noon. The bed was cool except where he'd been sleeping, and he'd have been able to smell it on the air if Heero had taken a shower in their bathroom. He hadn't, but his sneakers were gone from their neat place by the closet door and, on closer inspection, so was his jacket. Duo stood at the open closet door, yawning and scratching himself awake. Lucky for him, Heero didn't have many clothes and they'd just done laundry. Checking hangars and shelves inside, he saw that the sweater and white Oxford were still there, but a dark red tee shirt was missing, and the blue jeans they'd washed yesterday. Looked like Heero had gone out for a walk on the beach at some point. Duo hoped he was back.  
  
He wasn't awake enough to question that last thought.  
  
Unconcerned with modesty and still lacking a bathrobe, he wandered out naked to the head of the staircase. "Heero?" No answer, but he could smell hot coffee. So Heero couldn't have gone far, right?  
  
It had always freaked him out a little when Tro and Kat took care of him; Duo had never let himself rely on anyone growing up, except for that brief time at Maxwell Church, and look how that turned out. On the streets, self-reliance was part of the code. So it should have bugged the shit out of him when Heero did little things like making the coffee or folding the laundry just so or cleaning up scraps in the art studio while Duo worked. But it didn't. None of it. Instead, it made him feel all gooey inside, like a lovesick schoolgirl with her first crush. He should have hated that, too, and gone all Shinigami on 01, but he didn't. No, it made him want to go all Shinigami on Heero in a whole different, very mutually pleasurable away.  
  
In fact, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the fact that Heero had let him sleep in yet again made him feel like doing that right this very minute. Grinning, he crept silently down the stairs and peered into the living room, intending to jump Heero if he wasn't holding hot coffee or anything sharp.  
  
No Heero there.  
  
He moved on to the workroom, and then the kitchen. No Heero, or any sign or sound of him, either. And no instinctive prickling at the back of Duo's neck, either, to warn him that his lover had once again turned the tables and was stalking him. Nope, nothing. And no leather jacket on the coat tree by the front door, or neatly hung over a kitchen chair.  
  
"Huh, must still be out on the beach," Duo muttered, trying to ignore the stupid, silly little pang of emptiness he felt as he headed for the coffeepot. Only then did he see the note lying there, held in place by a juice glass holding three faded, end of season beach roses.  
  
He stopped dead at the sight of it. This was a totally unforeseen development. In Duo's limited experience, notes were usually a Bad Thing. Not always, he told himself, but his heart was suddenly in his throat as he forced himself the last few feet to the counter. Moving the flowers aside, he picked up the note, read it, puzzled over the gibberish letters under Heero's signature, then twigged to what they must mean and burst out laughing. "Oh, Yuy!" he gasped, recovering a little. "Get your ass home!"  
  
+  
  
According to Heero's research, New Provincetown had been founded in AC 25, and had been designed to reflect native architecture that had been lost when the end of the Cape was swept away, using lots of red brick and fake antiques. Nonetheless, it was clearly geared to be a tourist haven and the center of the small city was comprised of a dense cluster of waterfront access streets lined with shops, restaurants and club establishments, the most exclusive overlooking the harbor and marinas. Beyond this center were neighborhoods made up mostly of expensive seasonal condominiums and even more expensive homes. Many of them were neo-Victorian, like the house he was staying at with Duo. Others were something called "salt box" or more modern, rather bland modern style, with lots of balconies and large windows to catch the ocean view. On the landward side, more modest neighborhoods catered to year round residents, many of whom made their livings catering to the needs of the wealthy tourists. Heero had found himself delving into the water supply, power stations, and local law enforcement almost before he realized what he was doing. That wasn't really necessary anymore, but once again, he found that old habits died hard.  
  
His early departure brought him to the outskirts of town with an hour and a half to kill before the shops opened at ten. He spent some time on recon, locating some of the shops and clubs he'd targeted, then withdrew cash from an ATM and stopped at a corner convenience store gas station for fuel and coffee.  
  
He'd worn dark glasses and nondescript clothing, but bought a dark blue baseball-style cap off the rack next to the cash register for added protection. The bored young girl behind the counter gave no sign of recognizing him, or caring.  
  
The first two shops he tried were disappointing. The first clearly catered to high school kids, and the second featured colors that assaulted Heero's eyes and deafening dance music to shop by. In the past when he'd needed new clothing it had either been provided to him, stolen, or bought online. Now he found himself faced with crowded racks of apparel in no immediately discernable order and sales people who seemed more interested in talking to each other than him.  
  
It was a bit of a relief to find that the third place on his list had gone out of business. The fourth and fifth didn't suit him, either. Examining the outfits they had on display, he realized that he couldn't picture himself in any of them.  
  
By two thirty he was tired, discouraged, hungry, and nearly ready to fall back on online shopping. The next to the last shop, a place called Loose Threads, proved so hard to find he almost gave up. But the website had promised "the best designer club wear in the region," so he downed a canned protein shake and kept looking.  
  
It turned out to be a small, unremarkable storefront hidden away on a narrow side street several blocks from the harbor. He circled the block twice before he actually spotted it. It had no display windows, and no sign, just the street numbers and name in small gold letters on a curtained glass door, and a small cardboard sign hanging above it that read "Open".  
  
Carefully locking the car, he pulled down his hat brim and went in. Inside it was smaller and darker than the others stores, and no music was playing. Some of the suggested ensembles displayed on the walls looked promising, too.  
  
There was only one clerk on duty at the moment, at work arranging jewelry on rack beside the register. "Be right with you!" he called out.  
  
Heero remained near the door, studying the man. He looked like a taller, older version of Quatre. His ragged bleached blond hair was tipped with a brilliant blue, and his ears and eyebrows glittered with the gold and silver of multiple piercings. Both wrists were heavy with assorted bracelets of braided leather and silver bangles and he wore so many large rings Heero wasn't sure how he could function. But his clothes were reasonably sensible, just a soft-looking dark blue shirt over low-slung beige jeans.  
  
After a moment the man looked up and smiled. "May I help you?" It was the first show of genuine interest Heero had seen today.  
  
"I need club wear."  
  
The clerk's eyes widened and his polite smile became an incredulous grin. Coming out from behind the counter, he strode over. "It _is_ you, isn't it? I mean, when you came in I thought 'Wow, he looks kinda like Heero Yuy.' But that voice? I'd know--"  
  
Heero had anticipated this sort of situation. Removing his glasses, he nodded curtly, then held out a crisp $100 bill. "I am not here. I was never here."  
  
The clerk laughed and brushed the money aside. "Oh, put that away! Don't worry, I deal with celebs all the time." Going to the door, he threw the lock and flipped the sign to 'Closed.' "There now, all nice and private." He held out his hand, bracelets rustling. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Never-was-here. I'm Nicky. What can I do you for?"  
  
Taken aback by this sudden reversal, Heero stuffed the bill in his coat pocket and awkwardly shook hands. "I--I require suitable attire to go to a dance club. For myself, and--a friend," he added reluctantly.  
  
"Friend, eh? Hmm, let me guess. A certain someone just about your height, disgustingly slim, with _amazing_ long brown hair, legs that go on forever, and gorgeous big blue eyes?"  
  
Heero tensed, though he supposed it had been all over the news here, too.  
  
Nicky laughed. "Rumors of a 'G-Boy' sighting have been flying around town for a couple of days now."  
  
"I thought people were discreet around here," Heero growled.  
  
"Yeah, right." Nicky shrugged. "You have to admit, he's hard to miss. And he and your other friends aren't exactly strangers around here, either. The W-Bs have been regulars for a couple of years now. Check this out." He beckoned Heero to the back of the store. The man seemed harmless enough, but Heero's hand still strayed to the Glock in his right coat pocket as he followed him to the register counter.  
  
A large bulletin board edged in rainbow colored ribbon hung on the wall behind it, with "Our Heroes" scrawled across the top in red marker. The board was covered with photos and news clippings of what Heero assumed were celebrities, most of them male. Trowa and Quatre were featured in many of them, caught together in various public locations. Duo was in some, too, though not as many. In one photo the three of them were standing here at this counter with Nicky and some other young men.  
  
The clerk reached under the counter and pulled out a page cut from a magazine. "I was just about to hang this new one up when you came in," he said, placing it on the counter for Heero to see. It was a full-page color shot of him kissing Duo on the steps of the Madrid hospital.  
  
"Out of the closet less than two weeks and you already made our wall of honor. Then in you walk! I take it your friends recommended us? This is one of their favorite shops."  
  
Heero ignored the question. If he'd been on a real wartime mission, talkative Mr. Too-Much-Inside-Info here would already be a corpse cooling in the back room. Trying not to show his annoyance, he studied the photo.  
  
It was a good one. The photographer had caught them just as Duo had recovered from his surprise. He had one hand on Heero's shoulder, the other hanging loose at his side. The long grey wool coat hung open and he was bent back slightly as Heero held him around the waist and leaned into the kiss. Both of them had their eyes closed and Duo was grinning against Heero's lips, looking very happy. Heero stared at his own face in the picture; he thought he looked happy, too, but also rather determined. In the background several Spanish policemen were either grinning or looking shocked and Quatre was laughing. Trowa was partly visible at the edge of the scene, just coming out of the door. He appeared to be frowning at someone or something off to one side, both eyes obscured by his bangs. Underneath, a caption read, "Question answered!"  
  
Nicky reached behind the counter and took out another picture in a wooden frame. "And this is Loose Threads' pride and joy," he told Heero. "Dave won't even hang it on the wall, figuring someone will swipe it."  
  
Heero recognized this one. He'd seen it on a newsstand one cold, rainy day in Berlin. It was the Vanity Fair magazine cover featuring the Trowa, Quatre and Duo in the outfits they'd worn for the wedding. It was autographed by all three and Quatre had written, "Nice pants, huh? Thanks and best wishes to Dave and all the guys at Loose Threads."  
  
"We keep their sizes on file," Nicky rattled on. "You guys are all disgustingly fit, by the way. See those pants they're wearing? Hand-stitched Dolchis! I sold them those myself, custom ordered straight from Milano. We won't even show the catalogue to anyone who isn't totally built. But those two? Born for 'em. You, too. If you ever want some, just say the word. We're the only place north of New York who can get them, but it takes two months, minimum."  
  
The famous photographer had shot them against a stark white background, and covered the floor with billows of sheer white fabric strewn with red rose petals. Trowa sat in a fancy wooden armchair, a long-stemmed red rose clutched between his teeth and one arm around Quatre, perched on his knee. Trowa was glowering under his bangs, but Quatre was laughing with his head thrown slightly back, a red rose tucked behind one ear. They wore similar skin-tight black leather pants with silver and turquoise conchos down the outsides of the legs. Their feet were bare, revealing toenails painted the same dark red as the roses.  
  
Duo lay on his stomach at their feet, chin propped on one hand, holding a pink rose to his nose with the other as he pouted sexily out at the photographer. Duo wore only that black leather kilt and black combat boots. His feet were raised behind him, ankles crossed. His hair lay loose over his bare back and shoulders; one long chestnut strand of it curled around Trowa's ankle. Quatre had one bare feet planted squarely on Duo's backside.  
  
"It's a fantastic picture, don't you think?" Nicky gushed.  
  
"Hn." Heero had never liked it.  
  
"So, you're shopping for Mr. Gorgeous here?"  
  
"Correct."  
  
"Gonna surprise him, right? Hot night on the town?"  
  
Heero leveled a searing look at the clerk, who was proving far more perceptive than Heero had anticipated.  
  
But this Nicky person was proving as annoyingly immune to his dark looks as Duo. "Hey, it's my job to be nosy, so help me help you. What sort of club are you thinking of?"  
  
"Rock or techno."  
  
"Well, if you don't mind some advice from a local, stick to Barnacle Betty's, Red Sails, or Ma Rainey's, over on Prospect. Most of the waterfront places are tourist hell, or full of photographers. And don't go near Starz! They'll let anyone in. But the door keepers at those other places know their job and the music's good. Ma Rainey's is the hardest to get into, but they'd let hotties like you two in no problem, even if you showed up wearing garbage bags." He turned and studied the bulletin board, then pulled down a couple of snapshots. "Yeah, see? Your friends go there sometimes."  
  
Heero glanced at the photos. The backgrounds were too dark to make out the decor but most of the people weren't wearing particularly outlandish clothing. "Do they serve food?"  
  
"There's a great seafood place called Jack's across the street, but you'll need reservations on weekends." He jotted a phone number on the back of a store business card. "If you call between now and midnight most days, ask for John and drop my name. He'll get you in."  
  
"He knows you?"  
  
Nicky grinned. "He better. He's my boyfriend. So, let's start with you, shall we?" He stepped back and studied Heero from head to toe. "Hmm, that build, that hair--great jacket, by the way. Gift, or did you buy it?"  
  
"A gift--"  
  
"Right. The rest of it your choices?"  
  
"No, but--"  
  
"Well, don't worry. I'm good. So, I'll just go out on a limb here and guess that you'll want to keep it macho. No messing with the hair color? No kilts, no shorts, not too much glitter and flash? Dark colors?"  
  
Heero nodded, relieved. "Acceptable."  
  
"Great. Let's get started." Nicky went to a rack and pulled out a hanger. On it hung what appeared to be a body suit of some sort made of a few bits of black spandex linked together with large silver rings. Before Heero could object, the other man burst out laughing. "Sorry, couldn't resist. You should really loosen up. This is supposed to be fun!" He put the offensive outfit back. "How soon do you need the duds?"  
  
"Immediately."  
  
"No problem. It'll have to be off the rack, but you could make K-Mart look like Prada, and honey, we don't carry K-Mart! Everything we have is designer. Do you have any preference?"  
  
"The clothing must be suited to the environment you suggested, but also comfortable. Breathable fabrics, cut for optimum movement."  
  
Nicky arched an eyebrow, no doubt at his manner of speaking. Heero sighed. This was why he shopped on line. "And I wish to look--" Heero hesitated again. Why couldn't the man just leave him alone to make his own decisions?  
  
"Hot?" Nicky guessed. "Sexy?"  
  
"Romantic," Heero muttered between gritted teeth.  
  
"Oooo!" Nicky appeared torn between surprise and approval. "Lucky Mr. Gorgeous! Price range?"  
  
"It is of no importance."  
  
"You just said the magic words." He pulled three pairs of black pants off a nearby rack and handed them to Heero. "Try these."  
  
"Don't you need to know my size or take measurements?"  
  
Nicky looked insulted. "Dressing room's right back there. Let me see you in them and tell me what you think. And be honest!"  
  
Heero tried not to scowl too darkly as he took the pants into the small dressing room. There was no mirror in here, just a large three-way outside. The first pair was soft black leather, similar to the ones in the photograph, but with no silver trim. They hung low on Heero's hips and hugged his backside and legs, but didn't feel overly light. He tucked in his tee-shirt and stepped out to the mirror.  
  
"Well?" Nicky demanded.  
  
Heero stared at himself in the mirror. He would never have thought to try on pants like these, but he had to admit they looked good on him. "These fit."  
  
"Damn right they do! They're lambskin, like your jacket and they fit like your own skin. So that's a maybe? Don't get all shy and say no. Try the others, then we'll put some tops with them."  
  
The next pair were cut low like the others and looked like black suede, but were made of some fabric that hugged his body comfortably. "Very breathable," Heero noted, turning in front of the mirror. The legs were slightly flared for boot wear. He could wear an ankle holster under them, he thought, though he didn't share that with the clerk. "I like these, as well."  
  
The last pair, raw silk dress slacks, fit just as well, but Heero found himself frowning at his reflection.  
  
"Not you," Nicky pronounced.  
  
Heero nodded. No, they were not him.  
  
"OK, so want to work with the microsuede? Put them back on. I'll be right back. Hold on, look at me."  
  
To Heero's surprise, he obeyed, standing there passively while Nicky came close and scrutinized his face.  
  
"Don't suppose you'd consider make-up--?" Heero's glare was answer enough. "OK, OK, no make-up. Shame though, with those eyes?" Shaking his head, he disappeared into the racks.  
  
By the time Heero had gotten the micrcosuedes on, Nicky was back with a pile of shirts over his arm.  
  
The first one looked promising, a tight, sleeveless black tee shirt. But when Heero got it on, he discovered that it was cut short, leaving a good six inches of midriff bare above the already low rise of the jeans. Heero peeled it off and handed it back without comment.  
  
"At least I tried," Nicky said, handing him what appeared to be the identical shirt. This one was long enough to tuck in, but still very tight. "It's made of this new spandex and microfiber blend, designed to breath."  
  
Heero had been working out regularly and drinking the protein shakes Dr. Santos had prescribed, and his muscle tone had improved considerably, but he was still thin, shoulders bony, arms more wiry than muscular. The clingy fabric showed the contours of his ribs and still rather sunken belly. "I look like a heroin addict."  
  
"You say that like it's a bad thing!" Nicky chuckled. "Can't be too thin or too rich, right?"  
  
"I disagree."  
  
"Well, trust me, you look hot, but try this." He handed Heero a silky, long sleeved shirt. The fabric was slightly iridescent, and dyed in marbleized swirls of peacock blues and greens. He had Heero leave it unbuttoned, then expertly rolled the cuffs halfway up Heero's forearms. He turned Heero to the mirror and looked over his shoulder at the reflection. Heero had never worn anything this colorful in his life and had had his doubts when he saw it on the hanger, thinking maybe it would be better for Duo, but it actually looked very good on him.  
  
But Nicky was shaking his head. "Almost there. Take the shirts off."  
  
Heero pulled them off and Nicky handed him a black tank top made from the same fabric as the tees. Heero wasn't sure he really wanted to wear this style again, but Nicky had been right about everything else so far, so he pulled it on. This shirt clung to him, too, and revealed more of his chest, but with the other shirt on over it, he looked slim rather than thin, and taller. He stared at his reflection, then glanced at Nicky. "Well?"  
  
"You tell me."  
  
Heero regarded his reflection again, noting how the shirt picked up the color of his eyes. "Acceptable."  
  
"Acceptable?" Nicky rolled his eyes. "How do you _feel?"_  
  
How he felt wasn't really this stranger's business, but he was becoming aware of a weird intimacy in this process of clothes buying. Heero wondered if it was normal, or of there was something wrong with him. Being locked in a small space with a man who knew too much about him had initially set off the old alarms, but that had receded. Maybe this was normal.  
  
"How do I feel?" he muttered, studying his reflection. Not how did he look, but how did he feel. The clothes were snug, but everything hugged him in all the right places in a way that revealed the lines of his body without undue constriction. They were comfortable, without looking it. "Attractive?"  
  
Nicky walked off, returning a moment later with black western style boots and a wide, silver studded belt. Heero put them on and let him wind a long black braided thong capped with silver several times around his wrist in a simple bracelet. "Now, imagine your friend seeing you in this outfit."  
  
Caught thinking what other uses he could put that braided bracelet to, Heero was surprised to feel his nipples and balls tighten with arousal. It heightened the color in his cheeks, darkened the blue of his eyes, and made his cock stir with interest.  
  
Nicky chuckled. "That's right. You are drop dead sexy. You'll be lucky to get Mr. Gorgeous out of the house at all."  
  
Heero suspected the man might be correct.  
  
"You're perfect. You'll take it."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Great. Now for your friend. How do you want him to look? What do you like him in?"  
  
"Anything." Or nothing, he thought. Still looking in the mirror, he-- was surprised at the almost predatory look that came over him. He blinked it away. That's not how he wanted to look at Duo, not this time. He shrugged. "He's beautiful in anything."  
  
"God, why don't they clone guys like you! Come on, then, let's cruise the racks. I've got a few ideas."  
  
"He appreciates fine things," Heero told him, trailing behind him. "Do you know what designers he likes?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
Using some photos of Duo, the information on file, and a bit of modeling by Nicky, Heero picked out a pair of Italian charcoal silk jeans cut low on the hips, a snug midriff-bearing microfiber sleeveless tee in a light teal green, a belt similar to the one Heero was wearing, but decorated with small silver medallions, and a lightweight biker-style black leather jacket that had been finished with something Nicky called a silver wash that gave it an interesting sheen as it moved. It was very soft, like glove leather. Soft black Italian leather boots with silver chains across the instep were a must, according to Nicky.  
  
The bracelets the man wore kept catching Heero's eye. At first he'd thought them foolish, but now he found himself imagining Duo's slim wrists decked out in silver and braided leather, arms bared by that ocean-colored shirt.  
  
He selected a mix of bracelets like them from a rack on the counter, and was pleased to find several with seashells braided into them. Money cowries, Nicky informed him. Another had a silver moon snail shell in the middle.  
  
"How about this?" Nicky took a short necklace from another rack and laid it beside the bracelets. It was very simple, a single round disk of some natural material a little over an inch in diameter set in a simple silver bezel and hung on a thin black leather thong. The disk looked like cream colored ivory, with a swirl of buff and brown that curved from the edge to the center. "It's an operculum, the trapdoor from some big sea snail. Also called a Shiva's Eye."  
  
"Shiva."  
  
"It comes with this." Nicky handed him a small printed card.  
  
Heero read the information and smiled. "Can you gift wrap this and the clothes for him?"  
  
"Don't you want to know the total?"  
  
Heero took out his credit card and slid it across the counter. "Gift wrap. Plain shopping bags."  
  
Nicky swiped the card and glanced up at Heero as the $1,842.75 total was accepted. When Heero didn't flinch, he grinned. "Any more like you at home?"  
  
+  
  
Heero hid the shopping bags under a blanket in the back of the SUV, then called the restaurant on his cell phone. Nicky's name was invoked and John the Maitre'd promised him a very nice table for two at eight o'clock the following evening. He made two more stops, then headed back through the fading sunset feeling tired but very satisfied with the day's mission. By the time he turned off on the beach road, stars were coming out in the eastern sky. When he crested the dunes and the house came into sight, he pulled over for moment and sat staring at it, a strange tightness in his throat.  
  
The upper floors were dark, but warm yellow light spilled from the living room windows and the porch light was on. Down on the beach, a small driftwood fire cast a red glow across the sand. Somewhere nearby, maybe there in the shadows beyond the fire, gun probably in hand, his lover waited for him.  
  
Was this what "home" felt like?  
  
He saw no sign of Duo as he parked in the driveway and headed down to the fire, hands behind his back. "02?"  
  
He heard the distinctive click of the Sig Saur's safety. "All clear here, 01. Where the heck you been all day?" Duo stepped into the circle of firelight, slipping the pistol into the pocket of the oversized Alliance surplus parka he was wearing. He had on old bleach stained jeans and a faded concert tee-shirt underneath it. He must have started the painting stage with the masks; there were streaks of blue and green paint on his hands and one long one down the side of his nose.  
  
"Where did the clothes come from?" Heero asked.  
  
"Kat and Trowa shipped some down. Hey, I missed you today! Where ya been? Whatcha got behind your back?"  
  
Feeling only slightly less silly than he had this morning with the note and flowers, he held out the dozen red roses and small gold box of Sanque chocolates he'd picked up in town. He was nervous enough about such gestures, and the feeling worsened when Duo took a step back and eyed him warily.  
  
"What's going on?" he demanded.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"The note, with those little kissy signs? Wildflowers with my morning coffee? Now more flowers and candy. Jesus, Heero, ya got bad news, right? You're still sick. Did Santos contact you?"  
  
"No, I'm fine!" He wanted to hug him but Duo still hadn't taken the gifts and Heero didn't really want to drop them in the sand.  
  
"Then what?" Duo looked seriously concerned now, then his eyes narrowed. "Did ya do something I'm going to be mad about? What? Seriously, Heero, this morning was kinda sweet, but now you're scaring me!"  
  
Heero was baffled. None of his research had led him to believe that this reaction was a possible outcome of such gestures. Only then did it occur to him that maybe Duo didn't know any more, if as much, about romance, than Heero did himself. "Flowers and chocolates are a tradition offering to one's object of affection," he explained. "To one's lover, that is. Red roses signify deep love, and passion."  
  
Duo was still staring at him like he'd grown an extra head, but he edged a little closer and Heero saw the corner of his mouth twitch dangerously. "And the chocolates, what do they mean?"  
  
"They're Sanque chocolates. With liqueur centers."  
  
The twitch gave way to a grin. "Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Yuy?"  
  
"That would seem unnecessary, given our history. I am trying to date you."  
  
The grin widened. Maybe it was just the firelight putting that dangerous gleam in Duo's eyes now, but Heero doubted it. "Date? Me?"  
  
"Yes. I never had the chance before, with you or anyone else."  
  
"There was someone else you wanted to date, Heero?"  
  
Heero knew he was teasing and refused to take the bait. "Will you go out with me tomorrow night? I have reservations."  
  
"So do I, but seeing as how you brought me flowers and all---" Duo was trying to keep a straight face. All the same, he sidled over, accepted the gifts, then wrapped himself around Heero, flowers and all, and kissed him. "Yeah, OK, I guess I could let you take me out. This is an actual date? For real?"  
  
"Yes, for real."  
  
"Where we going?"  
  
"It's a surprise."  
  
"How will I know what to wear?"  
  
"Taken care of."  
  
"Really?" He shook his head. "So, it took you all day long to find some flowers and some chocolates. Where'd you go? Boston?"  
  
Heero gave Duo his best Perfect Soldier stonewall stare, revealing nothing.  
  
"Riiiight. I see. OK, keep your secrets. But I warn you, I have ways of making you talk."  
  
"I'm conditioned to resist torture," Heero reminded him, starting up the beach toward the house.  
  
"Who said anything about torture?" Duo bounded after him and captured Heero's hand in his. "Man, I missed you! Did I say that already? You know that's the first time we've been apart in days and days? It was so quiet here, and I wasn't really worried, of course, but I kept thinking you'd be back any moment, or call, but you didn't--"  
  
"You could have called me. I told you I had my phone."  
  
"Yeah, I know, but I didn't really have anything to say except that it was too weird here without you and that sounded pretty lame--"  
  
Heero pulled him close and cut him off with a kiss. Duo's heart was racing; Heero could feel it through his jacket. Had Duo been scared to be alone?  
  
But when Duo pulled back he was smiling. "Yeah, yeah. Can't live without you and all that. You hungry? It's such a great night, I thought maybe we'd just do hotdogs and marshmallows over the fire out here under the stars. That OK with you? I got everything ready in the kitchen, on a tray."  
  
"Sounds great."  
  
Duo held the roses to his face and inhaled as they continued on. When he spoke again, he sounded almost shy. "These are really nice, Heero. Thanks!" He tucked the candy box under his arm and found Heero's hand again, bringing it to his lips. Heero did the same, savoring the mingled scents of roses and gun oil on Duo's skin as he kissed the backs of his fingers.  
  
+  
  
They roasted hot dogs and talked about the masks Duo had started on that day, the ones for Trowa and Quatre's duel act. Then they lay on a blanket and watched the stars for a while, until it got cold and the fire died.  
  
"Bed time?" Heero suggested, pleasantly tired and relaxed.  
  
"Give me five." With that, Duo jumped up and loped back to the house.  
  
When Heero followed a few minutes later, he heard water running upstairs. He checked the security settings, turned off the downstairs lights, and climbed the stairs to find the only illumination was candlelight coming from the open doorway of their bedroom. Following the glow he found candles burning on the mantelpiece, and the bed strewn with dozens and dozens of wild pink beach roses like the ones he'd left for Duo that morning. The box of chocolates sat open in the middle of the bed.  
  
More wild roses floated in the tub, where Duo was already naked and waiting for him, braid pinned up with pencils and paintbrushes this time. "See?" he said, grinning at Heero over the edge of the tub, a red rose tucked behind one ear. "You're not the only romantic around here. So what do pink ones mean?"  
  
"Pink? Perfect happiness."  
  
Duo slid down in the tub, looking pleased.  
  
Heero grinned happily as he shucked out of his clothes and joined him. Duo recognized romance after all. He'd obviously planned this welcome while Heero was gone, and he'd just applied that term to both of them. Definitely a good sign that the mission was on the right track.  
  
The bath was a relaxed affair. There was no need to hurry, no danger or pressing concern. It was pleasant to just lay there in each other's arms, enjoying the warmth after the brisk night breeze. When the water began to cool they dried each other and climbed into bed to share the chocolates in whatever fashion took their fancy. Heero took Duo's hair down and loosed it from the braid, combing it out with his fingers and arranging it over those smooth, pale shoulders and chest. Only then did he reach under the pillow for the slim, gift wrapped box. "I got you something else."  
  
Duo took it, but just sat staring at it. "More? C'mon, Heero! What's the occasion?"  
  
"Happy birthday."  
  
"I don't have a birthday."  
  
"Everyone has a birthday. You and I just don't know when ours are. It could be today. And if it isn't, then Merry Christmas and Happy Founder's Day and Planetary New Year and any other holiday when no one gave Duo Maxwell a present. That stops today. And don't say 'but I didn't get you anything', either. You gave me that jacket."  
  
Duo swallowed hard and kissed him again. "You're turning out to be one helluva boyfriend, Heero Yuy." He opened the box and lifted the necklace out. "Wow, that's nice! What is it?"  
  
Heero grinned and handed him the little card Nicky had included with the necklace. "Mermaid jewelry. Read."  
  
"Again with the mermaids!" Duo laughed. "OK, I'll bite. 'This necklace is made with an operculum, the trapdoor of a marine snail. It is also known among the ancients as the Eye of Shiva, for the Hindu god. Shiva, best known as the god of--" Duo paused and shot Heero a questioning look. "'-a-s the god of destruction, also represents the most essential goodness. Shiva is the god of the yogis, self-controlled and celibate-' Uh, Heero?"  
  
"Keep reading."  
  
"'-- while at the same time a lover of his spouse, Shakti.''OK, that's more like it. 'Shiva's main attributes are the trident that represents the three gunas and the snakes that show he is beyond the power of death and poison and also stand for the magical sexual power of Kundalini energy.' I like that last bit!"  
  
"I thought Shiva sounded a lot like my Shinigami."  
  
Duo was grinning again as Heero helped him fasten the small silver clasp around his neck. "Does that make you my Shakti?"  
  
"Only if Shakti was a man. I'm not sure what Kundalini is, exactly."  
  
Duo pressed him back on the bed and placed one of the Sanque chocolates on Heero's right nipple, the way they had in Madrid. "I think it's in the filling of these. Wanna explore that?"  
  
Heero did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Some nice examples of the style of mask making Duo is doing can be seen at: www.themaskstore.com/leather.htm
> 
> For those of you who don't know the reference, the 20th century circus Trowa is inspired by is happily very real, and I have no doubt they will have this sort of influence in the future! See: www.cirquedusoleil.com
> 
> If you can't get to one of their many international shows, the DVDs are the next best thing but live? Wow! Go if you can! (Fans of CdS may already have guessed what Trowa's secret act is based on, but keep it under your hats for now, OK? *wink* )
> 
> If you're wondering what a Shiva's Eye/operculum actually looks like, here are some nice examples: www.thefamilyjewels.com.au/prod242.htm, www.cyanrift.com/snaildoor_br.htm


	28. In the Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Their current assignments as Milliardo Peacecraft's personal bodyguards were officially listed as honor details, but Wufei wondered whom he and Sally had pissed off to get stuck with it.  
  
They'd left for Earth the next day and Peacecraft was quietly settled in a large country house a few miles outside the Sanque capital. It stood on a high, green cliff overlooking the sea, surrounded by elaborate gardens and high walls. There was a swimming pool, and a riding stable, shooting ranges, even a small movie theater. A very elegant and well-appointed prison, it seemed to Wufei, noting the number of discreetly casual security personnel inside and outside the gates. Or perhaps a well disguised insane asylum?  
  
Relena had been there to welcome her brother home, but Peacecraft seemed uncomfortable in her presence. He was quiet, and what little he said was either a clipped command or some vague, sardonic observation that did not always make sense to anyone else. She left the following day.   
  
As Wufei escorted her to her shuttle, she clasped his arm, eyes filling with unshead tears. "Please look after my brother and be patient with him. He's not himself yet.  
  
Wufei suspected it was more a matter of the ex-warrior and former White Fang traitor not being who she wanted him to be. He doubted Peacecraft ever would be, but Relena Peacecraft Darlian was a kind woman, and one with a demonstrated ability to convince herself of anyone's higher nature, no matter how slight the evidence.  
  
Physically, Peacecraft had made a remarkable recovery from his injuries, though it was clear he was not the man he once was. His throat had been damaged in the explosion on Libra, and he could not speak much above a husky whisper. If one looked closely, you could tell where large expanses of skin had been regenerated, and that the left ear did not exactly match the right one. And the pale, once-famous hair, which barely brushed his collar now, was a bit finer on that side of his head. But he moved almost normally, and despite refusing a prosthetic replacement for the missing left arm, he worked out daily. Not strong enough to pilot a mobile suit anymore, perhaps, but then there were no suits left for him to fly. As a condition of his parole after the Libra incident, Relena had agreed in his name that Milliardo Peacecraft, a.k.a the Lightning Count, would never fight again.  
  
Knowing what the man had been, Wufei wondered how often Milliardo Peacecraft thought of suicide.   
  
Despite his initial greeting that day on L-4, Peacecraft gave no sign of knowing whom Wufei or Sally were, beyond their functions as his bodyguards. Sally remained uncertain as to whether he was entirely sane. He went through the motions well enough, rising early to swim and lift weights, dining at regular hours, reading in the library or going out riding. The house stables were stocked with the finest horses Wufei had ever seen, tall thoroughbreds and graceful Arabians. This part of the job, at least, was bearable. Sally was allergic to horses, so Wufei took those hours, leaving her to sit through the long, silent meals.  
  
They also alternated evenings, giving each other some much needed down time. Wufei was on duty one evening, reading quietly in the library, when Peacecraft addressed him directly for the first time in nearly a day. "Do you play chess?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Peacecraft rose and laid his book aside, obviously expecting Wufei to join him at the chessboard by the fire. Wufei had little choice but to comply. He drew the white pawn and made his opening move, glad to have something to do.   
  
They played the first game in silence, and Peacecraft won. Sane or not, he played brilliantly, as daring and aggressive here as he had been on the battlefield. Wufei had seen him fight Yuy in that last battle, and heard stories from Barton about their earlier duels. This was the man who'd mastered the Tall Geese, he reminded himself, and Epyon, too.  
  
They played another, and Wufei put up a better fight before losing again. He was setting the pieces up for a third match when he realized that Peacecraft was looking at him, really looking at him, for the first time since they'd met.  
  
"Treize Kushreneda was my friend, you know."  
  
Wufei froze, hand poised above the white king. Had this assignment all been some clever ploy for Peacecraft to exact revenge? They were alone here, and though he knew the other man was unarmed, and probably no match for him in hand-to-hand combat in his current state, he was much taller, and an honored nobleman. If he attacked, the best Wufei could hope for was to keep him from hurting either one of them too badly.  
  
But no attack came. Wufei sat back slowly and met the man's gaze levelly. "Yes, I know."  
  
Those blue eyes were clear and lucid now, or seemed to be. Peacecraft sat back in his tufted armchair, regarding him with that same slightly amused air. He wore a long silk dressing gown over his trousers, the front open to show an expanse of pale, too-smooth skin. He looked regal, like the king he should have been.  
  
"You think I'm angry at you, Chang Wufei?" He smiled, but those eyes were cold. "I am a little, but not for the reason you probably assume."  
  
"Perhaps you should not assume anything of me," Wufei shot back.   
  
"Ah yes. That's right. You pride yourself on that forthright manner, don't you? Then I will be equally straightforward with you. For most of my life I worshipped Treize. He was my greatest friend, and my most demanding teacher. To me, he represented everything that a warrior should be. Even at the end of his life, I believe I understood his motivation."  
  
Shocked as he was at such a confession from a stranger, Wufei was even more shocked to hear himself blurt out, "I felt the same."  
  
"Did you, little Chang?" This seemed to amuse Peacecraft.  
  
Wufei scowled, trying to reclaim his dignity. "I fought many battles, against many pilots. Only two were better than I. He was one of them, until the end."  
  
"The end, yes. I'm told you were heard weeping after you killed him."  
  
Wufei blanched. It was true, but how did this man know that? "As I said, I admired him greatly. He bested me once in a duel with swords, and spared me when he should have taken my life. I had looked to him to give me a warrior's death."  
  
"And instead, you did him that honor."  
  
"No! It wasn't supposed to happen that way. He must have been wounded--"  
  
"He asked that of me first, you know, to fight with him to the death. He wanted to settle the war with a duel. A romantic to the end, Treize was. I suppose I should be thanking you, for giving him what I could not."  
  
"Why didn't you?" Wufei asked softly.  
  
Peacecraft closed his eyes, and for an instant Wufei saw real pain in that pale, handsome face. "I don't know. It wasn't cowardice, but something worse perhaps. I was angry with him at the end, for not being the man I wanted him to be." He stood abruptly and straightened his robe. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to discomfort you, only to make it clear that I have neither the desire nor the right to seek revenge against you for my friend's death. I am, in my own flawed way, still striving to be a man of honor. Good night, Chang Wufei, Gundam Pilot 05."   
  
He walked to the door leading to his bedchamber, then paused and turned back. "You said there were two pilots whom you acknowledged as being better than you. Since you and I never completed a conclusive duel, I assume the other was the boy who calls himself Heero Yuy?"  
  
Wufei nodded.   
  
The cool sardonic expression fell back into place. "He and I fought several times. It always ended in a draw or an interruption. That's one of my few regrets, that we never settled who was the better warrior. Then again, I suppose that means I was still better than you, and by default, better than Treize at the end. Why do I take no satisfaction in that, eh? Pleasant dreams, Chang."   
  
Wufei sat in stunned silence for moment after the door of Peacecraft's room closed, and then strode angrily to his room.  
  
He didn't need this shit assignment.  
  
As he changed for bed, he noticed an email prompt flashing on the screen of his laptop, open on his desk. He opened his mail folder, expecting some thing from Preventer headquarters, but instead recognized Quatre Winner's address from the secure mail server Heero had set up for the five of them two years ago. It was almost never used, except for emergencies involving Maxwell, or cheery newsletters from Winner, who insisted on keeping in contact every few months. He was in no mood for either sort, but checked anyway. The last thing he'd gotten from any of them had been the news of Heero's return.   
  
He sighed and opened the email.  
  
_To: Shenlong@privatesky.net_  
 _From: Sandrock@privatesky.net_  
 _12 September 198_  
 _010:05 pm ST_  
  
_Dear Wufei:_  
  
_Just wanted to remind you about the New Orleans show starting Oct. 30th. I know you're probably still getting settled there in Sanque but do you think you might be able to get the time off? I can guarantee you the best seat in the house, and Tro's renting a house in the French Quarter for a month. You're welcome to stay with us as long as you like. We'd really like to see you again, and for something fun, instead of the usual emergency. Duo and Heero will be with us, too, but I promise you a quiet room this time! Sorry about all that before. Totally our fault._  
  
_Things were relatively calm in Madrid after you left. Heero and Duo are doing well together and are off for some time alone, location on a need to know basis. You can reach them via the usual email addresses. Heero's is the same as it was. I know you're uncomfortable about certain things, but I hope you can come to accept it. I know it would mean a lot to both of them, especially Heero. You know how much he respects you, right?_  
  
_Anyway, it was great seeing you and everyone really appreciates all you did. I was glad to learn that Meir decided not to press charges._  
  
_Please say you'll come to New Orleans? The shows are going to be really amazing._  
  
_RSVP_  
  
_Best regards,_  
  
_Quatre_  
  
Wufei sighed and started to delete the message, then changed his mind. He could at least do Winner the courtesy of a reply, perhaps even make an attempt at a bit of news. He owed him that much, he supposed.   
  
But right now he was too tired and too rattled by Peacecraft's snide parting shot to make nice about turning down the invitation, or about-- that other business. The very mention of Yuy and Maxwell brought up certain mental images he had no wish to revisit, now or ever.  
  
He saved the message for later, then reached under his bed for the locked strongbox and the instant respite it held.


	29. Love and Baseball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo immediately recognized that shiny black and gold gift-wrapping on the packages Heero presented him with late the following afternoon. There were five of them, an armload. No one had ever given Duo so many gifts at the same time. Sitting speechless on their bed, he looked from the expensive wrapping to the shy, hopeful, doubtful look in Heero's eyes and wanted to cry. But he wouldn't do that to the guy, because Heero probably wouldn't understand.   
  
It had been a weird day. Heero had refused to tell him anything, except that they were heading out to dinner at seven thirty. Then he proceeded to look unbelievably happy and pleased with himself all day as they worked out and cleaned the living room and played cards over lunch and worked in the studio. Finally, at five, Heero sent him off to the shower alone. When Duo came out, the boxes were waiting for him on the bed.  
  
"So this is what you were up to."  
  
Heero shrugged, grinning. Duo opened the gifts, one by one. A Dolchi leather jacket. Ibieza rubbed silk jeans and a Dolchi belt. Sartori boots. The teal muscle shirt was French. Opening the last, smallest box he let out a shaky laugh. A dozen or more bracelets spilled out, a jumble of leather and silver and seashells. He touched the Shiva's Eye necklace he'd taken off only long enough to shower. More mermaid jewelry.   
  
The necklace, roses and chocolates last night had been enough, more than enough. This was beyond belief. He knew how much this stuff cost! He knew how many months of his pension it would take to even begin to buy an outfit like this. Part of him wanted to throw every bit of it back into those shiny expensive boxes and make Heero take it all back. But that look on Heero's face wouldn't let him do that.   
  
"Loose Threads, huh?"  
  
Heero was clearly proud of himself. "Nicky said to tell you 'hello', 'welcome back' and 'you are one lucky guy.' He was very helpful."  
  
"I'll bet." Note to self, thought Duo: kick the living shit out Nicky the next time he saw the rat bastard. Not in these boots, of course. "Did-- How did-- That is, did Kat send you to that store or something?"  
  
Heero's grin widened. "No. I just did some research and looked around in New Provincetown yesterday." The grin faltered. "I thought--That is, you're on file there, and your picture is on the board and Nicky really seemed to like all of you . . ."  
  
"You just stumbled in there? It's not exactly an easy place to find." At least he wouldn't have to beat up any friends over this. That was a relief.  
  
"You don't like the outfit."  
  
Duo gave him a kiss. "I love the outfit, babe. I really do! I just, y'know, didn't expect anything like this. You don't have to buy your date's outfit, you know." Outfit? Shit, this was a fucking dowry!  
  
Heero shrugged. "You didn't bring much with you from Madrid, and I didn't have anything that was right for the occasion. I wanted to surprise you--"  
  
"Mission accomplished."  
  
"And this seemed an appropriate solution."  
  
"A very expensive one."  
  
"Duo! Even _I_ know it's not polite to question how much was paid for a gift."  
  
"Sorry. You just really surprised me, that's all. I hope you got yourself something nice."  
  
Heero got that happy secretive look again. "Dry your hair and get dressed. I'll meet you downstairs."  
  
He left Duo there with the clothes and torn wrapping paper. A moment later Duo heard the downstairs shower.   
  
Duo took his time in the bathroom, trying to figure out how he felt about this. The worst part was, he did love the outfit. It was amazing. But all the Threads sales boys were good at their job. Quatre had taken him there a couple of times even before the wedding planning, and even bought Duo a few nice things as gifts, not taking no for an answer any more than Heero would have. But mostly Duo had bought only what he could afford himself, which was damn little in a place like that.   
  
He went back to the bed and lifted the jacket. Soft as a girl's face, just like the ads said. He put on the rest of the outfit except for that, slipped on the boots and the bracelets, adjusted the necklace in the low-scooped neck of the shirt. Then he turned to the long bedroom mirror and his jaw dropped. It could have been custom made just for him. And damn, but he looked good!  
  
But some part of him was still going Shinigami about charity and being a kept man and why the fuck had he let Heero loose to be taken advantage of. It was that damn embassy room, and that fucking private jet. Heero was right; Duo did love luxury, but those situations had been temporary and hadn't cost either of them a cent. This was different. This was a matter of pride, of being self reliant, but dammit, he still couldn't shake off the sight of that happy look in Heero's eyes.   
  
He let out a low growl of frustration, found his cell phone, and dialed Trowa's number. It was still early there, but Trowa answered on the second ring. "Duo."  
  
"Hey, Tro! Long time no see, huh. How ya doin'?"  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Duo blinked and squirmed a little on the bed. "Nothing. I just had a question. A sorta relationship thing."  
  
"Would you like me to get Quatre?"  
  
"No, I need your input on this."  
  
"OK. Shoot."  
  
"Heero's taking me on a date." He heard a stifled noise that could have been either surprise or amusement. Maybe both. He was just glad he wasn't on vid phone. "Yeah, a date. Wipe that smirk off your face, Tro. I can hear it. This is serious! He got this idea in his head we needed to go on an actual date and in typical Perfect Soldier fashion, he prepped very thoroughly for the mission. He found his way into Loose Threads and now I'm sitting here in about a grand's worth of designer clothes."  
  
"How'd he do?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"How do you look?"  
  
"Fucking stunning, but that's not the issue!"  
  
"Ah, the money thing."  
  
"Yeah." Duo relaxed a little, hearing understanding in his friend's voice. "How did you handle that, before you started making your own money?"  
  
"I'll never make enough to compete with Quatre's fortune," Trowa reminded him.  
  
"Oh yeah. So, is it a problem?"  
  
"Only if one of you makes an issue of it. Knowing Heero, he just did it because he's being logical again, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess. And--"   
  
Trowa waited.  
  
"Jeeze, Tro. You should have seen his face! He looked like a little kid getting a new bike, only I was the one doing the getting."  
  
Trowa chuckled. "Yeah, Quatre does that, too."  
  
"Did it make you crazy?"  
  
"At first, yeah, sometimes. Until I'd hurt his feeling a few times too many, and finally figured out that he wasn't trying to buy me."  
  
"I already figured that part out. It wouldn't occur to him."   
  
"Then quit worrying about how to keep things even, or paying him back."  
  
"That's real easy to say. But you saw his bank account."  
  
"It's not all about price tags, Duo. Did you ever stop to think maybe he's trying to pay _you_ back?"  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Duo?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're an idiot. Tell him thank you, have a wonderful time tonight, and rub his feet when you get home. And pictures! We want pictures."  
  
"You are such a hard ass."  
  
Trowa chuckled. "That's why everyone loves me. So, aside from being showered with expensive gifts, how are things going?"  
  
Duo fought back a goofy grin. "Good. Real good, but a little weird around the edges."  
  
"Weird how?" Trowa must have misunderstood what he meant, because just like that, he sounded ready to fly down and slap his boyfriend around for some imagined misbehavior.  
  
"No, nothing bad! He-uh, he-- picked flowers for me yesterday morning."  
  
That got an outright laugh, and he heard Trowa relaying this info over his shoulder to Quatre. He heard Kat laugh, too, and say something Duo didn't quite catch.   
  
There was a rustle on the other end of the line as Quatre claimed the phone. "Duo?"  
  
"Hey, Q-man!"  
  
"We miss you!"  
  
"I miss you guys, too!" He really did, too, he realized, and in a way that had nothing to do with being with Heero.   
  
"He really picked flowers for you?" Duo didn't need to see his friend's face to picture the delighted, incredulous grin that went with that. "Heero? _Our_ Heero?"  
  
Duo sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Yup. Left 'em with my morning coffee. And he brought me a dozen red roses last night. And jewelry. Flowers and jewelry, Kat! Think I should call Batoosingh? Jesus!"  
  
"Be gentle with him, Maxwell, or I'll kick your ass. And not in a way you'll like, either." He didn't sound like he was kidding. "Go have your date and quit looking for the dark side. See you in a couple--" Trowa said something in the background. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. There's some mail here for you, and a package from the Sanque embassy addressed to Heero."  
  
"From Relena?"  
  
"Can't tell. I'll send it all down, in case there's anything important. Some of it looks to be fan mail."  
  
Duo groaned. They all got it, letters from total strangers who thought they were wonderful or that they were in love with them, mixed in with the occasional "You killed my brother/father/son/daughter/mother/dog/fill-in-victim-of-choice-here in the war, you bastard" hate mail. Probably Heero would now, too. Duo remembered how he'd grumbled about it when he was working in Sanque. "Oh, and Mikos has called three times. Twice since that new picture of Heero kissing you in Madrid came out."   
  
"And you told him my answer is still no, right?"  
  
A meaningful pause followed. "Well . . ."  
  
"Quatre?"  
  
"I sort of told him you'd get back to him. 'Cause I really think you should at least consider--"  
  
"No."  
  
"But you'd be so--"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Trowa's thinking about it."  
  
"Good for Trowa. Bye bye, Q-ball."  
  
A sigh. "Bye bye, baka. Have a good time tonight. And be nice!"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Love ya, Duo, bye!"  
  
Duo stared at the phone for a minute. What the hell did they think he was going to do, kick Heero in the shins?   
  
"Well, buddy," he told his reflection. "If you're going to do this, you better do it right."  
  
Stripping off the new clothes, he went into the bathroom and removed the chipped toenail polish from Madrid, then put on two fresh coats. While it dried he used the eyeliner Heero had liked so much, but went light this time, to accentuate without looking slutty. It had been kinda funny when Relena had called him that, but he didn't want to show up in the pages of Vargas or Vanity Fair looking like Heero Yuy's kept whore.  
  
When his nails were dry, he got dressed except for the jacket, then undid the fresh braid and shook out his hair. It was still a little damp and the braiding had accentuated the natural wave. It fell in a shining, sandalwood scented cascade over his shoulders. He'd finally talked Heero into letting him trim the ragged ends and it looked good. _He_ looked good, he had to admit, better than he had in forever. He looked healthy and rested and well fed. Well fucked, too. He shook his wrists, settling the bracelets, and took a deep breath.   
  
Showtime.  
  
Heero was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, leather jacket slung over one shoulder. At least he thought it was Heero. Stunned, he stopped halfway down, and saw his own grin of amazement mirrored on Heero's face. The guy looked like a freaking fashion model! Duo's mouth actually watered at the sight of that studded black belt slung low on Heero's slim hips under the brilliant greens and blues of the heavy washed silk shirt. The black western boots had a heel and between that and the all-black shirt and jeans, Heero looked about seven feet tall. And those eyes! Was he wearing make up or contacts or something?  
  
"Damn, Heero!" he said, knees a little weak as he walked around Heero, eyeballing this amazing vision. No make up. No contacts. Just 100% pure Heero Yuy in designer casual. "Ya got it all backwards. _This_ is my present, seeing you like this! What I got on must be for you."   
  
"Affirmative." Heero caught Duo by the belt buckle and pulled him close, then ran his fingers through Duo's hair, over the shimmery soft leather jacket, down to Duo's bare waist underneath. "I told Nicky you look beau--handsome in anything. I was right."  
  
"Back atcha, buddy!" He slid his hands under the silk shirt, marveling at the play of color against Heero's pale golden skin. "You make those clothes look good!"   
  
Maybe he should tell Heero about Mikos? Yeah, right. His hands slid lower, loving the feeling of Heero's perfect ass though the snug microsuede. They were both hard now, their erections brushing, silk to suede with a delicious friction. "I don't know what you've got planned, baby, but uh--that is, if time isn't off the absolute essence--"  
  
Heero smirked and rolled his pelvis against Duo's, making him catch his breath and close his eyes. A kiss on the nose made him open them again, and he was lost in amused blue as Heero stroked his hard on through his jeans. "Later, baby. Let's get going."  
  
"Baby? I thought I was your mermaid?"  
  
Heero chuckled and kissed the pendant lying against Duo's throat. "Come on, then, my mermaid."  
  
"Uh, Heero? There's just one little problem." Duo lifted his jacket and turned around, showing off his bare mid section. "I got no place for my gun or knives."  
  
"Do you trust me?"   
  
"You know I do," Duo replied, and meant it.  
  
Heero showed him the Glock tucked into the top of one boot. "I doubt we'll need it, but if so, I'll take care of any gunplay. Acceptable?"  
  
Duo felt a twinge of misgiving, but nodded. Time to start at least trying to live like normal people, right?  
  
Heero draped Duo's gray overcoat over his shoulders, opened the car door for him, found a soft jazz station on the car radio, and did the driving into town. With Quatre's warning echoing in his ears, Duo bit his tongue, refused to either laugh or feel insulted, and tried to relax and enjoy this strange new experience.  
  
Not that he hadn't had anyone romance him before, but they were all trying to get into his pants. Treatment like this set off alarm bells; treatment like this meant someone was going to expect someone like the guy Duo Maxwell had been to put out. Then again, more often than not he'd been the one doing the seducing. Staring out at the moon rising over the bay, he decided he had some bad habits to unlearn.   
  
Heero started their magical mystery tour at Jack's, a pleasantly casual restaurant with incredible seafood. The maitre'd quietly fussed over them, and didn't raise an eyebrow when Heero turned down the wine list and ordered a couple of non-alcohol beers. They ate by candlelight, and Duo found himself trading uncommonly shy glances with Heero over their crab cakes and scampi.  
  
"So, what's up?" Duo asked at last.   
  
Doubt flickered in Heero's eyes again. "Am I not doing it right?"  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"Being your date?"  
  
Duo reached for his hand and held it, trying not to smile. "I don't have much experience myself with this kind of thing. Real dating, I mean."  
  
Heero looked puzzled at that. "But I have seen pictures--"  
  
"That was different." As in he was either out with Tro and Kat, and wasn't planning on getting laid, or on the kind of "date" in which if you took the time to get a meal first, someone would have had his foot in the other guy's crotch under the table by now. He laid his fork aside and propped his chin in his hands. "So, tell me. What brought all this on?"  
  
Heero sat back, looking totally adorably uncertain of himself in the candlelight. "I--I want you to know that I love you for more than just sex."  
  
Duo's jaw would have dropped if it hadn't been firmly resting on his hands. "I never thought you did--want me for just sex, I mean. No one ever made me feel so-" He searched for the right word. "Special. And loved."  
  
"And safe?" Heero asked.  
  
"Yes, very safe. I mean, ya know I can usually take care of myself-when I'm not around the bend, anyway, right?"  
  
"Absolutely. It's one of the things I always liked about you."  
  
"Yeah, but even then, back in my Shinigami days, I liked having you around. Even if I didn't need back up or help. Or saving, like that day in Finland, or when OZ had me."  
  
"I was meant to kill you that time."   
  
"I know. I was glad it was going to be you." There were maybe three or four other people alive who could overhear this conversation and get that it was romantic repartee. "Even that time, or all those times when you were treating me like a pain in the ass, I felt safe with you, more than with anyone else I've ever known. I used to piss you off on purpose, just to get your attention, back in the day."  
  
"Is that what that was?" But Heero was smiling as he fidgeted with his salad fork.   
  
"Yeah. You always had the weirdest effect on me."  
  
Heero laughed outright at that, a quiet sound that was as much a brief shake of the shoulders as anything else. Their fellow diners were probably wondering why the dark-haired hunk had been scowling at his date all night. They probably thought they were having a fight. But Duo knew different. He could read Heero perfectly and knew this was the equivalent of him up dancing on top of the table.   
  
"Man, you really do love me, don't you?" Duo asked softly, clasping Heero's hand again.  
  
Heero laced his fingers through Duo's. "Of course I do. And you love me."  
  
"Affirmative." Marry me, Duo thought, but it came out, "You look incredibly handsome, by the way. Hey, you wanna hear something funny? There's this designer named Mikos Villerakos-he designed that shirt you've got on, actually-- who's been calling me, wanting me to be in some print ads."  
  
Heero didn't laugh. He seemed to take it quite seriously, in fact. "As a model? When will this happen?"   
  
Duo snorted. "C'mon! Me?"  
  
"But you're beautiful! Much better-looking than those emaciated, sulking people I see in most ads."  
  
Duo chuckled. "Thanks. But--I dunno. It would just feel too-I dunno. I get enough people staring at me as it is, and the news people always play up the whole ex-soldier thing. The Vanity Fair writer did, even with me lying there on the cover in a skirt, looking like--Well, you saw, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You didn't like it either, huh."  
  
"You didn't?" Heero was surprised.  
  
"It was fun at the time. They had music going and everyone was making a big deal over us. I was a little high, too, if you want to know the truth. And the other guys were really into it. I mean, it seemed like a good idea, clowning around and all. That photographer must have shot ten or fifteen rolls, all kinds of poses, but that's the one they went with. When it came out two months later, it was just too weird. Tro and Kat love it, so don't tell 'em I said that. They've got it up on their bedroom wall. I mean, I think they look great in that picture, but I guess it just hit home a little too hard, the way people were starting to see me. Not much sign of Shinimagi in that one, right? So no, seeing myself plastered across billboards and covers and the walls of subway stations doesn't really appeal to me much."  
  
Heero nodded slowly. "It would not be who you are, just someone's image of you. But people might mistake it for an accurate representation."  
  
Duo blinked. "Yeah. Exactly! Trowa might do it, though. They asked him, too."  
  
"He's used to being looked at. He wears masks and costumes all the time."  
  
Duo shook his head and smiled. It wasn't like he ever thought Heero was dumb or anything; they'd just never had this sort of conversation before. Who knew Heero was right up there with Quatre on the whole insight thing? "Anyway, the only one I want ogling me is this amazing, handsome, sexy guy I got sitting here holding my hand in public. That should get us in enough magazines as it is."  
  
Duo did hear a few camera shutters clicking as they left the restaurant and walked across to Ma Rainey's. It was Saturday night and there was a long line of hopefuls stretching down the block, but the guy working door had spotted them coming out of Jack's and he waved them inside, but not before giving them both a look that could have scorched asbestos. Heero didn't notice; Duo slipped an arm around Heero's waist and gave the doorman a grin and a wink. "All mine, buddy!" he muttered, aware of other admiring stares as they checked their coats and made their way through the murky, shifting colored lights to a booth near the dance floor.   
  
The dj was playing some fast retro reggae, the air sparkled with glitter dust and maybe a few mood enhancers, and the floor was jammed with a pulsing, grooving crowd of good looking guys. Discreetly placed cameras panned the crowd, zeroing in on couples and projecting them on large screens around the room. Duo inhaled the familiar thick aroma of hot bodies, mingled colognes, and pot. This would have been a good night to hook up with someone if he was alone, he thought without the slightest pang of regret. He already had the best-looking guy in the room, or any damn room anywhere.  
  
"I love this place! More research?" he asked, raising his voice over the music as he slid over to snuggle with Heero.  
  
Heero put an arm around him, looking pleased with himself again. "Nicky recommended it. I had planned to go to a place called Starz, based on their website, but he warned me off."  
  
"It's an OK place, but this is better." The reggae number ended and Duo recognized the opening bars of a favorite southern rock classic. "Hey, you got the boots on for this one. Come dance with me, baby!"  
  
+  
  
The sort of unstructured dancing that accompanied this sort of music had been the hardest for Heero to master, but unfortunately, the kind of skill most often called for during his undercover work at various high schools. After a few rather embarrassing experiences, he learned to relax, find the beat, and emulate the dancers around him. He did that now, dancing for the first time with Duo, and for the first time, it felt more like fun and less like just another act of subterfuge.   
  
He and Duo attended the same school dance once, before the New Edwards attack. Duo was a great dancer then, and maturity had only improved him. He lost himself in the music, head thrown back, smiling at Heero as they gyrated together in the crowd, almost touching, but not quite. He'd never seen his hair loose in public like this. It swirled around him, catching the lights and brushing across Heero's arms and hands. Duo took off the leather jacket after a few dances and Heero found himself mesmerized by the way the bracelets moved on his lover's wrists as he flung his arms up and rocked his hips to the driving beat. Heero was aware of other men staring at his date. He even felt eyes on himself, and saw men catch his eye and lick their lips in a suggestive manner. Heero ignored them, and didn't even feel jealous. Duo was dancing just for him.   
  
A slow song came on, moody and erotic. Duo stepped in close and rested his forearms on Heero's shoulders, inviting closer intimacy with half-lidded eyes and swaying hips. Heero clasped those hips loosely, wanting to feel that movement without controlling it. They moved together effortlessly, naturally, with the same unspoken connection they'd felt backing each other up in hand to hand combat situations. Their bodies weren't pressed together, just the subtle contact of thighs and bellies and swaying pelvises. It felt good, sort of like sex, but mostly like walking on the beach together in silence or waking up in the morning with Duo spooned in behind him under the covers, that long hair tickling Heero's cheek. So good that suddenly Heero was swallowing a tightness in his throat and gently pulling Duo in closer to brush those slightly parted lips with his.   
  
Duo's eyes fluttered shut, and he reached to lightly stroke a hand over Heero's hair and cup his cheek as he kept up that light friction against Duo's lips. The song ended and another slow one came on. This time Duo did press against him, wrapping his arms around Heero's waist and resting his cheek on Heero's shoulder. It was a lot like cuddling in bed, only they were both standing up, swaying slowly to the music. Heero pressed one hand to the warm, bare skin at the small of Duo's back. The other stroked down over that long hair to rest just between his shoulder blades. Resting his cheek against Duo's head, he breathed in the much-loved scent of sandalwood and Duo Maxwell.   
  
This was good. Really, really good. He kept his eyes closed, savoring the feeling of Duo's warm body moving against his. Before the song ended, however, he was suddenly aware of space around them. Opening one eye, he realized that the crowd had cleared around them, leaving them in a small circle of open floor. The cameras had found them at last and Heero saw multiple incarnations of the two of them, swaying together in a pool of blue spotlight. He felt Duo chuckle and knew he'd noticed, too.   
  
The Duo in his arms, and half a dozen Duos on screens around the room leaned back slightly, winked at the unseen camera, and kissed all those Heeros again. The room exploded with cheers and applause as a fresh fall of glitter drifted down over the room, dusting his lover's hair and bare arms with tiny sparkles. Heero brushed a few from Duo's upper lip and kissed him again, just because he could.  
  
"This is gonna be on the news for sure, y'know," Duo whispered when Heero let him up for air.  
  
"Probably."  
  
"You don't mind?"  
  
"Why would I mind?"  
  
Duo kissed him again as the song ended and the crowd surged back around them. Total strangers murmured happy greetings, even shook their hands. Heero tensed again, feeling uncomfortably exposed. For a little while they'd been anonymous, just another couple in the crowd. Now they were celebrities, public property. Duo fended them off, turning down drink offers with considerable charm, but Heero could tell he wasn't any happier about it.  
  
No one hounded them back to their table, but something had changed. With a pang of regret, Heero leaned close to Duo's ear and whispered, "Stay or go?"  
  
Duo nodded toward the door, so they reclaimed their coats and slipped out a back way Duo knew and into a dimly lit alley. There were other people out there, smoking or making out against the damp brick walls. No one seemed to take any notice of them as they strolled out to the street.   
  
"You did great in there," Duo said softly, as he claimed Heero's hand again. "You didn't even try to shoot anyone."  
  
"Did I look like I was going to?"   
  
"Once or twice." Duo hugged him. "You still got it, babe."  
  
"Got what?"  
  
"That special Yuy Death Glare. And it still totally fries my circuits."  
  
"That's a good thing?"  
  
"Very good."  
  
Heero kept an arm around Duo as they wandered down toward the harbor. The stars were bright overhead and the cold ocean breeze felt good after the closeness of the club. It was late enough that the club set was still dancing and most everyone else was home inside. A few cars passed them as they crossed the main street and followed it along the waterfront. A bell buoy chimed mournfully somewhere out across the water, and the boats in the marina creaked in their berths. A rusty van with a bad muffler rumbled by, breaking the quiet, then a pickup truck. Heero tracked them absently.  
  
"I really like it here on Earth," he murmured. "The open space, and all the smells."  
  
"Yeah, me, too." Duo sounded a little sad.  
  
Heero looked down at him. "What?"  
  
"We've sorta been on vacation since Madrid. That'll be over soon. You've been on the streets, and the closest thing I've got to a home anymore is Trowa's trailer. I don't even have my own bed. No stuff, except some clothes. No real job."  
  
"I thought you worked for Trowa."  
  
Duo shrugged. "I guess. But that started out as pity work, and me wanting to pretend I was earning my keep, staying with them. No one else would hire me after-well, you know."  
  
"But you do good work for them. Quatre said so. And those masks are very good. And you seem to enjoy it."  
  
"Yeah, I guess." He found an elastic in his coat pocket and gathered his hair up over one shoulder, plaiting it into a loose braid.  
  
"What do you want to do? For work, I mean."  
  
Duo wrapped the elastic around the end of the braid and sighed. "Not be a killer anymore."  
  
"What else?"  
  
He shrugged again. "That's as far as I've gotten."  
  
"Yeah. Me, too."  
  
"At least you got J's trust fund money to fall back on, along with that oh so very generous pension ESUN granted us."  
  
Heero stopped and turned to Duo. "I've got more than that. During the war I used to hack Alliance contractor bank accounts just for the practice-- and to take it away from them."  
  
Duo laughed. "We all wondered what you were up to, all those hours on the computer. Guess it wasn't all sex research, huh?"  
  
"No, I actually have quite a lot, hidden in numbered accounts. Not like what Quatre has, but enough so that I don't have to worry about money for a while." He paused and shook his head. "Funny, but this is the first time I really thought about spending any of it. I didn't think I'd live to use it, just wanted to fuck with the enemy."  
  
"Well, sounds like you're set."   
  
Duo started to move on but Heero put his hands on his shoulders. "So are you. It's not charity or pity, either. I don't care about money. I hardly know what to do with it. But I want you with me, and I've got more than enough to keep us both comfortable. It's as much your money as mine, as far as I'm concerned. It's not like I actually earned it."  
  
Duo was about to argue when they heard the van coming back their way. It came around the corner ahead of them, the truck still trailing in its wake. Heero bent and retrieved the gun from his boot, hiding it in his right coat pocket for now, but keeping his hand on it.   
  
Both vehicles stopped across the street from them and eight men climbed out, along with several girls. Three of the men were armed with baseball bats. Heero could smell the alcohol on them from here.   
  
"Well well, whata we got here? Coupla fags, out for a stroll," a beefy guy in a ball cap sneered. He and his buddies looked just drunk enough to be dangerous. The others were hooting and making kissing sounds, no doubt to intimidate and shame their intended prey.  
  
Swinging his bat from the shoulder, as if at a pitch, the leader ambled toward Heero. "Good night for fag hunting, right, boys?"   
  
There was more hooting and catcalls as Duo stepped away from Heero and let the long topcoat fall away. Their adversaries might think they were looking at a longhaired, skinny club kid, but Heero recognized the fight-ready stance. Gun or no gun, Shinigami was about to make an appearance. If Heero had been in better shape, he might have done the same. Instead, he quietly drew the Glock, keeping it hidden behind his thigh as he slipped the safety off.  
  
The leader was halfway across the street when Heero leveled it at the man's face. "Is it a good night for you to die? I have more than enough bullets for all of you."  
  
"Aw, c'mon, baby, let me play with 'em a little, first!" Duo whined. "I haven't kicked the crap out of any redneck gay bashing pussies in days. I don't wanna lose my edge."   
  
Heero obligingly lowered his weapon. "Go for it, baby."  
  
The rednecks had come to a halt, too surprised or drunk or stupid to quite grasp this reversal.  
  
Duo walked toward the lead redneck in question and his voice dropped to a dangerous purr that sent a thrill through Heero. "C'mon, shithead. Let's dance!"   
  
The others began to edge back toward the cars, but their leader was either drunker or braver and took a swing at Duo's head.   
  
For a moment Duo was a blur. He ducked the swing easily and whirled into the air, landing a flying kick to the man's gut. The redneck went down hard and Duo caught the bat before it touched the ground. He took a few fast practice swings that whistled in the night air and nodded approvingly. "Nice balance. Good weight. OK, then. Who's next?"   
  
The man on the ground recovered enough to make a grab for Duo's ankle and Shinigami took his first game swing, smashing the man's hand against the pavement. The man let out a howl of pain and curled up into a ball. One of the girls screamed. The rest of the gang hung back, gaping at Duo and keeping a wary eye on Heero's gun hand.  
  
"Jesus fuck, they're nuts!" someone muttered.  
  
Duo flipped the bat into the air and caught it in another roundhouse swing. "Truer words were never spoken, my friend. We are nuts. Certifiable. And between us we've killed more assholes like you than you've got teeth. So, ya got one strike out and no one on base. Who's up next?"  
  
The others turned tail and piled back into the vehicles, peeling out in a screech of tires and roar of exhaust, leaving their fallen leader behind.  
  
Duo rested the bat on his shoulder and turned to Heero, Shinigami grin still bright. "Aw, they're no fun! I didn't even get warmed up."   
  
Heero walked over to the fallen man and pressed the gun muzzle to his temple. "You insulted my date."  
  
Terrified bloodshot eyes goggled up at them. "I--I didn't mean nothin'!"  
  
"Yeah, asshole, you did," Duo purred, leaning on Heero's shoulder and licking his ear.   
  
The redneck's fear was palpable in Heero's nostrils as the stink of sweat and cheap whiskey. "Apologize to my date."  
  
"Sorry! Sorry for--O Fuck, don't kill me, Mister!"  
  
Heero pressed the gun a little more firmly to the man's head. "Apologize better."  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm an asshole. A pussy redneck, just like you said," the man babbled, caught like a doomed rabbit in that Yuy Death Glare.  
  
"Tell my date he is beautiful," Heero growled.  
  
"Huh? What the-- Oh, yeah. You're beautiful, kid. A real knock out."  
  
Heero frowned down at him. "That didn't sound very sincere."  
  
"You're fucking gorgeous," the man whimpered. "Best looking fag--guy I ever saw." Duo's braid fell forward over his shoulder and recognition surfaced trough the fear and alcohol haze in the prone man's eyes. "Oh fuck. It's you guys! I didn't--We didn't-- Holy fuck, sorry we jumped you."  
  
"Jumped us?" Duo chuckled darkly. "Don't flatter yourself, asshole. Let him go, babe. He's stinking up the street."  
  
Heero stepped back, but kept the gun out where the man could see it. The man cowered, apparently thinking he was being played with. Duo gave him a helpful kick in the ass. "Go on. Go and sin no more and all that good stuff."  
  
The man staggered up, cradling his broken hand.  
  
"Go on," Duo said again. "Before my friend and I lose this merciful feeling we got going. Trust me, you don't want to see us mad. In fact, you don't ever want to see us again, right?"  
  
"Yeah, right. You got it!" The guy staggered off in the direction his friends had gone.   
  
Duo tossed the bat into the harbor and turned to Heero, still grinning. "Hey, that was fun! Part of your grand plan?"  
  
"No." Heero picked up Duo's fallen coat and draped it around his friend's shoulders. "Time to go home?"  
  
"Yeah, let's go home. Oh, and the way you defended my honor and all that?"  
  
Heero swallowed, bracing for a lecture on how Duo could take care of himself.   
  
Instead, Duo pressed up against him, letting Heero feel the hard grind of his erection as he ran his tongue over Heero's bottom lip. "That was really romantic!"


	30. Friendly Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Peacecraft's moods remained in flux over the first few weeks at the estate. One day he would be silent, hardly acknowledging Wufei's presence. On others, he purposely sought him out, for games of chess or riding, to spot him in the gym, sometimes simply a meandering walk in the gardens. He did not speak of Treize again, but sometimes he spoke of battle. On the worst days, he seemed to go out of his way to be hurtful, revealing a shocking knowledge of the missions Wufei had carried out, and the outcomes. He reminded him of the trap all five had been lured into at New Edwards, and of his failure in his duel with Kushreneda. Evidently the man had told his friend of this in detail. He spoke of officers he'd trained personally, who'd died fighting against the Gundams, of facilities and bases he'd seen in the wake of those attacks, and the collateral damage he'd witnessed.   
  
In short, he kept Wufei on edge. It was not guilt that kept the young Preventer awake after those bad days; war was war. He'd done what was needed. And as for collateral damage, he'd watched his home colony blown to bits before his eyes. The scale was heavily tipped in his favor on that account.   
  
No, it was the way Peacecraft seemed intent on undermining his abilities, if only in retrospect. His fellow pilots had respected him; even Yuy had made that clear, though Wufei had not felt worthy of that regard. No, Peacecraft was accomplishing with apparent spite what Treize Kushreneda had accomplished with mercy, making him feel unworthy. Only Peacecraft's rank and Wufei's role as his protector kept him from striking back. He'd have killed anyone else.  
  
One afternoon after Peacecraft had made a point of doing it in front of Sally over a rare shared luncheon in the park, his resolve nearly deserted him. Wufei had to walk away, biting his lip to keep from screaming out his despair and frustration as he stalked the garden maze. Violence had built up inside him like a static charge. If he didn't find some outlet, he was going to harm Peacecraft.  
  
Sally found him in the gazebo by the koi pond, pushing himself through the most difficult katas he knew. He'd stripped off his jacket and shirt. Sweat rolled down his chest and flattened his tightly bound hair against his scalp.  
  
"What are you doing here? It's your shift," he snapped, not pleased to be seen like this.  
  
"He's resting in his room with three of my handpicked men outside his door. You and I need to talk. Please, Wufei, stop and pay attention."  
  
Wufei grudgingly stood and folded his arms, not liking the look in her eyes. Sally didn't pry often, but when she did, she was unstoppable. The last thing he needed right now was her sympathy or concern. That was like salt on his lacerated spirit.  
  
"You don't see what he's doing, do you?"  
  
"His insults are of no consequence."  
  
"Bullshit." Sally sat down on the wrought iron bench by the gazebo railing and crossed her legs. Clearly, she intended this to be a long confrontation.   
  
Wufei clamped his mouth shut and leaned his elbows on the gazebo rail, staring down at the orange and white koi swimming lazily below. Perhaps she'd just go away if he ignored her.  
  
"You two are so much alike I want to slap both of you!" she said at last.  
  
That brought him around. "Alike? How exactly?"  
  
"Stubborn. Stiff-necked. Selfish. Blind to anyone's misery but your own."  
  
He let out a harsh laugh. "If you've come to make me feel better, you're doing a very poor job!"  
  
"Who said anything about making you feel better? When's the last time you tried to do that for anyone else?" The words cut deep, but she said them with a certain weary compassion.   
  
They were both silent for a long time, then she sighed. "Why do you think we stopped sleeping together, Wufei? The sex was good, right? But you were never there. Not really. Some part of you is still back there in the war, second guessing yourself and trying to measure up to a dead man."  
  
"That's none of your-"  
  
"Yes, it is, because it's affecting your performance. No, don't interrupt me. This has been a long time coming. So shut up and listen because you need to hear this and I'm the only one who'll ever tell you.  
  
"It has nothing to do with Kushreneda or Peacecraft or anyone else. I saw it in you when we met that first time in China, long before you met either of them."  
  
"Saw what?"  
  
"An arrogant, angry little boy who happened to be really good at one thing, one who when out of his way to be unpleasant to everyone, to keep them away so they wouldn't see that he was scared to death of everything else."  
  
"That's a lie!" Wufei hissed.  
  
"No, it isn't. Your precious honor, all that ranting about justice and truth? I'm older than you, remember, and unlike you, I'm trained to observe people in order to heal them, not kill them. Without that stubborn, driving, all consuming arrogance of yours, and enemies to fight, you didn't know who the hell you were. You still don't. And if you don't know that, then you can't connect with anyone else. I wanted to help you, because I also saw a good, strong, decent person under all the fear. Or at least I thought so. But when we tried to have a relationship--no, scratch that--when _I_ tried to have a relationship with you, it wasn't even a one way street."  
  
"You enjoyed it!"  
  
"The sex? Yes, you were highly competent. But not on my account. Sure, you knew all the right parts and how to work them. You made me come every time. Mission accomplished. But that's all I saw in your eyes afterwards every time; mission accomplished. Not only did you not have any sense of my feelings, you didn't know your own heart enough to know love when it was in bed with you."  
  
"You never loved me."  
  
"Of course I did!"  
  
He clutched the railing for a moment, feeling like she'd knocked the breath out of his lungs. "I didn't ask for love."  
  
"You didn't have to. It was free, but you have to accept it willingly and you can't because you don't recognize it, any more than a colorblind man sees blue. It's right there in front of you, and you don't have a clue. You don't even see all the people who still care about you."  
  
"The people who cared about me died in front of me. Their bodies are scattered among the wreckage of L-5."  
  
"And your soul, too," Sally said sadly. "What about Trowa and Quatre? And Maxwell?"  
  
"You are suggesting they love me?" That made him laugh again, with all the humor of a gunshot.  
  
"They still call you, don't they? You give them absolutely nothing, and still they call you."  
  
"When they need something. Yes, they call me, because I'm still useful. I have connections--"  
  
"Don't flatter yourself. I have more connections than you do, and they all know it. And let's not forget Relena Peacecraft. Think maybe she'd be a little more 'useful' than you? But no, they call you, mostly. Not her. Not me. Not any of a dozen other ESUN officials in their debt. You."  
  
"You wouldn't understand. You and the others, you weren't Gundam pilots."  
  
"Ah yes! Your sacred Gundam brotherhood. And one, from all accounts, that you fought tooth and nail to stay out of, yes? You think I didn't talk to the others, back when I was still trying to figure you out? That Quatre is really something. He kept at you, and the rest of them didn't shoot you back then. And yet you don't even have sense enought to notice how they stay in touch with you now, when there's no battle to fight."  
  
"And that's love, is it?"   
  
"Yes. Not like what Trowa and Quatre have, if that's what you're thinking," she shot back. "Not like I felt for you, either. The five of you, different as you are in just about every way, you spent a year living a life no one else in the universe can claim. Yes, you were Gundam pilots, child terrorists, caught in a war that changed you forever in ways no one else will ever understand. You're brothers, and brothers don't always get along or agree or even like each other, but there's still a bond and that's love. You've worked damn hard to break it, but they haven't let you go yet, have they?"  
  
"I suppose a woman would see it like that, the need for some deep connection. Love!" he sneered, but suddenly remembered the invitation from Winner, still unanswered. "Next thing you'll be telling me I love Milliardo Peacecraft, since he was a mobile suit pilot, too. Is he my brother?"  
  
"I don't know, Wufei, but he's more like you than anyone else I've ever met. More than any of the others."  
  
"Ah yes, back where we started. And how exactly do you figure that? Aside from the fact that we're both selfish bastards? That's the only thing you've been right about so far, by the way."  
  
Sally shook her head sadly. "You're both suffering, Wufei. You're both lost. And you're both maimed. The only difference is that his scars show. He's not crazy, you know. He's in pain. So are you."  
  
"No, I'm not."  
  
"Really? Then what's with the dope smoking?" Sally allowed herself a sneer of her own at his startled hiss. "Think you could hide that from me? Get a clue, Wufei. Did you bring any with you? Maybe you could share some with him. I'm sure Treize Kushreneda would be very proud of that solution, don't you think?"  
  
Wufei had been slowly simmering under this unexpected attack. Now it flared into full-blown anger. "I do my job!" he snarled, leaning over her. "I follow orders. If you have any complaints on my performance as your partner or as a Preventer, feel free to file a complaint. What I do on my own time is no one's business so long as it does not interfere with that!"  
  
He'd expected her to back down or get angry, hopefully even to leave. But she just sat there. "Why that, Wufei? Why does a man like you, so driven to perfection in every other way, choose drugs to fill his empty hours?"  
  
"It doesn't matter," he growled, hating her for the pity in her eyes.   
  
"Funny, that's what Peacecraft told me when I asked why he refused a prosthetic arm."  
  
"Ah, and this is the point at which I am supposed to have some stunning personal revelation, is it? Two broken warriors, thrown together by fate so that they can find redemption? Is that what this little intervention is all about?"  
  
"Redemption? No. Perhaps just some common ground. At least that's what Relena hoped you could do for him when she requested you personally for this shit detail."  
  
"Requested me?"  
  
Sally smirked. "That's the polite way of putting it. And it was both of us, actually. Me for my medical background and knowledge of the pilot mentality. You because she believes, as I do, that you are like her brother. She thought so back when you and Heero worked for her, before anyone was sure Peacecraft would survive. Then again, what does she know? She's just a silly woman, right?" Sally stood up at last. "Well, I think that's about all I had to say. If you're going to go anesthetize yourself, you'd better hurry. You've got the night shift in four hours. Oh, and one last observation, for whatever it's worth. He's never insulted me the way he does you. When he speaks to me at all, he's a perfect gentleman. Quite charming, actually, when he wants to be."  
  
"You weren't a mobile suit pilot! You weren't a warrior!"  
  
He thought he saw her smile as she turned and walked away. "Neither are you, my friend. Not anymore."   
  
Wufei forced himself to stay at the gazebo and meditate, not wanting to admit that she'd been right about his plans for the afternoon. Not that it would have affected his performance. He knew to the most exact standard how to use the drugs. In small amounts it even aided concentration and after nearly an hour of futile effort, only his wounded pride kept him from resorting to them. No matter how much he focused, damnable half-realized emotions kept surfacing just below the surface of his fragile inner calm, like the fish in the murky water of the pond. A warrior had no use for emotion, not ones that distracted like this! He quelled them mercilessly, driving them back down into the darkness of his mind.   
  
He tried again, using the fish and the water as a focusing image, but try as he might, he found himself distracted by Sally's unexpected outburst, and the fact that Relena chosen to waste him here in this boring, pointless, maddening assignment without even having the decency to tell him why.  
  
Damnable women, meddling without the least idea of what they were doing!   
  
  
He was nothing like Peacecraft. Nothing at all.  
  
+  
  
Stubborn. Stiff-necked. Selfish.  
  
Over the next two days Sally could have added "silent" and "sulking" to that succinctly alliterative list. Wufei tended his wounded pride in private, drugging more just to spite her, polite but barely when he had to interact with her on a day-to-day basis.   
  
But he was not stupid, and, contrary to what most who knew him thought, he was not without feeling, either. Even drugs could not deaden the stirrings that woke him too early and anxious each morning.  
  
He tried at first to forget her words about Peacecraft and himself, as well, but instead they took root and he found himself looking at the man with new eyes, seeing for the first time the lack of balance in the man's stance, the dark circles under his eyes, the slight tremor in his remaining hand as he lifted a spoon or moved a chess piece. At first Wufei took pleasure in these signs of weakness. And it did cast a different light on the needling he still aimed at Wufei during their morning rides. Wufei could sneer inwardly, seeing them for what they really were; the thrashing of a wounded animal, aware of its own vulnerability.   
  
The third morning after her little chat, Wufei rose just before dawn, put on his loose white trousers and a black tee-shirt, and took his sword and long staff to a sheltered, grassy lawn near one of the estate's many fountains. He tried meditate, but his stubborn mind wandered. Impatient, he instead began an opening series of katas, softly reciting the Twelve Descriptions of Wu-Yi practice as he moved.  
  
"In motion, move like a thundering wave."  
  
Feint, turn, kick.  
  
"When still, be like a mountain.  
  
He paused balanced on one bent leg, motionless as a stone.  
  
"Rising up, be like a monkey."  
  
He sprang into the air, and realized with dismay that it was a dismal launch.  
  
"Land swiftly and lightly like a bird."  
  
Doubt distracted him and his ankle wobbled.  
  
"Be steady like a rooster on one leg."  
  
Concentrate, damn it!  
  
"One's stance is as firm as a pine tree, yet expresses motion."  
  
A pine tree in a breeze, he grumbled silently.  
  
"Spin swiftly and circularly like a wheel."  
  
Yes, he could do that.   
  
"Bend and flex like a bow."  
  
A creaky bow, in need of flexing.  
  
"Waft gracefully like a leaf in the wind."  
  
O fuck!  
  
"Sink like a heavy piece of metal."  
  
He bowed low, Nataku falling to Earth.  
  
His heart lurched. Find a different image!  
  
"Prey like a watchful, gliding eagle."  
  
"I am!" he muttered through gritted teeth, but felt the lie.  
  
"Accelerate like a gusty wind."  
  
Snatching up the long staff, he threw himself into a long series of whirling, spinning attacks and feints, trying to outdistance his own doubt. He drove himself on, whirling, flying, summoning the fire in the belly he'd always relied on. But only a grudging spark flared and at last he stumbled and felt to his knees, gripping the staff in white knuckled hands as sweat ran in clammy little runnels down his neck, back and chest. He did not feel swift or firm, flexible or steady, and he sure as hell wasn't wafting.   
  
"I'm going soft, just like he has," he admitted softly, turning his face up to the brightening sky. Sally was perhaps at least partly right. He'd been wallowing in self-pity. He did feel lost without a war to fight. He believed at this moment that who he had been before the war-- before Nataku and all the rest of it--that the earnest young scholar he'd been before circumstance ripped his chosen future from him, had died with L-5 and his friends and clan and all his kind, patient old teachers.  
  
"I have lost the Way," he murmured, bowing his head in shame. The question was, could he ever find his way back? Did he even want to? What was the point, after all?  
  
Returning to his spare, tidy room, he showered and dressed for the day, ate his customary breakfast of tea, fruit, and congee, made the bed and put every spare object away in its place. That still left him with nearly five empty hours until he must face Peacecraft at lunch.  
  
Five hours.  
  
Enough time to take edge off.   
  
Stripping off his uniform, he put on his old indigo cotton yukata, and pulled out the small, double-locked strongbox that held his stash and other personal items from under the bed.   
  
Sally was wrong on one point, at least. He wasn't smoking in his room here. He still had enough will or pride not to be that stupid. No, he did not attempt to smuggle opium balls or a bag of L-2 Gold through Sanque customs or Peacecraft's own security here, though he was more than capable of doing so. No, it was far easier to transport these small, innocuous looking brown vials of pure THC-38, a wonderful, ingenious distillation of all that was best in weed, with none of the risks. No smoke. No guessing of potency or effect. No telltale odors on his clothes. Nothing but pure peace of mind in an eyedropper. One drop now, perhaps even two, and he would not have to worry about anything but a little redness in his eyes, and that was easily explained away or hidden on a sunny Earth-side summer day like this. Perhaps he should develop a convenient allergy.   
  
He was lying on his bed, dropper poised at his lips, ready, willing and able, but instead he thought of how his ankle had betrayed him earlier, how wooden his motions had felt.   
  
A drop and it was all gone, at least long enough to fool himself.  
  
Just one drop, under the tongue. Just squeeze that little rubber bulb and swallow peace.  
  
He couldn't do it.   
  
Sitting up, he replaced the dropper in the bottle and carefully locked it away. It was there if he needed it, right? He could reach for it any time he wanted.  
  
But right now it wasn't what he wanted.  
  
Instead, he seated himself cross-legged on the floor, back resting against the side of the bed and tried to meditate again. It was no use going for clear mind; that wasn't going to happen. Instead he let his thoughts wander where they would, imagining them as clouds drifting across the clear blue of his true consciousness. It was hard work at first, but somehow he managed it and sank gratefully into the inner stillness he'd sought. Random thoughts darted like birds across that clear inner blue for some time-a hurtful comment from Peacecraft. Sally's face as she told him she'd loved him. The shock of acknowledging that he'd been so blind to it. Meirin, the last time he'd seen her, scowling impatiently at him. The feeling of Nataku's controls in his hands. The smell of roses drifting in at his open window. A bit of poetry, diligently memorized and long neglected.   
  
_Weak and exposed in appearance;_  
 _But powerful when unleashed._  
 _One's reactions may start afterwards,_  
 _But the response arrives there first._  
  
Eyes still closed, he felt a chagrinned smile tug at his lips. The words of a woman, Yuh Niuy. A woman warrior who several thousand years ago, a few thousand miles from where he sat nursing his pride like a wounded wolf, had emerged victorious over three thousand of the Zhou king's best swordsmen and founded the very practice and philosophies he supposedly espoused.   
  
A woman. He wondered if Sally had ever studied Wu-Yi. If so, she would surely know this fact.  
  
Stubborn. Stiff-necked. Selfish. Add sexist and short of memory to that inventory.  
  
He let it go and sank further into the relaxed state, letting more of Yuh Niuy's wisdom surface. Without even realizing, he recited the words aloud. "'The Way is so small and simple, but the meaning is timeless and profound. The Way has an entrance; it also has a Yin and a Yang. The entrance constantly opens and closes, Yin and Yang weaken and flourish.'"  
  
Ebb and flow. Nothing lost, nothing stable, nothing fixed. He frowned slightly, fishing for the next line.  
  
"'When the Way is battle, be full-spirited within, but outwardly show calm and be relaxed; appear to be as gentle as a fair lady, but react like a vicious tiger.'"  
  
The lady and the tiger. Yin and Yang. Light and dark. Being and nonbeing. Halves of one whole.  
  
"'Though hidden within, the spirit of the body moves; though obscured like a setting sun, the spirit moves like an unleashed rabbit, catching the body and outrunning shadow like a mirage.'"  
  
Running rabbit. Skimming shadows. Rising like a monkey. Wafting like a leaf . . .  
  
"'Back and forth in one breath. The spirit cannot be retained in form. And, though ever moving, it cannot be heard.'"  
  
Wufei let himself drift in the calm, dark waters of his inner mind. Done with thought for the moment he simply let himself exist, until the gentle rhythm of his own breath and the tickle of something against his cheek brought him back to this room and this time and this patch of sunlight that had somehow tracked across the colorful carpet to find him. Raising his hand, he was surprised to feel tears on his face.   
  
He hadn't even realized. Except for that strange moment of weakness the other night, he hadn't wept since that day with Maxwell in the L-2 hospital. He felt his cheeks go warm at the memory, all four of them on the bed, arms around each other and weeping, convinced that Heero was dead. That the brotherhood of five, as Sally called it, was broken.  
  
He had not let them see, of course, burying his face in Maxwell's hair, swallowing all sound. But he had wept with them, and he realized now that he did not regret it, or feel any shame. It was probably the last time he'd shared anything like an honest human emotion with anyone.  
  
And before that? Not when Sally left his bed. Not when Heero left him behind without a word in Sanque. Not when Nataku disappeared from his life for good. No, before that, it was only when he'd killed Kushreneda; another warrior lost to the larger brotherhood.   
  
And before that? Not when death approached, when he and Maxwell lay gasping for air at that base. No, his own death had never frightened or humbled him.  
  
And before that? When L-5 turned briefly into a bright, shrapnel laced nova. Yes, he'd wept then.  
  
But had he wept for those others, or for his own loss of them? Was this the proof of his so-called selfishness, or the proof against it?  
  
He dried his face on the sleeve of his yukata and stood up, feeling sad and drained and light all at the same time. Sally had been right, about everything.   
  
Everything? She'd also said she thought he had the potential to be strong, and decent. He'd once thought the same, before death and blood and war made those qualities seem like a mocking illusion. Could he ever believe in those again?  
  
'The Way has an entrance; it also has a Yin and a Yang. The entrance constantly opens and closes, Yin and Yang weaken and flourish.'  
  
The Way.   
  
He pulled the strongbox out again. Setting aside the carved box containing the brown vials, pushing aside a pair of stained Chinese slippers that didn't fit anymore, a worn, too small black tank, a faded, leather dry leaf plucked in a Chinese forest to remember a moment of calm, he found the slim, silk wrapped shape he sought and drew it out. Untying the silk wrappings, he lifted out the book, letting himself admire the feel and smell of the fine leather binding, its spine sadly unmarked by use.   
  
He didn't recall ever mentioning his admiration for Lao Tzu's Tao Te Ching to Winner, or his lingering sorrow at having lost the copy Meirin had given him. They had shared no heartfelt chats during the war. Yet somehow, perhaps with that strange, knowing heart of his, Winner had thought to send this to Wufei soon after he was settled in Sanque that first time, trying to find his bearings.   
  
He opened the cover slowly, the scholar in him relishing the crackle of leather and new bindings. Winner had inscribed the book; Wufei traced a finger wistfully over the curly schoolboy handwriting: 'For the future. Your friend, Quatre Raberba Winner.'  
  
He had snorted at the sentiment the first time he'd read it, and put the book aside. Yet somehow it had found its way into this locked box anyway, carefully wrapped. It had been a thoughtful gift, from someone he did actually admire. But he'd never thought he would need these words again.  
  
It was a modern edition, stripped of the old Confucian dogma and reordered to reflect the earliest known versions. He read the opening verse and suddenly felt very naked.  
_  
'The person of superior integrity  
Does not insist on his integrity;  
For this reason, he has integrity.  
A person of inferior integrity   
Never loses sight of his integrity;  
For this reason, he lacks integrity.'_  
  
Wufei had no illusions about where he stood at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Wu-Yi: an ancient word for Wushu, the Chinese philosophy that encompasses all forms of Chinese martial arts. I am not an expert in any of this. Please be kind and I'll be careful.
> 
> Yuh Niuy: According to ancient Chinese history, during the "Spring and Autumn" and the "Warring States" periods (770 B.C. - 221 A.D.), the king of the Zhou kingdom ordered a sword contest. A young woman by the name of Yuh Niuy emerged from three thousand swordsmen as the ultimate victor in a seven-day contest. Her sword methods and philosophies were passed down for a thousand years. Some of her writings expound timeless Wushu philosophies. Take that, Wufei "Women have no place in battle" Chang! Ha!
> 
> The Twelve Descriptions characterize the composite elements of strength, speed, endurance, agility, coordination, and technical skill, which are all considered part of one's kung fu, or ability, in Wushu philosophy.
> 
> Lao Tzu and the Tao Te Ching. Lao Tzu (Old Master) is given credit for authoring the Tao Te Ching, one of the greatest books of wisdom in human history, but there seems to be not one shred of reliable evidence about him, or if a single author actually existed. A collection of oral wisdom appears to have come together sometime in the fourth century BC, and was written down in the next century.
> 
> The Tao: I recommend Victor H. Mair's excellent translation to anyone interested in a highly accessible version of this wonderful book, published by Bantam. If Wufei was indeed a scholar and student of philosophy in his earlier life, the Tao would quite probably have been a foundation cornerstone of his education. It should be a cornerstone of anyone's education, IMHO. :-)
> 
> And yes, I know that Yukata is a Japanese garment, but lots of people wear them as dressing gowns.


	31. Turnabout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Early the following morning Wufei sought Sally out. She was breakfasting alone on the terrace, reading files as she ate. Wufei paused just inside the French doors, observing her through the sheer curtains that covered the tall glass panes. He had fought beside this woman, worked with her, touched her bare breasts, felt her body's hot, secret grip around his member. He had shared what most people considered the highest level of intimacy with her, yet as she'd said, it had not so much as occurred to him that there might be love between them. He thought hard, trying to recall if he'd even felt affection.   
  
All he remembered was need and a certain level of comfort in her presence, but no passion beyond the physical act. He looked at her more closely, as if seeing her for the first time. Her uniform was impeccably pressed, as always, and her auburn hair lay over her shoulders in the same thick spiral braids. She looked tired, perhaps even stressed. That made her look older than she was, and highlighted the fact that she was four years his elder. She was fit, compact, and tall for their racial type. That, and her unusual coloring spoke of a mixed heritage. He tried to decide if she was pretty, but the word seemed meaningless in relation to her. He knew her too well to see her as anything other than familiar. That made him sad. So did the fact that this was the first time since they'd met that he'd even thought to ask himself such questions, to try and see her as an individual, and as a woman. He attempted, with this new, still-emerging clarity growing in him, to apply the term ex-lover, but it did not fit. He had not loved her. That could not be refuted or changed, even if he'd succumbed to pointless sentimentality and wished it otherwise. Ex-bedmate? Yes, that was factually true.   
  
He was capable of love, or at least he had been before the war. He'd loved his parents, his relatives and friends, many of his teachers. He'd come to love his young wife, Meirin, even though that had been an arranged political marriage and they had been too young to share a bed before she was lost. But he had loved her spirit, and the way she'd pushed and challenged him. At fifteen had he had any stirrings of the flesh toward her? He wasn't sure. Stirrings, certainly; there had been many guilty nights masturbating under the sheets with the lights out, biting his left thumb to keep silent. But he didn't recall associating that with Meirin. It would have been most indelicate.  
  
He shook himself, surprised at this odd train of thought. Meirin was gone. What had been between Sally and him was gone. There was only the now, he reminded himself, the ever-changing path of the Way before him.  
  
She looked up in surprise as Wufei joined her and poured himself a cup of tea. "Good morning. You're looking better."  
  
He nodded, sipping his tea.  
  
"Look, about the other day--"  
  
"'Sincere words are not beautiful. Beautiful words are not sincere,'" he quoted, and managed a small smile.   
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Lao Tzu?"  
  
"A first step in taking your excellent advice. I apologize for my poor attention to my duties of late. I will do better."   
  
Sally nodded. "Do you want to be reassigned? I could speak to Relena for you."  
  
"No. I'll stay here for now, if you'll have me. It's not as if I have any other pressing business, is it?" He glanced down at the files she'd been reading. They were medical reports on Peacecraft. "How is he doing?"  
  
"Physically, not bad. His muscle tone is inproving and the workouts are helping him."  
  
"His balance and alignment are not good, though."  
  
"The loss of a limb often does that, especially without a prosthetic replacement. I wish he'd consider, but so far he's adamant. Polite, but adamant."  
  
"And his mental state?"  
  
"As I said, he's miserable."  
  
"He has lost his center. He had no goal, no aspiration." Wufei waved a hand around at the lavish estate. "No doubt his sister means well, but I suspect he would have made a better recovery in a real prison, not this soft, poorly disguised confinement. In prison, he would have had adversity to hone him."  
  
"I think he would agree with you, but the politicians deemed otherwise. And he's not under house arrest, remember, but protective custody."  
  
Wufei allowed himself a dark chuckle at this. "Offering to drop a major chunk of hardware on the Earth and precipitate massive death and destruction tends not to endear one to the public."  
  
"Yes. Most people were able to forgive the soldiers, and even terrorists like us. But that was on a much grander scale."  
  
"Was he insane at the time?"  
  
"I prefer to think so. His records indicate a state of extreme stress and probably a personality disorder brought on by the roles he'd had to play. Imagine, the heir to the greatest pacifist power in modern history, forced to turn warrior, and finding himself in love with the leader of the militaristic autocracy . . ."  
  
Wufei choked on his tea. "In love? With whom?"  
  
"Kushreneda. Didn't you know?"  
  
"That's ridiculous!"  
  
"Not according to those who knew him at the Academy. It was platonic, apparently. Kushreneda was straight as a die and had quite an appetite for women, including Une."  
  
"But I thought Merquise-Peacecraft, I mean-I thought he was involved with that other officer. What was her name?"  
  
"Lucreztia Noin? That was platonic, too, by all reports. I spoke to her after the war. She loved him, but it wasn't returned the way she wanted it to be."  
  
"Peacecraft loved Kushreneda?" Wufei was still trying to get his head around that one. "Do you think that played a role in his going against his upbringing?"  
  
"Perhaps. It probably helped pull him apart psychically. That whole mask thing he did during the war? Talk about your physical manifestations of the inner landscape. When he lost the mask, he also lost his grip. Whether he chose to stand with Kushreneda or his heritage, he was going against his own conscience."  
  
"And if Kushreneda had been able to--reciprocate?"  
  
Sally let out a wry little laugh as she closed the folders. "Who knows? Maybe we'd all be living peacefully under the reign of a benevolent Kushreneda dictatorship, with Sanque's blessing? I don't know. It didn't' happen that way and here we are."  
  
Wufei rubbed at the knot of tension building between his eyes. "It seems that every time I turn around, someone else turns out to be gay! How did so many of them end up as warriors?"  
  
Sally laughed outright at this. "You were a scholar, but perhaps history was not your strongest subject?"  
  
"No, philosophy and poetry."  
  
"Some of the greatest warriors have had male lovers. Julius Caesar. Alexander the Great. The famous samurai poet-lovers of the feudal period? And have you never heard of the Theban Band? A cadre of paired lovers who would fight to the death rather than be dishonored by cowardice in front of their lover? They were unbeatable, until Alexander slaughtered them all together. And look at the warrior Peacecraft was. Evidently such leanings can make a warrior stronger under the right conditions, not weaker."  
  
Wufei snorted angrily. "Such feelings should not be a factor at all! This band you speak of may have worked that way for a time, but in the end they were still defeated."  
  
"I didn't know you were such a homophobe, Wufei."  
  
"I'm nothing of the sort! I simply don't approve of letting emotion get in the way."  
  
"Ah yes. That's why you felt women made poor warriors, as I recall."  
  
"In my experience, they did," he growled. "Even you let mercy blind you. You could have killed Yuy in the first days of the war if you hadn't taken pity on him long enough for Maxwell to steal him away."  
  
"As I understand it, so could your man Peacecraft, when Heero blew himself up. But he let Barton take him not knowing if he was dead or not."  
  
"We all thought he was dead."  
  
"Not Barton, apparently. Does that make him weak, or Peacecraft for not finishing the job and making certain?"  
  
"Such speculation after the fact is pointless!"  
  
"Ah, that's no answer, my scholarly friend. Score a point for me. And you are uncomfortable with the relationships between the other pilots."  
  
Wufei definitely did not like where this conversation had strayed. "I have no opinion on the matter. It is of no consequence what they do, or with whom. If I have any negative feelings in the matter, it is simply because of the irresponsible speculation about me that it has generated. It happened when Winner and Barton were running amok, and it's cropped up again, thanks to Maxwell and Yuy's little stunt in Madrid."  
  
"Little stunt?" Sally sounded genuinely annoyed now. Pulling a glossy gossip magazine from under the pile of files, she flipped it open and slapped it down in front of him. "They're in love, Wufei! Can't you at least be a little happy for them, after all they've been through?"  
  
There was a whole page of pictures of 01 and 02, dressed up like male prostitutes and hanging all over each other in what appeared to be some sort of gay club. New Provincetown, according to the bit of text that accompanied the disgusting spread. So they were in America now.  
  
Yuy's face was hard to read, unless you really looked at his eyes when they were aimed in Maxwell's direction. And Maxwell? As always, he wore his emotions like tattoos on his skin, for anyone to see. And in these pictures he looked deliriously, ridiculously happy. Wufei felt a certain degree of relief at that, having seen Duo at his worst more than once these past few years. But that mortifying moment in the Madrid hostel came back to him, unbidden; the sight of the two of them naked on that narrow bed, Maxwell's head between Yuy's legs, and Yuy--! Wufei suppressed a shocked quiver of emotion even now. Yuy had had an expression of such wanton abandon that Wufei had almost been able to convince himself, just for an instant, that it wasn't Yuy at all. Heero Yuy, the only living warrior he counted his superior, sprawled there, naked and flushed, mouth open in what appeared to be the throes of rapture-  
  
No! He crushed the memory and all the feelings it dredged up. It was no business of his what they did, so long as he did not have to have it rubbed in his face.  
  
"Wufei?" Sally waved a hand in front of his face. "Are you all right?"  
  
He slapped the magazine shut and pushed it back to her. "Such unseemly displays are of no consequence to me. But I resent the speculation that we were _all_ gay, that we were somehow chosen because of that common trait. Perhaps they subscribe to your Theban Band theory, no? The fact that I have not thrown myself into some hedonistic flesh hunt, and made myself available to the paparazzi with half naked women hanging on both arms seems to them to be proof of their salacious conclusions, rather than evidence that at least one of the five of us is mature enough to keep his fly zipped and his personal life private! Or perhaps I should have had sex with you in public when I had the chance--!"  
  
He broke off, horrified at his words and the loss of temper that had allowed them to come tumbling out so harshly. "Sally. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean that."  
  
"At least you were gentleman enough not to say 'fucked', though that's all we ever really amounted to." There was no mistaking the bitterness and sorrow behind her own terse tone.  
  
Wufei rose and bowed deeply to her. "I swear to you, on my honor and that of my ancestors, that I never once thought of it in those terms. I did not love you, it is true, but I never thought of you as a convenient-- as a convenience of any sort. I always held you in the highest esteem as a professional and teammate, but looking back these past few days, I realize that my behavior toward you as a woman was heartless and unworthy. I ask your forgiveness, though I know I don't merit it."  
  
"Oh, sit down, will you? And let's change subject. This one is giving me a headache."  
  
"And me." He rubbed at his forehead again, wondering if acceptance of his apology had been tacit in her reply. He didn't think so.  
  
They drank their tea in silence for a while, gazing out over the lush gardens below and not at each other. "So, what the hell is it Relena thinks I can do for her brother? He can't be a warrior again."  
  
"He can't fight again, but can't all that energy and talent be redirected? He's an incredibly intelligent and talented man, but he can't see that right now. He's too broken, and still too caught up in guilt to imagine any sort of future. But Relena thinks he can be saved, and I agree."  
  
"Perhaps-" Wufei paused, caught up in the sudden empathy he felt for the man. "Perhaps being left alone in a room with a pistol would have been a kinder fate for him."  
  
Sally's expression hardened instantly. "I wish I could take that as a bad joke, or you just thinking hypothetically. But I know you're not. If you really do want to stay on this detail, I need your sacred word, on your honor, that you will not to encourage or allow him any such option, or turn a blind eye if you think he means to take such a step. Is that understood?"  
  
Wufei felt himself bristle again but fought down the instinctive retort that rose to his lips. Old habits were not to be shed by a day's mediation or good intentions; there was much work ahead.   
  
"I give you my oath," he replied as calmly as he could. "Such actions on my part as a Preventer would be totally lacking in integrity. I accept that I was chosen for this assignment in order to help him in some way. Do you have any suggestions as to how I might begin?"  
  
Sally sat back and glanced at the files. "Challenge him. I must admit, I've admired your restraint so far, but it's not doing him any good. You can't harm him physically, of course, but you don't have to take his abuse or countenance his self-pity. Oh, and by the way. He can't fire you. You are here under Relena's aegis and only she can demand your removal. This does allow you a certain extra degree of latitude."  
  
"I see. Challenge him. Hn."  
  
Sally chuckled. Perhaps she had forgiven him after all. "I should think you'd enjoy it. After all, it's what he's been doing to you since you arrived."  
  
Wufei set his empty cup aside and rose, bowing to her again. "I hope I can find a more productive method than the one he has employed. Thank you again, Sally, for your wisdom, and your insight in this matter. And-"  
  
She looked up expectantly.  
  
"And I will try to be more worthy of your regard in the future. I uh-I left a parcel in your room on my way here. I think you will know best what to do with it."  
  
Sally smiled, those blue eyes warm again with an approval that did not shame him. "Thank you, Wufei. I don't think we need to speak any further about that." As he turned to go, she added, "What I revealed to you about Milliardo's orientation? I know I don't have to say this, but I will anyway, since I've effectively already betrayed a confidence. Keep it under your hat. I don't think he cares, but it's something of a sore point with his sister."  
  
+  
  
Wufei arrived late at the gym and found Peacecraft already at his workout. He was reclining in the tilted seat of the thigh press, working his legs; the front of his gray tank top and the waistband of his expensive sweatpants were already soaked through with perspiration. Pale wisps of hair lay damp against his flushed forehead. He made no effort to conceal the stump at his left shoulder. The arm had been burnt or sheared off just above the elbow. According to Sally, there was enough muscle and nerve tissue left intact above that to operate the most complex and fully articulated prosthetic arm and hand. He could even have the limited the use of mechanical fingers, if he'd only try.  
  
Those intense blue eyes stayed focused on some distant point as he continued, but he was clearly aware of Wufei's arrival. "Oversleep, did we, Chang?"   
  
"No, I was considering how to augment your physical regime. The program you are currently using is sadly lacking."  
  
That got the man's attention. "Really? I wasn't aware you had any background in physical therapy." Finishing his set with a few last powerful thrusts of those long, well-muscled legs, he climbed out of the machine and threw a towel over his neck. He took in Wufei's outfit with a dismissive glance.   
  
He'd changed from his uniform into his practice clothing, the loose pants and tank top, and thrown on his yukata for modesty when passing through the halls. Wufei let the acid comment pass. Peacecraft was in a foul mood, but he chose to rise above personal concerns and concentrate on the belief that Peacecraft was acting out of weakness in his attacks, rather than any true superiority.  
  
"I do not have such training, but I am a Wu-Yi master and have the eyes to see that you are carrying your left shoulder at least two inches higher than your right, due to the loss of the arm's natural balancing weight. It is already affecting the muscles of your right side. I see it in the way you're standing now, with your right hip slightly tucked, and the way you sit your horse when you ride. The muscles on the right are shortening and pulling your body off center. Ignore that, as you and your therapists clearly have been, and you will end up a hunchback, and in constant pain. You will find yourself falling off your horses and wondering why. You have built up muscle fiber, but without flexibility, you simply become thick and clumsy."  
  
Peacecraft's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Indeed? And what does your Wu-Yi training suggest I do about this?" Even with a damaged voice, he had no trouble injecting a full measure of disdain into that husky whisper of his.  
  
Wufei kicked off his soft cloth shoes and dropped the equipment bag he'd brought on the ground. From it he pulled out two short staffs. He tossed one to Peacecraft, and then planted his bare feet in a wide stance, holding his own by one end, like a sword. If this gambit worked, they would need proper practice weapons, but for now these would do.  
  
"We will fence, Peacecraft. Any defects in balance will be made clear by flaws in your performance, so we may work to correct them. Your personal physician has already approved this course of action."  
  
Peacecraft threw the staff down and rasped out, "Thank you, little Chang, but I am satisfied with my current exercise program."  
  
Wufei relaxed his stance, but kept a good grip on his staff. "Ah, I see. You have lost your confidence. I suppose that is understandable. I'll go set up the chess board in a sunny part of the garden, so you don't take a chill."   
  
Somewhere in the back of Wufei's mind, an image of a younger Duo Maxwell popped up, flapping his arms at a retreating enemy unit and squawking like a chicken. A uniquely Duo gesture, and one he did not plan to emulate, but he could tell by the darkening flush in Peacecraft's cheeks that he'd understood the implied insult exactly as Wufei had intended.  
  
"I have no wish to harm you, little Chang," Peacecraft rasped.   
  
"You needn't concern yourself in that regard, I assure you," Wufei shot back, letting the other man see his amusement at such an idea.  
  
"Perhaps another time," Peacecraft growled. Turning his back on Wufei, he went to the lat machine and began his reps.   
  
Wufei leaned at ease on his staff. "You should speak to your dietician, as well. Those pants are looking a bit tight in the back."  
  
Peacecraft pretended to ignore him, but Wufei saw him stiffen, and the way he made a conscious effort to square his shoulders.   
  
Yes, the gauntlet had been thrown down, and Peacecraft knew it. The balance of power had shifted. Peacecraft had known about Relena having final say in who was in charge of him. Now he knew that his "little Chang" knew it, too.  
  
Suddenly this assignment seemed rather more interesting.


	32. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

October first.  
  
During the war Duo had been able to tell himself what time to wake up. He still could, which was why for once he was awake before Heero. The clock on the nightstand told him it was six, but it was still dark. The shifts in Earth daylight hours were tricky things, and depended on where on this ball of dirt you happened to be at any given time of year. The autumn days had shortened noticeably just in the time they'd been on the Cape.  
  
That was OK, though. What he wanted didn't need any light. Wrapped around Heero, he could tell by the gentle rise and fall of the chest under his cheek that Heero was still deep in dreamland. Duo ran his hand lightly across Heero's bare chest, loving the feel of the ribs and muscle under that smooth, silken skin. He wouldn't have minded some chest hair, but he didn't need it, either. No, his boyfriend was smooth and silky all the way down to that neat little patch of darkest hair around the base of his cock. Duo ran his fingers lightly through those curls, then brought his fingers up to his nose and inhaled the rich male musk that was Heero's own natural signature scent. Turning his head a little, he did the same with the downy tuft of hair in Heero's armpit. Musk and spice and the ocean tang of sweat.  
  
Duo's cock was up and ready; Heero's still lay plump and limp against Duo's thigh where it lay over Heero's. Lucky for him Heero had turned out to be OK with snuggling. Try as he might to stay on his side of any bed, Duo always ended up wrapped around him like a clinging vine. He inhaled appreciatively again. He'd shared his soaps and shampoos and deodorants with him in Madrid, but Heero had come up with some odd theory about how they shouldn't smell like each other. Anyone who knew anything about colognes and perfumes could have told him that no scent smelled quite the same on different people. It had something to do with body chemistry, apparently. But Heero had his own ideas and had bought himself some new toiletries. Now his hair smelled like herbs and his armpits smelled like spice, but that was just fine. Underneath it all, he smelled like himself and that was pure pheromones to Duo.  
  
Heero stirred slightly as Duo slipped down in the bed and took that soft, warm cock in his mouth, gently sucking and licking. He loved this, too, the rare treat of making Heero hard with his mouth. Usually the job was done long before he ever made contact. Heero was such a clean freak, he tasted good even first thing in the morning, just a little saltier and a lot muskier than right after a bath. Bathing was over rated.  
  
Heero was coming around now. He sighed as Duo's mouth worked, then rumbled deep in his chest. "Mmmmmmmm! Nice. Sleepy . . ."  
  
"Sleep, baby. I'm just playing with you."  
  
Of course Heero would do no such thing. But he stayed still and relaxed, not moving at all at first except to rest his hand lightly on the back of Duo's head. His cock swelled and lengthened against Duo's tongue and he shifted his head a little to accommodate its size. Wonderful size! he amended, swirling the flat of his tongue against the underside of it, enjoying the press of the engorged head against his palate. He shifted a little more and deep throated him.  
  
Still half asleep, Heero curled his fingers in Duo's hair. "Yeah, so gooooood! Mmmmph! Mmmmmmmmmmm."  
  
"Mmmmmmmmmmmm," Duo echoed, letting him feel the vibration in his throat through his cock.  
  
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"  
  
Duo hummed some more, but kept it gentle and playful, letting Heero float on this early morning pleasuring. He hadn't done this before. This early morning wake up was one of Quatre's specialties, he happened to know, and from the noises he'd heard coming out of their bedroom, Trowa really appreciated this kind of attention.  
  
So did Heero. The fingers in Duo's hair flexed slowly and those hips were rising and falling now, working his erection between Duo's lips, seeking out more attention from his tongue.  
  
"Ahhhhh Duo! Love you. Love that--! What you're doing . . .So good. Sooooo . . ."  
  
Duo stroked a hand up Heero's thigh to his balls. Heero moaned softly and spread his legs, inviting further caresses. Duo smiled around his mouthful of cock, knowing what that signal meant. He cupped and caressed the heavy, hot sac for a while, then ran his fingers down the crease between thigh and ass. Heero shivered and Duo kept it up for a few more minutes, until Heero moaned again and pulled the leg Duo wasn't draped across back and up, bending his knee and moving his foot out to give Duo maximum access.  
  
Another advantage of Heero's obsessive personal cleanliness was that Duo didn't mind rimming him in the morning. Another first, another thing Duo had never done for anyone else, ever. With a final long lick, he moved his mouth down to Heero's exposed cleft and took over with his hand on his dick. As many people had observed-- more people than Duo really cared to admit to now-- he was phenomenally good at doing two things at once. He stroked the erection slowly but steadily, working his loose fist up and down, making sure he brushed the sensitive underside of the head each time. Meanwhile his tongue was busy tickling way at that tight, puckered little button below and Heero was already vibrating under him.  
  
Duo had every intention of making Heero come just like this, but suddenly the hand in his hair tightened, gently (for Heero anyway) tugging his head up and making his body follow until Duo was lying between his legs. Dawn was happening outside. There was just enough light for Duo to see how incredibly, fuckably beautiful Heero looked as he gazed up at him under half open lids and whispered, "Want you in me."  
  
That hadn't been part of the plan, but who was Duo Maxwell to argue with such a nice invitation? Reaching under his pillow, he found the lube and coated his fingers. Then, kneeling between those long, loosely splayed thighs, he worked one finger, then two and three into that tight passage. Heero was still totally relaxed, probably using some secret super training method to stay that way, which made Duo's job all that much easier. He'd only been on top three times before, and Heero was still virgin tight, but he took this kind of treatment well and really got off on it when he was in the right mood.  
  
Which he sure as hell was now, as he reached down and pulled Duo's hand away, then used that same hand and arm to pull Duo back into position between his legs.  
  
"OK, OK! I copy." Duo whispered, and slipped his hands under Heero's knees, pulling them over his shoulders. Prepped and relaxed and willing as Heero was, Duo's cock slid in effortlessly, all the way in and he gasped. Every time he was in Heero it felt like the first time on so many good and wonderful levels. And every time it was different. Heero had never been so still under him as he was right now, but it wasn't passive or boring, just receptive.  
  
"Slow and easy," Heero whispered, eyes still closed, head thrown back against the pillow. Duo wanted to kiss him, but Heero had a "no kissing after rimming" rule, too, so instead he ran his hands down those smooth, hard thighs and up that hard, rippling belly to tease Heero's nipples. Oh yeah, he liked that! Just like the way he liked how Duo's cock knew how to home in on that supersensitive little prostate of his as he rocked in and out, in and out.  
  
Heero gasped, but his eyes stayed shut as he caught Duo's left hand and brought it to his mouth, then sucked all four fingers at once.  
  
Duo groaned as the wet velvet caress of Heero's tongue telegraphed straight to his cock. 'Slow and easy' wasn't so easy to maintain as his brain caught fire. 'Fuck Heero into the mattress' seemed like a better idea, but he stayed in control and felt the sensations intensify. Who knew restraint could be so hot? But it was. Heero had taught him that, or at least they'd discovered it together. Heero had done this slow and easy to him once for nearly an hour, until Duo was a quivering, moaning, cum-covered mess under him. Not the best sort of memory for self-restraint, but a hot one. Duo was starting to shake and quiver, too, as the rolling thunder of a major orgasm started to build just behind his balls.  
  
Heero knew exactly what was going on. Taking Duo's wet fingers out of his mouth, he moved them down to his rock hard erection and wrapped them around himself, covering Duo's hand with his own and stroking.  
  
At this point it became highly debatable who was "top" and who was "bottom". Terms like that seemed pretty damn silly these days. It didn't matter who was putting what where, not one bit. It was always the two of them doing each other, fully and lovingly and so damn well Duo felt like a virgin again himself, feeling things for the first time.  
  
Right now he was feeling Heero's tight, smooth, slicked inner passage flexing around his cock, and with that, the mind blowingly hot experience of Heero's cock in his hand, and Heero's big strong hand locked over his, controlling the speed and pressure and grip . . . .  
  
He heard Heero's breathing change to short, hard pants, felt the quiver and thrust of the pelvis underneath him, felt the first hot spurt over his fingers and he was gone, anchored deep in Heero's strength and heat and tightness even as he felt that bright, dizzying sensation he called "flying". If orgasms had a color this one was a rainbow and it was Duo the so-called seducer doing the screaming and bucking now, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy as he came forever.  
  
Almost forever. Then he was collapsing down against a hard, hot chest, and another heart was hammering against his and strong arms were locked around him, rolling him onto his side to curl up against his lover, as cradled and sheltered as if he was the one who'd just gotten so thoroughly and passionately fucked.  
  
Heero' breath was harsh against his forehead, then Duo heard a single, wondering, "Wow!" and Duo knew he was buzzing and tingling and jangling all over, too, just like Duo was. Happy as he was with all this, falling back to sleep was not part of his plan. Lucky for him, Heero was out like a light again, if he'd ever actually woken up fully at all. Duo waited until the labored breathing evened out and quieted, then snuck out of bed and the bedroom as stealthily as only he could, carrying his clothes with him.  
  
It was time for Phase Two.  
  
+  
  
A dark curving line in the damp sand caught Duo's eye and he pounced happily, carefully digging out the razor clam shell and laying it in his collection basket. It was whole and unbroken, both halves still joined by the dried hinge membrane. That should do it.  
  
He'd gleaned quite a collection over the past few weeks: quahogs, blue mussel, pocket limpets and Chinaman's hats, whelks and stripped periwinkles of all different sizes, scallop shells, a few rare sand dollars, round, beaded shells of sea urchins, and lots and lots of moon shells. Duo especially liked those; they looked like the silver shell on one of the bracelets Heero had given him. He wore that and the Shiva's Eye necklace most of the time now.  
  
Most days Heero liked to help him hunt and clean them. Half the front porch floor was covered in shells, laid out by type on sheets of newspaper. As far as Heero knew, Duo just liked to collect nature junk: shells, interesting stones, nutshells. Heero didn't know about the secret project hidden in a box in the closet of the studio. At least Duo didn't think he did. At the moment, his lover was still asleep in their tangled sheets, the victim of Duo's dawn sex raid. Duo grinned to himself as he picked up and discarded a broken mussel shell; hey, sometimes a guy just had to have it, right? And man oh man, did Heero love to give it!  
  
Duo was pretty sure Heero didn't realize that waking up with Duo's lips around his cock was his first present of the day. Heero didn't even know yet that this was a special day. That was OK. It was supposed to be a surprise, the way their first official date had been a surprise for him.  
  
For once, Duo had been glad a few photographers caught up with them at dinner and over at Ma Rainey's that night, since he'd had no camera himself. The club had taken pictures, too, and Duo had bought prints of all of them, with copies for Tro and Kat. He'd also tracked down the guy who'd caught them kissing in Madrid. Most of these pictures were carefully mounted in a large red scrapbook Heero insisted on buying during a day trip to Martha's Vineyard. He'd bought a camera, too, and they'd already filled eight pages with snapshots of each other. That sort of thing seemed really important to Heero, preserving memories in photographs and sketches. Duo understood; he was making up time for the first lost seventeen years of his life. Duo did the same thing with his collections, and with dates.  
  
They both had a birthday now, one chosen by them to be remembered and celebrated. They ignored the bogus dates on the fake IDs forged for them during Operation Meteor. With their usual warped humor, the old fucks who'd trained them had chosen January first for Heero, February second for Duo, March third for Trowa. Quatre knew his real birthday, of course. It was September 26, but his war records said April fourth. Wufei must have known his birth date, too, but the subject had never come up and May fifth was still the date given on his Preventer ID.  
  
But from now on and forever, as Duo had made known by email to all their friends, his official birthday was September nineteenth, because that was the day Heero had given him the necklace and said "Happy Birthday" to him for the first time. He'd suggested that Heero choose the day he'd given him the jacket in Madrid for his, but after some consideration Heero had chosen January eighth instead. Duo didn't see the significance, until Heero pointed out that that was the date when he and Duo had first met on that pier, fighting over Relena. The fact that Duo had shot him didn't seem to matter, so long as he promised not to make a tradition of it.  
  
So, they had birthdays and a photo album together, and some good shared memories to balance off the bad ones. They had shared a bed, and lots of sex, but they also knew each other's favorite foods and where the other one was most ticklish and what little every day habits annoyed the other guy. Duo got antsy if Heero locked himself away in the computer for more than a couple of hours at a time. Heero insisted hair be cleaned from the tub drain in a daily basis. Duo would keep the radio or television on 24/7 if it was up to him; Heero liked some quiet times. During work outs Duo lost track of his reps if he didn't count out loud. Heero got distracted and lost track of his own when Duo did. Heero hadn't laughed or minded or even pointed out the wasted expense when Duo confessed he needed the bathroom or hallway light left on at night, though after a while, Duo found he didn't need it after all, most nights, as long as Heero was there to wrap himself around. Little things like that needed to be worked out but weren't worth fighting over. They didn't fight.  
  
As of today, they would have another date on the calendar to remember as their own. Just like normal people.  
  
Back at the house, he left the collecting basket on the porch and went inside with the razor clam shell. He paused at the bottom of the stairs; no sound of footsteps or water running. Nothing from the kitchen or workout room either, and no smell of coffee. If Heero was awake, he'd have appeared by now.  
  
All clear. Proceed with mission.  
  
Duo went into the studio and locked the door. A dozen masks in various stages of completion lay spread out on a table by the door, and the life casts Duo had made of his and Heero's faces. As far as Heero knew, they were for masks to be worn in New Orleans at Halloween with Tro and Kat. It hadn't been easy but he'd managed to get the whole Secret Project done without getting caught, mostly thanks to Heero's net surfing habit.  
  
Duo pulled the box from its hiding place and lifted out the special mask. Positioning it on the worktable, he broke the razor clam shells apart and glued them into place with quick drying glue. A few touches of gold paint and that was it. He stepped back, admiring his work. It was done.  
  
He'd called old Jasper at the circus for advice when he first had the inspiration last week. What Jasper didn't know about mask making didn't need to be known. On his recommendation, Duo had formed the base mask out of thick paper mache rather than leather. It didn't matter, because it didn't show. He'd used the life cast of his own face for it, and the features were still clear, even under the elaborate mosaic of seashells he'd covered it with. Graduated arcs of periwinkles formed the eyebrows. Matched sand dollars adorned the cheekbones and long earrings of threaded whelks and scallop shells hung from the sides. Six long looping strands of tiny polished moon shells hung from the underside of the mask like necklaces. Those had been a bitch to do; he'd broken as many as he'd finished, cutting holes to string them with a tiny drill bit. Razor clams, sea urchin shells, and sand dollars decorated in gold formed a sort of crown at the top above the quahog mosaic of the forehead, and the whole thing was surrounded by a wild mane of "hair" made from fine dry purple seaweed and bits of bright green eelgrass.  
  
The eyes and lips had been the hardest to figure out. He'd solved the former by making it a true mask and cutting out the eyeholes and outlining the holes with kohl colored lines, like eyeliner. The lips had been the worst, and he'd tried and discarded a lot of ideas before simply casting his own in plaster and painting them pink. The contrast between the realistic, rather pouty mouth and the empty eyeholes was a little spooky, but there was no time to come up with a better idea. The damn thing weighed close to ten pounds, but it wasn't meant to be worn.  
  
Using the Loose Threads box, tissue paper and ribbon his silk jeans had come in, he wrapped the mask and took it and another, smaller gift box to the kitchen, placing them by Heero's place at the table.  
  
Still no sound from upstairs. Duo quickly put together the coffee and pancake batter and got the vase of red and pink roses from its hiding place under the porch. Good thing there hadn't been a frost. That went by Heero's plate, too.  
  
With the final preparations complete, he showered quickly in the downstairs bathroom and wrapped himself in the red and blue silk robe Heero had somehow conned Hector at the Sanque embassy into sending him. The guy must have been a romantic himself, because he'd somehow known about the brown and black Shantung silk kimono Heero had worn while they were there, and had sent that along, too.  
  
Duo fastened the necklace around his neck, put on a couple of the shell bracelets, and headed upstairs. If all went according to plan this was all the clothing he was going to need until they went out for dinner and a movie tonight; another real dating experience Heero had never had.  
  
The bedroom still reeked nicely of sex. Heero opened one blue eye as Duo sidled into the room. He was sprawled naked in the middle of the bed, sheet tangled around one leg, cock draped limp and still rosy over his thigh. With his dark hair tousled against the pillow like that and those sleepy bedroom eyes open now and tracking Duo like a lion watching an antelope, Duo decided breakfast had a better chance of not turning into lunch if he stayed by the door.  
  
"Jeeze, Yuy, when did you get to be such a lazy bastard?" he demanded, grinning as he twirled the end of his braid in one hand.  
  
"Since you gave me such a good reason to stay in bed," Heero yawned, stretching in what looked like deliberately tempting manner. Holding out his hand, he gave Duo a "look" and Duo's knees and resolve wobbled. "It's not even nine yet. Come back to bed."  
  
Velvet and sandpaper, that morning voice. And Duo damn near obeyed it, too, but somehow he managed instead to snag Heero's robe off its hook and toss it to him. "C'mon downstairs, babe. Got something I think you should see." Fighting every ounce of testosterone currently raging through his veins, he retreated before Heero could put up an argument.  
  
He managed to get coffee poured for both of them without burning himself just as Heero appeared still yawning in the doorway. The sight of the packages and flowers woke him up all the way. He looked curious, and pleased, but also a little taken aback. "What's this? I thought we said my birthday was--"  
  
"Nope, not yer birthday. Happy Anniversary, baby!"  
  
Heero blinked. "Anniversary?"  
  
"I'll forgive you for not remembering this year, but you better mark it on the calendar. The way I understand it, the person who remembers has to get mad at the person who forgets and make him sleep on the couch."  
  
Heero still wasn't following. "Anniversary?"  
  
"Well, this time it's actually more the anniversary of the anniversary. It's October first."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"One month ago today--September first?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Nope, he wasn't getting it. "One month ago today, I got an email from you, telling me that you were still alive." Duo had to pause and swallow around the lump that had risen in his throat. "One month ago today, I decided it was actually worth staying alive myself. And it's the day--" Damn it, he *wasn't* going to fucking cry! Heero came to him and Duo buried his face in the front of his robe. Heero's arms around Duo helped. The world went still and peaceful again. "That's the day I fell in love with you for real. I know you don't remember much that day. You were still so sick---"  
  
Heero cupped Duo's chin and raised his face to stroke his cheek. "You climbed into bed with me the minute you saw me. I do remember that much. I guess it was a sign. September first. I will make a note of that, for future celebrations." He glanced at the roses and the package and a small frown of concern began to form.  
  
"Don't say it!" Duo warned. "We'll get the whole gift giving thing coordinated one of these days. Just consider this my turn to surprise you."  
  
Heero sat down and examined the boxes. "Loose Threads?"  
  
"Uh, no actually." Duo was suddenly a little nervous. What if Heero didn't get this, either? What if he was disappointed with a couple of stupid handmade gifts after the chunk of change he'd dropped on Duo's surprise? He was going to feel like such a total fucking idiot!"  
  
Heero opened the smaller box and a smile of genuine delight lit his face as he lifted out the framed print of him kissing Duo on the steps of the Madrid hospital. "Oh! Oh, Duo, I'm so glad you found this!"  
  
Duo let out a small sigh of relief. The picture had been a good bet. Heero was damned sentimental when it came to things like that, as the album attested. That one had been easy.  
  
He tensed again, though, as Heero opened the big box and lifted the tissue paper aside. He just sat and stared at the contents, then his face lit up with a grin even total strangers would have recognized. Blind total strangers! He lifted the mask out with incredible care, then d held it up by the picture wire installed in the back. The moon snail necklaces rattled and swung against his wrist. "A mermaid! No, wait. It's you! This is my mermaid!"  
  
Duo fell back in his chair, relieved. "Yeah, exactly! You don't think it's too weird?"  
  
"Weird? It's amazing! It's--It's art! We can hang it up, right?" He checked the wire in back and saw the inscription Duo had written there. The grin went wider than ever as he read it aloud. "'To Heero the mermaid-lover, from his mermaid lover. Love you, love you, love you forever. Love, Duo.'" He looked up at Duo and chuckled, but there was a suspicious glimmer along his lower lids. "And you even put in those x's and o's."  
  
"Figured it could be like a tradition or something," Duo mumbled, embarrassed but pleased beyond telling at his lover's reaction. Heero was no actor. This was real joy.  
  
Heero looked around the kitchen, then got up and went out to the living room, still carrying the mask. He cast around here for a moment, then found a spot he liked near the fireplace. Taking down the picture that hung there, he put up the mask in its place. "Amazing!" Turning, he grabbed Duo in a bone-crushing hug; the workouts were working. "No one ever made me anything before, and nothing like this!" He pulled back and kissed Duo hard. "I can't believe you did something like this just for me! All your masks are really good, Duo. Really good. But this?" Lost for words, he shook his head.  
  
Duo snorted as pulled him back to the kitchen. "It's just something I picked up, working around the circus. Glad you like it so much, though."  
  
"No, really. I ran across some sites online the other day, people who make masks like those leather ones for a living. A lot of what I saw wasn't nearly as good as yours."  
  
Duo blushed. "Thanks, Heero. It's not a bad idea. And it meets my baseline criteria."  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"Not killing anyone!"  
  
+  
  
A few days later Quatre and Trowa were telling him the thing as Duo held up their masks to the vid phone for them to see. The pair for "Meld" he'd painted to look like two halves of the same silver, blue, and green mask, with the other half black except for and exaggerated silver outline around the eye. Unsure what the exact nature of "Passages" was going to be, he'd made several of the smaller visor masks with different arrangements of color and eye design. Trowa nodded, saying only that they were all good. The rest, Trowa's grim "Heavyarms" mask and a few others for various other cast members involved in the acts, were all given warm approval.  
  
Heero paused unnoticed in the studio doorway, enjoying Duo's reaction to the praise as he took notes for a few final adjustments and design changes. The actual fittings would have to wait until Trowa and Quatre arrived next week. Leaving him to it, Heero headed out for a run.  
  
+  
  
Duo waited until he saw Heero disappear down the beach, then sighed. "So, what do you guys want to do?"  
  
"Haven't you talked to Heero about it?" Quatre asked.  
  
Duo nibbled absently at the end of his braid. "No, it hasn't come up. I mean, I've told him stuff about us, but I don't think he really understands. Hell, I don't know if I understand!"  
  
Trowa leaned in closer to the monitor. "It's not a problem, Duo."  
  
But Duo could see Kat's face, just behind Trowa and his expression told a different story. But he caught Duo's eye and shook his head slightly, warning him off the subject."  
  
"Hey, we'll figure it out when you get here, OK?" he said, keeping it light as Quatre mouthed 'email' behind Trowa's back. "We're the Gundam Boys, remember? No rules for us!"  
  
"Rules? We don't need no stinking rules!" Quatre laughed, but the motto from their wilder days rang a little hollow.  
  
Duo had done a pretty good job of not thinking about what the arrangements would be, once the other two arrived. Now he didn't have much choice. Decisions needed to be made and it looked like they were leavening it up to him to make them. Only he didn't know any more than they did what the right thing to do was.


	33. Cramped Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Quatre twisted the hot water tap in the shower. Nothing happened. He tried the cold tap. That worked, but only if you counted a tepid trickle that alternately hissed and spat as a shower. Banging noises under his feet told him there was air in the pipes again.   
  
"Damn!" Bad enough that the tiny bathroom was hardly large enough to turn around in, or that the mildew colony behind the toilet was regrouping just days after Trowa had nearly asphyxiated himself bleaching it to oblivion. Again. Now even Trowa's usual lightning fast evening wash had fucked up the water supply.  
  
"Trowa!" It was only frustration that made him raise his voice. He knew his mate was stretched out naked on the platform bed a few scant yards away, on the other side of the tie-dyed curtain that served as a door between the two rooms.   
  
"Oy, mi corazon?" That was Trowa's sex voice. He could roll the endearments of a dozen languages around on his tongue like fine wine when he was feeling sexy, which for Trowa was most of the time. Not that this was a problem between them, of course. Not usually.   
  
Quatre sighed, caught between the usual instant arousal and frustration. They really needed to talk about Duo and the Heero thing, but Trowa tended not to pay attention too well in this mood. When Trowa got all multi-lingual on him, a fun night was in the offing. He was broadcasting lust, too, and Quatre had to focus on the mundane problem in front of him to keep himself from just surrendering and racing for the bed.   
  
"Trowa, the plumbing's fucked up again!"   
  
"I'll fix it in the morning, mon amor."  
  
"No way. You fixed it last time and now I'm taking a cold shower. I'm calling a plumber."  
  
"That's fine. Come to bed, Quatrito!"   
  
Still that lazy come and get it tone. He was probably stroking himself now . . . Don't think about long fingers around hard flesh. Don't think about how the gold wedding ring lifted from that flat chest when the nipple it pierced went hard under his fingers or tongue. Don't think about the way those black armband tattoos moved over flexing muscle . . .   
  
Yeah, he'd stop thinking those thoughts, right after he punctured both eardrums with an ice pick. No, think about something else, distract the crafty, naked, tattooed man stalking him with that voice. "The mildew is growing back. It's really disgusting."   
  
"Vene, bellllla!" There was just no such thing as a mood breaker with Trowa when he was like this.  
  
Think plumbing. Think faulty atmospherics and the fact that they could smell the lion cages from the grimy little kitchen window at the front of the trailer. Quatre stepped under what spray there was to wash off the coating of depilatory gel he'd unwisely smeared all over himself before checking the state of the water pressure. "I want a real house, Trowa!" he called out. "With real walls and actual doors you can close and plumbing that works. And a tub. A really, really big tub. Room for six, minimum, Trowa!"  
  
"We'll get a house, mon petit chou. Tomorrow I'll get you a house. We'll bathe elephants together in the tub. But tonight, mon petit--l'amour!" He drew the r out like warm taffy.  
  
"Don't tease!"  
  
"Sweetie, liebchen, boychik, I've told you a million times, if you want a house we'll get a house! Parakolo, meli, come to bed and we'll talk about it."   
  
Yeah, right. That sexy purr and all the pet names told him Trowa's mind was definitely _not_ on their housing arrangements. He could ask Trowa to conquer Antigua for him right now and the answer would be yes. He'd never met anyone so incredibly intelligent who also spent so much time thinking with his dick.  
  
All the same, Quatre knew Trowa meant it when he said they could move any time. Trowa didn't care where he lived, so long as he could work. Trowa was a true bohemian, a natural gypsy. Growing up with the mercenaries, never staying in one place or putting down any roots, owning no more than he could carry and losing most of it on a regular basis with the shift of battle, he never developed a need for possessions or security; just for the people he let into his walled-off heart, and the art that let him express it. He could probably live just as happily stark naked in a cardboard box, so long as Quatre was with him and he was in walking distance of the workshop and practice ring. He loved Quatre, his friends, and the circus. Anything beyond that was gravy, as far as Trowa Barton was concerned.  
  
'Do I _really_ want a house?' Quatre wondered, lathering up with the water off with true colonial efficiency. He hadn't thought so for a long time, not since he'd left home, really. And mostly he'd loved living here in this doublewide tin can beside the circus training complex. The funny thing was, cramped as it was, the place seemed kind of empty these past few weeks, without Duo around.  
  
They missed that braided head case, missed having him in their bed and in their lives, crowded as it had been on both accounts with him around. He'd only lived full time with them this past six months or so, but he'd been a frequent, if erratic guest before that: buddy, confidant, their partner in mischief.   
  
And their responsibility, too. How many times had they bailed him out or checked him in to some hospital? How many nights had they stayed up, comforting him, binding his wounds, holding his head while he puked his guts and his misery out after some binge? Quatre hadn't dared examine too closely the relief he'd felt a week ago, reading that letter informing them that Duo had added Heero as official next of kin, but not taken them off that list. So legally, and in Duo's mind apparently, they'd gained a family member, not lost one. And that sort of begged the housing question. Not that he really thought Duo would move back in here with them, but there was still a connection.  
  
In spite of the emotional circumstances, it had been really nice when they'd stayed in his grandmother's spacious cottage on Cape Cod last spring, enjoying the elbow room and the views and the privacy--especially the privacy! He really would like a big bed and a big tub to share _every_ night, with whoever they wanted, not just on special occasions. And, on a more personal level, he wanted to be able to have sex any old way he and Trowa wanted to, without Duo or Cathy or the dog act lady in the trailer next door snickering at them the next day. He wanted--he bumped his hip on the soap dish for the millionth time as he bent to rinse his hair. Fuck, he wanted a shower where that didn't happen every damn time! He was getting a permanent bruise.  
  
There were some nice houses in the Greek Division over on Farside. He wondered if Tro would mind taking the tube to work. There were places with balconies and roof gardens over there, and a real park with grass and a pond and flowers. You could almost pretend you were Earth-side over there, if you didn't look up. Here in Industrial level 3, it was all warehouses and stransteel and exposed ducts and panels.   
  
Finished at last, he dried off and padded back to the bed. "Do you ever miss being on Earth, Tro?" he asked, surrendering at last, letting Trowa pull him down and climb on top of him. To his surprise, a spark of interest surfaced in those lust-clouded green eyes looking down at him. Trowa actually paused in his groping and considered the question.  
  
"Yeah, I do. Want a house there, meu querido?"  
  
"How will we work?"  
  
Trowa gave him a grin and a shrug, like always. "We'll figure something out, mio dolce. Maybe in New Orleans? You're gonna love the place I rented for us in the French Quarter! Genuine pre-colony Creole. No prefab or faux anything. A real garden court with high walls and cast iron fences and a mossy old fountain." His voice had gradually dropped a full octave, right down to 'irresistibly hot' as he nuzzled his way down Quatre's neck and chest to flick the wedding ring with his tongue. "I am going to feed you oysters on the half shell and file gumbo and absinthe and pralines and candied pecans-"  
  
Quatre couldn't suppress a giggle as Trowa's tongue and busy lips tickled across his stomach.   
  
Trowa paused long enough in his lustful plans to envelop Quatre's erection with his mouth and gave it a languorous tongue bath. "Mmmmmm, yes, more oysters and more absinthe, and then, when you're just too full and sleepy to get away, I'm going to ravish you under a bougainvillea arbor, sweet morsel mine. And maybe right out in the middle of Bourbon Street, too, during the Halloween parades."  
  
Quatre gasped, beyond commenting at the moment. None of those were idle threats, a fact he was incredibly glad of.  
  
"But I digress." Trowa paused with a wicked, teasing grin. "Houses, right? Heading back Earth-side got you thinking?"  
  
Focus, 04! Seize the moment!   
  
Quatre ran his fingers along the fine contours of Trowa's throat and chest with his fingers and traced those black armbands. "Guess so. I dunno. Thinking about Duo, too. And-well, you know."  
  
The temperature in the stuffy little bedroom seemed to drop several degrees as Trowa rolled off onto his back and threw an arm across his eyes. "I told you, Kat, it's not a problem!" That flat guarded tone it had taken Quatre so long to get past back in the war days.   
  
Abort mission. Moment lost. He could almost hear the doors slamming shut in Trowa's head. "Trowa?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Baby? Lover?"  
  
Still nothing.  
  
Quatre sat up and looked at his husband sadly for a moment, then reached out tentatively with his mind and heart.  
  
//SadnessfearshameDuolustsadlongingHeeroSHAMEangersad . . .//  
  
"Stop it, Quatre."   
  
"Then talk to me, baby."  
  
"There's nothing to say. They're together, the way they should be. Both of them. It's not their fault I happen to be a little fucked in the head. It's not anyone's fault except-"  
  
Quatre placed two gentle, ink-stained fingers across those full, down turned lips. "Not your fault, either, mi corazon. The heart's got a mind of its own."  
  
Trowa shook his head slowly, arm still across his face. "Maybe we shouldn't go. Maybe we should just meet them in New Orleans. Or you could go, on your own."  
  
"The fittings."  
  
"They could fly in a few days early."  
  
"With all Duo's equipment? Look at me, baby. C'mon, come out."  
  
Trowa grudgingly lowered his arm, letting Quatre see the misery in his eyes. Reaching for Quatre's hand, he pressed it over his heart. "Take it away, will you?" he whispered. "Just take it out so I don't have to feel it."  
  
Quatre pulled him up into his arms, pressing Trowa's ear to his chest, letting him hear his heartbeat. "You know it doesn't work that way. I can't fix this. I would if I could, because I don't want this up on the wire with you."   
  
Quatre stopped before his own fears could come spilling out. It was hard enough to hold onto the mindset that let him watch his lover up there in the air every day, throwing himself against gravity with no net below. On a good day it took an effort. He'd seen what emotional distractions could do to Trowa. If he thought avoiding the issue, and their friends, would keep Trowa safe, then maybe he'd consider it, but he already knew better. Those dark feelings and confused longings were always going to be there, until Trowa and Heero and maybe Duo worked things out.  
  
Trowa's arms encircled his waist, holding him. Holding on tight. "I love you!"  
  
"I know that. I just wish you could read me back, so you could feel how much I understand."  
  
"Me, too, mi corazon. Me, too." And then he was pressing Quatre back on the bed and kissing him all over and driving away all the dark thoughts with the caresses only Trowa could give him. And when he took him a little while later, still prone on the bed, Quatre wrapped his legs around him, and his arms, blindly tracing the tattoo on his lover's back and the Arabic lettering Trowa had had threaded into the colorful design, the words only the two of them knew how to find in the pattern.   
  
_Quatre, my lover, my own, read this. My heart is yours forever._


	34. E-Mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_To: Wing@privatesky.net_  
 _From: Sandrock@privatesky.net_  
 _06 October 198_  
 _010:05 pm EST_  
  
  
_Are you online? Is this still a 100% secure op line?_  
  
_\----_  
  
_To: Wing@privatesky.net_  
 _From: Sandrock@privatesky.net_  
 _06 October 198_  
 _010:20 pm EST_  
  
  
_Just checking in. Really need to talk to you. E-mail if you get this in the next three hours. I'll keep checking._  
  
_\----_  
  
_To: Sandrock@privatesky.net_  
 _From: Wing@privatesky.net_  
 _07 October 198_  
 _012:15 am EST_  
  
  
_Online now. Affirmative on security._  
  
_Copy?_  
  
_\----_  
  
_To: Wing@privatesky.net_  
 _From: Sandrock@privatesky.net_  
 _07 October 198_  
 _012:16 am EST_  
  
  
_We need to talk. This seems the best way to do it privately. Do you have some time now? Your eyes only._  
  
_\----_  
  
_To: Sandrock@privatesky.net_  
 _From: Wing@privatesky.net_  
 _07 October 198_  
 _012:17 am EST_  
  
  
_Affirmative to all. 02 asleep. Open LiveChat?_  
  
_\----_  
  
  
_To: Wing@privatesky.net_  
 _From: Sandrock@privatesky.net_  
 _07 October 198_  
 _012:17 am EST_  
  
  
_Copy that. Opening chat window now._  
  
_+_  
  
**___INITIATE LIVECHAT TRANSMISSION__ 07/10/98 12:18 AM EST____**  
  
_Sandrock: I'm here._  
  
_Wing: What's wrong?_  
  
_Sandrock: T very agitated about seeing you next week. How's D?_  
  
_Wing: Increasingly agitated since you spoke the other day. He's not talking about it. I'm concerned. What's going on? Was going to call you._  
  
_Sandrock: Biting his nails and chewing on his hair?_  
  
_Wing: Affirmative._  
  
_Sandrock: Not good. Is he taking his meds?_  
  
_Sandrock: Repeat. Taking his meds?_  
  
_Sandrock: Are you there?_  
  
_Sandrock: Are you there, Wing? Connection is open on my end._  
  
_Wing: Counted his meds. He's missed three doses. I should have been checking, but he'd been doing so well. I was careless, lost focus. Will not make that mistake again._  
  
_Sandrock: He's hitting a downturn. Seen it before, **MANY** times! Keep a careful eye on him. Odd behavior?_  
  
_Wing: Much of his behavior is odd by common standards. Specify._  
  
_Sandrock: Different from how he acts when you're not worried about him. Different from "good" by GB standards._  
  
_Wing: GB?_  
  
_Sandrock: Gundam Boy. Would you rather do this by phone?_  
  
_Wing: No, he might wake up. Recent changes in behavior which concern me: Restless sleep pattern. Needs light left on in bathroom and hallway at night. Waking late at night and working in studio with radio playing loudly. Separation anxiety especially seems worse._  
  
_Sandrock: Separation anxiety? That's new._  
  
_Wing: Dr. B says it is directly related to relationship with me. Perhaps undiagnosed before my return._  
  
_Wing: Copy?_  
  
_Sandrock: Sorry. Thinking. Irritable? Rude?_  
  
_Wing: Asking wrong person._  
  
_Sandrock: Did you just make a joke??? LOL!_  
  
_Wing: He is sometimes quiet, says he wants time to self, but quickly seeks me out again. Sep. Anx._  
  
_Sandrock: I must ask a more personal question. May I?_  
  
_Wing: Ask._  
  
_Sandrock: Has he asked you to spank him?_  
  
_Wing: What is your purpose in asking this?_  
  
_Sandrock: That's a yes?_  
  
_Wing: Very personal question._  
  
_Sandrock: I'm sorry, Heero, but it's a very significant emotional indicator with him. It means he's really low and scared. '_  
  
_Wing: Precipitated such interaction once before, day we left you two in Madrid._  
  
_Sandrock: Precipitated?_  
  
_Wing: Acted out. Goaded me._  
  
_Sandrock: Being "naughty"?_  
  
_Wing: Yes._  
  
_Sandrock: Have you talked about that with him or Dr. B?_  
  
_Wing: No._  
  
_Sandrock: Why not?_  
  
_Sandrock: Wing?_  
  
_Sandrock: I'm waiting. Important!_  
  
_Wing: He pushed until I lost control. I am not happy with myself over it._  
  
_Sandrock: Lost control?! What happened??_  
  
_Wing: Spanking and sex. He was happy afterwards. Unharmed._  
  
_Sandrock: Sorry._  
  
_Wing: No further "acting out" after that. None now._  
  
_Sandrock: He will. Or you just haven't noticed or recognized it as such. What did he do the last time?_  
  
_Wing: Insisted on drinking when I told him not to. Told me to make him stop._  
  
_Wing: Could not taking his meds be "acting up"?_  
  
_Sandrock: Yes, absolutely._  
  
_Wing: Loud radio at night could be, too. But he turned it off when I asked him to._  
  
_Sandrock: These things build up with him._  
  
_Wing: Advise, please! I must be better prepared._  
  
_Sandrock: Offer before he demands._  
  
_Wing: ???_  
  
_Sandrock: He uses restraint and pain as a release, and a security thing. Can't explain it, just know how it works. T and I both enjoy it sometimes, too, but don't have the serious need that he does. After serious breakdown last spring, T figured out that D was seeking out abuse from strangers for this release, and that his need had escalated to dangerous level. We made D promise to come to T for more controlled application. Complete safety, but same release. It worked out quite well._  
  
_Wing: D mentioned that T had beaten him. How often?_  
  
_Sandrock: Three times in six months. "Beaten" too strong a word. T very skilled and methodical. No real physical damage. I can send you several websites for information._  
  
_Wing: I will not do that to him!_  
  
_Sandrock: But will you do it *for* him? I think that might have been what he was trying to find out, that last time after Madrid. He was leaving us, leaving safe outlet provided by T, and was probably afraid or embarrassed to ask you straight out for same support. You two haven't discussed any of this?_  
  
_Wing: No_  
  
_Wing: He never spoke of it. I felt ashamed. And have no wish to hurt him!_  
  
_Sandrock: Not giving him what he needs hurts him more, but I understand. Would you like T to continue to take care of that?_  
  
_Wing: NO_  
  
_Wing: Can't Dr. B do something? Therapy or meds?_  
  
_Sandrock: Apparently not. Very deep-seated need._  
  
_Sandrock: No pun intended._  
  
_Wing: Pun?_  
  
_Sandrock: Forget it. Bad joke. Help him._  
  
_Sandrock: Wing? Will you help him? Need to know._  
  
_Wing: Send websites ASAP. I will consider._  
  
_Wing: I believe present situation linked to your impending arrival, and existing relationship between the three of you._  
  
_Sandrock: Yes. That's why I contacted you. T's problems somewhat related._  
  
_Wing: D says he has "thing" for me, as well._  
  
_Sandrock: Yes._  
  
_Wing: Ongoing?_  
  
_Sandrock: Yes._  
  
_Wing: I'm sorry_  
  
_Sandrock: Not your fault. Nobody's fault. I've been working on that for my own peace of mind. Not easy, but know empathically that it does not threaten his relationship with me unless I choose to let it. Still a little hard to deal with, though._  
  
_Wing: I would never take any action that would hurt you, Q! I will not do anything that would._  
  
_Wing: Sandrock? You copy?_  
  
_Wing: Do you copy, Sandrock?_  
  
_Wing: Q, please! Copy?_  
  
_Sandrock: Sorry, Wing. Sometimes I can feel emotions, even at this distance. You just about knocked me off my chair. Give me a minute, please. Don't sign off, please._  
  
_Wing: I'll standby as long as you need._  
  
_Sandrock: Did it again, Wing! Please calm down._  
  
_Wing: Sorry. Standing by._  
  
  
  
  
_Wing: Still here. Are you OK? Are you crying, Q?_  
  
_Sandrock: Better now. I love you, too._  
  
_Wing: Didn't say that._  
  
_Sandrock: Your heart did. Good friend love. Nothing to be guilty about. I feel the same for you and D. So does T. It's a very good, nice thing. Copy?_  
  
_Wing: Affirmative. I'm still not used to such concepts._  
  
_Wing: But you are right. I hadn't thought clearly about it. Will research._  
  
_Sandrock: Research? LOL Just give me a hug when you see me, OK?_  
  
_Wing: I will try._  
  
_Sandrock: Maybe we'll play spin the bottle again down there._  
  
  
_Sandrock: Wing?_  
  
_Sandrock: I was kidding._  
  
_Wing: Copy that. Tell me more about T and the "thing"._  
  
  
_Wing: Q? More crying? I will standby._  
  
_Sandrock: No, I'm OK._  
  
_Wing: D doesn't lie to me. Do you?_  
  
_Sandrock: OK I am, but only a little._  
  
_Sandrock: Re: thing. T thinks he wants you to have sex with him. That's how it appears to him, these feelings he has. It hurts him. He is very guilty and sorry, but cannot shake them off. Always there a little, since time you spent together Earth-side after your self-destruct, but very strong since you returned and got involved with D, whom he also loves._  
  
_Wing: T in love with D?_  
  
_Sandrock: We both are, a little. Love, but not strongly sexual. Mostly just good friends. We've got a lot of shared experience, remember, these past few years. But D loves you and we are very glad for both of you. No lie._  
  
_Wing: You all slept in same bed._  
  
_Sandrock: Never sex with him. No lie._  
  
_Wing: I know. He told me. Loves you two very much. Situation complicated._  
  
_Sandrock: Very. Gundam Boys. Never a dull moment. Head hurts._  
  
_Wing: Mine, too._  
  
  
_Wing: Still here. Copy?_  
  
_Sandrock: Another question._  
  
_Wing: OK_  
  
_Sandrock: Hypothetically, if D and I didn't mind, would you have sex with T? Just posing the question._  
  
_Wing: Copy. No reply._  
  
_Sandrock: Are you angry with me?_  
  
_Wing: No I'm not. No lie. I think you must feel very sad. If I were there, I would hug you now._  
  
_Sandrock: Think of hugging me. Concentrate._  
  
  
_Sandrock: Thank you, H. I felt that. Much appreciated._  
  
  
_Sandrock: T thought it might be better if we stayed at a hotel in Mass._  
  
_Wing: No, that will not help them. Come as planned._  
  
_Sandrock: What will happen?_  
  
_Wing: No idea. Come anyway. Copy?_  
  
_Sandrock: I copy. You're a good friend. I love you, H._  
  
_Wing: Apparently mutual. Hear D moving. Send website info. Signing off._  
  
_Sandrock: Good night, my friend. See you next week. Signing off._  
  
_Wing: Copy._  
  
**___END LIVECHAT TRANSMISSION__07/10/98 01:27 AM EST____**


	35. Firm Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The websites Quatre sent were helpful. The mechanics of the act were not complicated. With Heero's extensive background in torture and interrogation techniques, most of what he read was familiar ground. He knew where and how to strike a human body without inflicting damage to bones or organs. He knew what parts were the most susceptible to pain. The connection between pain and endorphins was something he knew from first hand experience. No, what most mystified him, as much so after he'd done the reading as before, was why anyone would purposefully seek out such treatment in the name of pleasure. That he did not get at all.  
  
So he studied most closely the information dealing with the psychology of masochism. It was a complex thing, and highly subjective from one individual to another. It was important that he determine whether Duo actually felt he needed to be punished for some wrongdoing, real or imagined, or if it was simply the experience of being helpless, or if the pain was what he craved, and the hormone rush.   
  
If he had been working out of pure mission mode, he'd have contacted Trowa for primary source background regarding his target. The unresolved sexual tension between them made that impossible. Instead, he emailed Quatre, and received a detailed report of what 04 had observed from the outside. Quatre had not participated in the actual administration of the punishment, or witnessed it. Apparently Duo had been embarrassed about it, and kept it between Trowa and himself.   
  
Heero was relieved that Quatre had not been directly involved. It bothered him that Trowa had been; it was something the two of them would have to at least discuss to achieve full resolution between them and he was not looking forward to that. But the relationship he had with Quatre remained pure. That was how he thought of it; pure.  
  
He was beginning to wonder if he had a "thing" for Quatre. He did not particularly want to have sex with him, but whenever he thought of the little blond, he got a very pleasant, warm feeling. The kiss they'd shared during the drunken game had been good, something he valued in memory. The fact that Quatre could feel his concern across the distance to a space colony, and desired comfort from him when sad also made him feel good. He was looking forward to seeing him in person again in a few days. He thought he might even be able to initiate a hug, as requested.  
  
In the meantime, however, he must focus on calming and reassuring an increasingly withdrawn Duo.  
  
He researched quickly and was ready to proceed within forty eight hours of his initial email conversation with Quatre. According to Quatre, Trowa had always conducted his sessions with Duo in the evening, and before that Duo had sought out his rough strangers at night. So Heero spent that day and the next making his plans and keeping one eye on Duo has he moped around the house and puttered in his studio. The only action he took before nightfall was to reminded Duo of his meds each morning, and check through the day to see if he took them.   
  
He didn't.  
  
Heero didn't own any leather pants. After a light and rather quiet supper in the kitchen, he went upstairs and changed into his black jeans and the tight black tank he'd worn to the club. He put on the Dolchi belt, too, but left his feet bare. He looked at himself in the mirror when he was done, trying to imagine Duo's response. He looked 'dangerous', he supposed, the way Duo liked, but his dour expression was due mostly to discomfort with his mission. He was not currently sexually aroused at the prospect of what lay ahead. He was not, in sexual terms, a sadist. He was glad of that. The idea of being turned on by hurting Duo repulsed him. No, this was a mission, a job that needed doing for Duo's sake. He would do his best. It was not important that he enjoy it. Securing the long thong bracelet around his left wrist, he collected Duo's medicine bottles from the bathroom and went downstairs.  
  
Duo was in the living room, curled up with a magazine on the couch. The night was chilly and he;d built a fire in the fireplace while Heero was upstairs. The room was very cozy, a safe-feeling place. Duo had been working most of the day, and still had on the bleach spotted, paint streaked jeans and a faded green tee shirt that looked as if it had belonged to someone several sizes larger originally. He was barefoot, toenails still shiny silver from their anniversary date. As always, he looked incredibly beautiful. If not for the mission, Heero would have simply sat down with him and held him, or pulled those long, pretty feet into his lap and rubbed them until Duo got turned on or dozed off. Either outcome would have been fine.   
  
The mermaid mask Duo had given him caught Heero's eye as he crossed the room and his heart sank even lower than it already was. He didn't want to do this. He almost wished he'd agreed to leave this sort of thing to Trowa, but of course, he couldn't do that. Not if he meant to be the lover Duo needed. And not if he hoped to remain friends with Trowa.  
  
'Do it for Duo, not to Duo,' Quatre had advised. Heero clung to those words and attempted to observe Duo over with an objective eye.   
  
He looked up as Heero came into the room, took in what he was wearing, and smiled. But Heero also saw how tired and drained he was. A week of poor eating and sleeping and too much time shut away in the studio had already leached away some of the healthy color he'd picked up on the beach.  
  
"Baby, you didn't say anything about going out tonight."   
  
"We are not." Heero placed the three pill bottles in a row on the edge of the coffee table in front of Duo. "I counted. You have not been taking these as you should, even though I reminded you."  
  
Duo's eyes widened a little. Wary? A hint of fear? Disbelief? "Really? Yeah, I guess maybe I forgot, with work and all--"  
  
"What was our agreement?" Heero kept his tone neutral.  
  
Duo sighed and laid the magazine aside. "That I wouldn't give any excuses, I know. But jeeze, Heero, with the masks and all--"  
  
"More excuses. You violated our agreement. Stand up and give me your hands."   
  
Duo's eyebrows shot up. Disbelief was definitely the primary expression now, but he did as Heero asked. "Uh, Heero?"  
  
Heero slowly unwound the long braided thong from his wrist, then held out his hands for Duo's. To his amazement and somewhat to his dismay, Duo immediately hung his head and held out his hands, crossed at the wrists. He understood, and wanted the punishment he thought was to come. Heero was more convinced than ever that this had been Duo's aim all along.  
  
Heero bound his wrists without comment, then tilted Duo's chin up, making him look at him. "Did you do this to test me?"  
  
Duo averted his eyes. "Maybe, a little."  
  
"Is that why you played the radio so loud at night, hoping I'd wake up and be angry with you?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"You're not sure?"  
  
Duo shrugged, looking ashamed.   
  
"You have been very restless and uneasy this week. Are you frightened of something?"  
  
A nod.  
  
"What?"  
  
A shrug.  
  
Heero lifted Duo's chin a little higher, guiding those evasive eyes back to his. "You are feeling unbalanced, unsure. Why?"  
  
Another shrug.  
  
"Duo, if you think I am going to punish you for such childish behavior as the radio, you are mistaken. That would be like rewarding you for it. That would only reeinforce in your tendancy for self-destructive actions, especially the medication lapses. I don't like it that you try to manipulate me that way. If you continue with such behavior, I will simply ignore it, except for the medication issue. Until further notice, I would prefer it if you take your pills under my observation. Is this acceptable?"   
  
No orders. No threats. Duo had the option to refuse or rebel. He didn't. Instead, he nodded, looking even more miserable. Heero saw how his fingers twitched, how he flexed against the tightly wrapped thong around his wrists. Heero suspected that the feeling of being bound was giving him some sort of comfort.  
  
"We are agreed then. You will not try to manipulate me again?"  
  
"I won't, Heero. I'm sorry."  
  
Heero stroked his cheek. "I've seen your psych file, Duo. I've spoken with Quatre about what you needed from Trowa. I'm prepared to give you that in a safe and controlled manner any time you need it, but only if you are honest and tell me, instead of forcing me to lose control the way you did on the shuttle flight. You might have felt better afterwards, but I didn't. I felt very bad about it.  
  
Tears welled in Duo's eyes as he sank slowly to his knees and bowed his head. "I'm sorry! I'm a sick, twisted fuck-up, a selfish--"  
  
Heero caught him by the braid, hoisted him back to his feet and said firmly, but with no anger, "Stop that right now. I know your condition and understand what motivated you. I do not think you were trying to hurt me intentionally. I'm simply explaining to you why I will not participate in that sort of mind game with you. Tell me, why did you do that, instead of simply telling me what you needed?"  
  
"Why do you think?" Duo shot back, a momentary flash of irritation driving the beaten look from his eyes. Heero was glad to see some of the normal Duo in that glare and waited patiently for him to go on. "Jesus, Heero, it was hard enough to ask Tro, and he's been in the scene with me for two years! What was I supposed to say to you? I was dying inside that I even needed it. I hate it that I can't control these feelings! I feel like an alcoholic who can't stop drinking, even though he knows it'll kill him!"  
  
"It is a compulsion."  
  
"Sure, yeah, that's as good a name for it as anything."  
  
"And what Trowa did for you, under controlled circumstance; this met your need equally well as being seriously injured by a stranger in a sex club?"  
  
Duo looked away again. "It was better. He--he was really good to me after, took care of me and brought me down gently. And then he and Kat--" He broke off, voice unsteady.  
  
"You would sleep with them afterwards, with them holding you."  
  
Duo nodded. "Are you mad?"  
  
"No." A little jealous, maybe, but they were about to fix that. "I will--" He hesitated. He felt so damn silly using the word out loud! "I will spank you when you need it, but I will never, ever strike you to punish you. That would be abusive, for one thing, but mostly because I want an equal for a lover, not a bad little boy. If my lover needs me to restrain and--treat him a certain way, to give him that emotional release, then I will do it. But only on my terms."   
  
He'd rehearsed this carefully all day, hoping it was the right mix; a demand for responsibility on Duo's part, but making it clear that Duo could let go safely, with Heero firmly in charge.   
  
To his relief, Duo gave him a rather shame-faced but grateful nod.  
  
"Very well, then. I'm going to go get you a glass of water and watch you take your pills. What comes next is neither a punishment nor a reward. It is simply something you need to feel better. Are we absolutely clear on that?"  
  
"Affirmative."  
  
"Good. Have your pants off by the time I get back. Leave the shirt."  
  
Alone in the kitchen, Heero braced his hands on the edge of the sink and fought to remain calm. "Do it for him," he muttered, feeling a little ill.  
  
Duo was ready when he came back, standing nervously by the couch in nothing but the faded green tee-shirt. It came down over his hips, and Heero could tell by the way it hung in the front that Duo was not sexually excited by this. Heero made a mental note of that. This didn't seem to be about sex.  
  
Duo's hair was still braided and Heero left it that way, in order to avoid any connection in Duo's mind between this and the sexual connotations Heero had with his hair. Heero wasn't sure he could handle any sexual overtones in conjunction with this. He'd just have to see how he felt after they got past this first difficult part.  
  
He counted out Duo's evening dose of meds and placed them in Duo's hand, then gave him the glass of water. Duo swallowed the pills and Heero gave him an approving kiss. "Thank you. It scares me when you stop taking them. I want you happy and healthy, and with me my whole life. You'll do that for me, won't you?"  
  
Duo was blinking back tears again. "Yes, Heero. I'm sorry!"  
  
Heero put his arms around him and held him for a moment, stroking his back. "We'll work on that together." He stroked lower, past the hem of the shirt to that smooth, round bare backside. Duo shivered against him and Heero felt the bound hands trapped between their bodies flexing against their bonds again.  
  
"Do you still need this?" Heero whispered against his ear. "I could just tie you up on the bed, instead."  
  
"After," Duo murmured against his shoulder. "Whatever you want, how ever you want, afterwards. But please? Can we do this? Please?"  
  
The pleading whisper sent a pang though Heero's heart. Heero held him by the shoulders and stepped back. "Then you must tell me what you need, Duo. Show me that you can ask."  
  
Duo sank slowly to his knees at Heero's feet again, but looked him in the eye all the while. "I need you to spank me hard, Heero. I need you to drive me over the edge, until I give out. My safe words are 'blue sky' if I need you to pause, or if I need to tell you something, and 'starfish' if I can't take anymore. I promise I will use them if I need to. I promise I won't let you really harm me."  
  
That was the right answer. Heero bent and kissed him, then sat down in the middle of the couch. "Across my lap."  
  
Duo crawled over and draped himself across Heero's knees, hands resting on the floor by Heero's feet. Heero adjusted the bindings, tying the hands securely with slack between them, then put one bare foot on the slack, holding Duo's hands firmly down. Then he pulled his other leg in closer to the couch, raising that knee and Duo's ass with it, leaving him head down, ass high. He stroked Duo's braid, and then moved it aside and stroked his back through the tee shirt, then traced the edge of the hem, letting Duo know how it rode up in this position, leaving his ass exposed. Gradually, he moved his hand, still stroking, over those pale, firm cheeks, "waking the flesh" as one of the articles had put it. He stroked Duo's bottom and the backs of his thighs, silently showing Duo where he would be concentrating his efforts. That fair skin was already flushing a faint pink.  
  
"Ready?"   
  
Duo nodded, then tensed as Heero raised his hand.   
  
The first smack and Duo's hitching gasp sounded much too loud in the quiet room, making Heero wish he'd put on some music. Next time.  
  
He gave Duo nine more measured, moderately hard slaps on the fleshy parts of his backside and paused, giving the safe word a chance. But Duo stayed silent, almost relaxed across his lap.  
  
Ten more, harder this time, and lower, aiming for the soft flesh just under the curve of the buttocks, very sensitive according to Quatre and the articles. Duo grew tense and began to let out little gasps.   
  
Ten more, spread out from his butt to just above his knees, and Heero could make out the long red marks left by his fingers.   
  
"Blue sky."  
  
Heero rested his hand on Duo's back, letting him know he'd stopped.  
  
"Harder, faster, and concentrate on my ass," Duo whispered. "Don't stop until I ask you."  
  
"Copy that. Ready?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Heero did as he asked, but kept count. After five Duos began to make noise, and after eight he began to struggle, pulling against the pressure of Heero's foot across the wrist binding. At eighteen he began to whimper and yelp and by twenty three he was sobbing and struggling harder. Heero set a mental limit of forty and continued, hitting a little harder.   
  
Duo began to thrash in earnest, but Heero angled his knee so he couldn't fall off.   
  
At forty he paused.   
  
"No!" Duo sobbed. "Please-Almost--"  
  
Quatre had said something about Duo going limp at a certain point. Heero refocused on the sensitive under curve again and went faster and harder, hoping to drive him to that break point. Duo convulsed, crying and really fighting to free his hands, but Heero kept him pinned, raining down blows with his open palm. His hand was starting to hurt now. He could also feel Duo's erection now, hard against his leg.  
  
Duo let out a loud, anguished cry and collapsed, heading hanging down, arms and legs limp. Heero kept going, not letting up, and finally heard a hoarse, tearful "Starfish!"  
  
Heero allowed himself a moment's stillness, relieved. Then he pulled Duo around into his arms and carried him to the guestroom down the hall where he'd made up the bed earlier. He'd told himself at the time that he didn't trust his newly returned strength enough to attempt carrying Duo up the stairs, but was honest enough with himself now to know that he didn't want to associate this evening's activities with the bed they'd shared so lovingly.   
  
Duo was too far gone to notice. He pressed his tear streaked face into the curve of Heero's neck, bound hands fisted in the front of Heero's black shirt, murmuring "Thank you, baby. Just right! Thank you!"  
  
Heero climbed onto the bed and untied Duo's hands, then cradled him in his arms, stroking his hair and arms and bare hip as Duo clung to him. He calmed quickly, but he was still panting a little, and his cock was hard and erect. Heero ignored that for now and instead loosened the braid and combed it free with his fingers, then ran his fingers through it close to Duo's scalp.   
  
"I love you, Duo."  
  
"Love--you! Thank you--so much."  
  
"Feel better?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Good. Remember our deal. Ask me properly next time, and I'll do that whenever you need me to."  
  
Duo answered with a heartfelt kiss and snuggled closer. "Got me horney, too, baby."  
  
Heero still had serious reservations about sex in this context. His initial plan had been to wait until the following morning to initiate anything. But the feeling of Duo so relaxed against him, high on endorphins--literally glowing and smiling that dreamy-looking smile-- made Heero waver in his resolve. It also occurred to him that Duo, by his own account, had never had sex with anyone else afterwards. Heero was the first. That excited him more than he liked to admit.  
  
He dropped his hand to Duo's lap and stroked the weeping erection there. Duo moaned and rocked up into his hand. "You want me, little mermaid?"  
  
"Always! Please, Heero. I'd love it, love you in me now."  
  
Heero moved Duo off his lap and onto his back, with a pillow under his head and two under his hips. Duo stretched his arms over his head and let out a sexy little moan, knowing this position let Heero thrust in very deep.   
  
Heero undressed quickly, hands shaking a little, then knelt between those wide spread legs. He traced the insides of Duo's thighs with light caresses, and then bent and kissed the same path up to that hot, heavy sac. Duo groaned more deeply as Heero nuzzled and licked his balls, then tongued his way down to the red, mottled curve of his ass. His ass and the backs of his thighs were very red and hot to the touch. Now that Heero's passion was beginning to rise, the heat of it excited him a little. He'd done that.  
  
Heero didn't touch Duo's cock, not yet. Finding the lube he'd left ready on the nightstand just in case, he prepared Duo's tight opening and then pressed his lover's legs back, bracing Duo's feet against his shoulders so that his ass was lifted and exposed.   
  
"Oh yeah!" Duo rolled his head against the pillow and stretched his arms, pressing his hands to the headboard. "So ready, baby! Make me yours, all yours!"  
  
No one else had ever heard those words, thought Heero, and not at a moment like this.  
  
That knowledge, and the exceptional warmth of Duo's reddened flesh against his thighs sent a spiked erotic blast through Heero, forcing a pounding, almost painful wave of desire up his own stiffened cock. Coating it quickly, he sank slowly into Duo's tight passage, watching as his cock disappeared into his lover's body. Duo's beautiful mouth opened in a silent cry of pleasure and pain as he lifted his hips against the assault, taking Heero even deeper.   
  
Heero leaned over him and caught Duo's wrists in a tight grip over his head, pinning them and ravishing that gasping mouth with his own as he thrust once, twice, three times. Duo's muffled gasps and the way he locked his ankles behind Heero's neck told Heero that he was hitting that deep, sweet spot already.   
  
He thrust again, harder, and mouthed his way down Duo's neck to his left armpit and then up the corded muscle of his straining left arm. Trapped, half crushed, Duo cried out and writhed against him, welcoming every onslaught of mouth and cock. Heero had to resist the urge to sink his teeth into the tight flesh under his lips. Rearing back, he clutched the backs of Duo's thighs, pushing them forward again and leaning into his thrusts now, driving harder and faster toward his own impending climax.  
  
Duo was screaming now, not in pain, but in ecstasy. "Yes! Yeah, give it to me! So good, fucking good! Heero, Heero, HEEROOOOOOOOOO!"  
  
Heero grabbed Duo's cock, fisted it roughly and Duo came crying his name. His hot ejaculations hit Heero in the chest, right over his heart.   
  
"DUO!" Heero came so hard his vision went white and all he knew was the feeling of slamming into the tightness around his cock. Teeth clenched, head thrown back, lips peeled back in an animal grimace, he rode wave after wave of orgasm. His slowly vision cleared and he saw Duo again, gazing blissfully, almost worshipfully up at him.  
  
"Heero, baby, c'mere," he panted, holding his arms up.   
  
Heero fell willingly into those arms and pulled Duo onto his side and close to his heart, stroking his hair and holding, holding . . .  
  
"Not so tight," Duo squeaked, but it was more of a laugh than a complaint. "Those workouts are really doing the trick. I think you cracked a rib."  
  
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Heero panted, still not fully in control of his limbs.  
  
"No problem. I'm still flying. And my ass is all tingly! So good, baby!"  
  
"Copy that." Heero mentally explored how he felt about having sex after spanking Duo. At the moment, the answer was 'very fucking fine!'  
  
They came down slowly together. Heero shifted onto his back, lifting Duo's head to rest on his shoulder and pulling Duo's arm cross his chest. Holding him close with infinite care and tenderness, he whispered, "That's what I will give you if you ask me."  
  
"Oh god! Yes, thank you! I promise," Duo murmured, hugging him.  
  
"No mind games or acting out. No being naughty."  
  
Duo stiffened slightly, then let out an explosive, sputtering giggle against Heero's chest. "Naughty? Did you actually call me _naughty?"_  
  
"Quatre's term," Heero muttered, blushing.  
  
Duo was helplessly giggling now. "No, I like it. Seriously! Hearing you say that? Oh man, we gotta find some way to work more 'naughtiness' into our love life." He really lost it now, shaking against Heero's side.  
  
Heero found himself joining in. It was sort of a sexy word when Duo said it. It sounded very--naughty.   
  
When they'd both finally calmed down again, Heero stroked Duo's shoulder and asked, "Now, can you tell me why you were feeling so bad? What you couldn't tell me before?"  
  
Duo was quiet for a moment, and then nodded. "OK, here it is. I love you, right? More than anyone else in the world."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You believe that. _Really_ believe?"  
  
"Of course. You wouldn't lie to me."  
  
"No I wouldn't. Not about that or anything else. But not telling you something feels kinda like lying, too, but I don't want to tell you because it might hurt you or change the way you feel about me."  
  
"Duo, it's all right. I've seen how you've been these past few days and I'm fairly certain I know the reason. But I think you need to tell me. So just say it. I'm not going anywhere and I won't stop loving you."   
  
Duo looked up at last, eyes wide and dark with emotion, the fear and yearning in them making him look much younger than he was. "Promise?"  
  
"Yes, I promise," Heero assured him, kissing him on the forehead.  
  
"It's just, you get jealous sometimes, y'know? And this is about Trowa and Kat."  
  
"I figured as much. Go on."  
  
"Yeah. OK. Heero, I love you, and if you don't want me just, y'know, messing and playing around with Tro and Kat anymore, I won't. But---Oh, hell, Heero." There was a definite quaver creeping into his voice again, and a tear slipped down his cheek. "That doesn't stop me from still _wanting_ to! It was nice. I really _liked_ sleeping with them and dog piling with them and getting Kat to paint my toenails and--- Shit. Shit! I know how jealous you get and I don't want to hurt you but if I wasn't honest it would just eat at me and with them coming here and--"  
  
"Duo, stop. Look at me."  
  
Duo swallowed and wiped at his cheek.   
  
"Do you think they'd let me sleep with the three of you? Can I be in the pile and be close to them, too?"  
  
Duo blinked up at him, surprise replacing some of the fear.  
  
"We did a little of that in Madrid, remember?" Heero reminded him. "You and Quatre with me on the couch, and that game, and sleeping together, all four of us that night? I liked that, Duo. I really did. If that's the sort of thing you're talking about--" He paused, blushing again as he remembered what it felt like to hug Quatre, and the way Trowa had surrendered to his kiss. That was just messing around, right? "Well, then I'd sort of like to try it. That is, if the rest of you don't mind. I haven't talked to them about it yet."  
  
"They'll love it!" Duo scrambled up on his knees beside Heero, beaming with delight. "They'll have no problem with it, Heero, I just know it. Well, except for that thing with Trowa."  
  
"Yes, that could complicate matters. I don't know what to do about that, Duo. Quatre even asked if I'd be willing to have sex with him if you and he said it was OK, but I didn't think that was--"  
  
"He said _what?"_ Those expressive eyes were full of disbelief and the beginnings of outrage now. "I for one say it is abso-fucking-lutly _not_ OK for you to do anything of the fucking kind!"  
  
Heero tried not to smile. It was nice to have someone else being jealous about him for a change. "It was a hypothetical question, Duo. Quatre doesn't want that, either, any more than you or I do. He was crying when he asked me. He wants to help Trowa, but that would hurt him terribly and I've already said I won't do that to him. But if I'd said yes, I think he'd have asked me to, even if it tore his own heart out."   
  
Duo drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, frowning. "Yeah, he would, the little martyr. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with Trowa. But neither does Tro and it's killing him."  
  
"Quatre is worried that it will affect Trowa's ability to perform his circus acts, perhaps even create an unsafe situation."  
  
"So it's a choice between you screwing Trowa or him becoming sawdust hash? Not much of a choice."  
  
"Neither one is an acceptable option," Heero drew Duo back down beside him and propped his head up on one hand.   
  
Duo frowned to himself for a moment. "Do you remember those tests Sally gave us, right after the truce?"  
  
"Yes. Intelligence and aptitude."  
  
"And types of intelligence. Quatre got hold of the reports a while ago. Have you seen the results on everyone?"  
  
"No just my own."  
  
"Right. Well, aside from all of us having higher than average I.Q.s-you and Quatre were the highest, in case you were wondering-- we were all different on the types. You and Kat both had high logical intelligence, but his interpersonal scores were really high and yours were-well, they weren't.   
  
"Hn."  
  
"I rest my case. I, on the other hand, had a really high verbal intelligence score, and spatial reasoning-hence my phenonmenal pilotings skills." He grinned.   
  
"That might also account for your skill with the mask making."  
  
"Maybe. Wufei has high logic, but even higher intrapersonal scores, which makes him really driven to excell on his own terms, and a general arrogant pain in the ass. Not that I don't like the guy, but you gotta admit, he's about as flexible as a steel bar."  
  
"And Trowa?"  
  
"That's what I was coming to. He scored high in spatial, but really, really high in what they called body intelligence. The guy literally learns through his body, though action, touching, physical contact, working with his hands. You know how he is; not much of a talker, but the way he moves? No mystery why he ended up piloting a Gundam _and_ doing circus work. Hey, maybe that explains why he's all over Kat all the time, too. Not that Q-ball complains, believe me! But maybe that's why he's focused on you the way he is."  
  
"Body intelligence? Perhaps." Heero pondered this a moment. "Tell me more about messing around. What are the acceptable parameters?"  
  
"Parameters? Yeah, I guess there are rules. I just never had to spell 'em out to anyone before."  
  
"Please try. You know how I am."  
  
Duo chuckled and snuggled closer. "You're 'body intelligence' was pretty high, too, as I recall. No problems there."  
  
"With you. But not with others. Please, how does this sort of interaction work?"  
  
"OK, here goes. You never, ever go for the goodies." He cupped a hand over Heero's limp cock. "That's rule number one. That is _always_ out of bounds for messing around and don't let anyone tell you different. Start feeling each other up that way and you're playing a whole different game."  
  
"No genital contact. Check. What about the ass?"  
  
"Penetration of any sort is off limits. But just general grab ass? Weeelllll, that's kinda a gray area. Depends on the circumstances, who you're with, how drunk everyone is. For now with the guys, let's call it off limits."  
  
"Ass off limits. Check."  
  
"Foot rubbing is legal, but it's pretty intimate. Not something you go for until you're really comfortable with someone. If you do end up there, keep the hands below the knee. Above the knee and below the belt is no man's land."  
  
"Check. And above the belt?"  
  
"Well, if you're ever messing around with a girl, assuming I don't kill her first, boobs are off limits unless she tells you otherwise and if she does, you're probably heading for sex. No boobs for you, my man. With guys, chest rubbing is OK. Nipples are intimate. Sucking nipples or fingers is the same as sex, so don't go there. No toe sucking, either."  
  
"Check. And no gets to brush your hair but me. That's intimate."  
  
"Copy that. I'll warn the others." Duo grinned and scratched his head. "Jeeze, this all seems kinda complicated when you try to talk about it. Mostly you just know, y'know? The rest is pretty much up for grabs, so long as the other guy's OK with it. Back rubs, tickling, snuggling, hugs; that's all good messing around. Sleeping together is OK, so long as everyone has their goodies covered. Oh, and _this_ is legal with Tro and Kat, too."   
  
Duo leaned over as if to kiss Heero on the belly, but instead pressed his lips to it and blew hard, making a loud, ripping, farting noise that tickled as much as it shocked.   
  
Heero doubled over and grabbed him, wresting him down on the bed. "What the hell was that?" But he was laughing in spite of the outrage just committed on his person and dignity.  
  
Duo was laughing almost too hard to answer. "I--I dunno the--ha, oh don't tickle-- Heero! Don't know the technical term. Just know it's fun! Kat practically pisses himself when you do that to him."   
  
Pulling a Shinigami, he twisted out of Heero's grasp, flipped and pinned him with one lightning fast toss and did it again.   
  
Heero started to yell but ended up cackling helplessly as Duo blew another obnoxious blast against his side as he tried to struggle away. "Stop! No! Agghhhhhh!" Duo got in one more before Heero got loose and fell off the side of the bed. "Do that again, Maxwell, and I will never spank you again!"  
  
Duo fell back on the bed, hands raised in surrender. "No, not that! Deal! Jeeze, Yuy, you're a mean bastard after mind blowing sex, ain't ya!"  
  
Heero pounced, flipped him, and delivered a stinging volley of slaps to Duo's already red and somewhat bruised ass. "You would do well to keep that in mind, _Maxwell_."  
  
Duo squirmed and laughed helplessly underneath him, then shrieked as Heero successfully blew one of those noisy, nameless attacks on the side of his neck. "Ah, no! Stop!"  
  
"Can't take it, Maxwell?"  
  
"Ah, I get it!" Duo gasped, fighting for breath. "Maxwell is my 'Boy, you are in deep shit' name, right?"  
  
"Copy that."  
  
"I think I like it better when I'm your mermaid."  
  
Heero loosened his grip and kissed him. "Always my mermaid."  
  
When they'd settled down again, Heero hugged him close and asked, "So, are you really feeling better now?"  
  
Duo nodded. "Still kinda nervous about the whole Trowa thing, 'cause I really don't see what we can do to fix it. But yeah, better overall. Thanks, Heero. You're the best.  
  
"When Quatre and I talked the other night, I said we should just wait and see what happens. With four people involved, there are just too many variables to predict or even plan. Are you OK with that?"  
  
"Yeah, so long as--Well, yeah."  
  
So long as you don't fuck Trowa, Heero guessed. There had to be some other solution. One that wouldn't pull the four of them apart just as he was beginning to feel accepted among them again.


	36. Project Trowa: Mission Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo's observations about the different forms of intelligence seemed a valuable key to defusing the "Trowa thing" if they could just figure out how to use it. If Trowa's strongest attribute was body-kinesthetic intelligence, Heero reasoned, then it was little wonder that talking about his attraction to him and trying to deal with it logically had not worked.  
  
Quatre provided the test records he'd hacked and Heero and Duo spent a good part of the following day on the couch with their laptops, combing the 'net for more information. Trowa's scores in the visual-spatial and musical-rhythmic categories were also exceptionally high, closely followed by logic-mathematical intelligence. However, the elements that relied on interaction with others, especially the verbal-linguistic score were lower than the norm.   
  
"No wonder he and Quatre work so well," said Duo. "Kat's empathy and all that mind reading stuff lets him see what's going on inside Trowa, and they're both really into the touchy feely non verbal communications. Quatre loves to snuggle and touch and Trowa totally eats it up, and vice versa. It's like they were made for each other."  
  
"Yes. I think Trowa would be lost without him, or someone like him, or at least very lonely."  
  
"But that doesn't do us much good. Just telling him to back off doesn't get through," Duo muttered, tugging absently at his braid.   
  
Heero caught the motion and kept a surreptitious eye on him. But Duo hadn't chewed on the end of it, or his fingernails, since the "spanking therapy" session yesterday. Just like last time, he'd been in high spirits ever since. He'd turned off all the lights last night before bed, slept deeply, and woken horny even though he was still sore inside and out. That hadn't prevented him from teasing and seducing Heero into penetrating him again before he'd let him out of bed this morning, and again just now, bent over the kitchen table in the middle of making sandwiches for lunch. Although Heero could detect no negative element in Duo's behavior or demeanor, he wondered if this behavior was a continuation of Duo's need to feel dominated in order to feel safe. Heero wondered if Duo realized that by instigating and insisting on this sort of activity, he was placing himself, rather than Heero, in control.   
  
After the lunchtime "quickie" and a short nap on the couch with Duo sprawled on top of him, Heero woke with a sore back and a clearer head. He had an appointment with Dr. Batoosingh the afternoon. He should probably mention this to him.   
  
For now, however, Duo was sated, and his mind seemed firmly back in mission mode and focused on "Project Trowa."   
  
According to what they'd gleaned so far, people like Trowa were often performers, dancers, or athletes. Trowa was all of that, and more. It all fit. Such people preferred learning in a non-verbal format, and their muscles and reflexes seemed to store experience as much as their brains did. They literally learned by doing or experiencing.   
  
"Just look how he shows connection to others," Duo observed. "He fucks. He cuddles. He touches. I could be all over him, messing around, and he'd never cross the line, but he liked it. He got it. Me telling him I care about him wouldn't make nearly the impression that just giving him a hug or sitting on his lap watching television would."  
  
"He and I are not so different, although I do like hearing you say how you feel about me," said Heero. "But your touch, and all we do together? It doesn't need words to explain it. You are a very physically demonstrative person, and I am able to welcome and enjoy that, and understand it. I'm afraid it's more of an effort for me to give you the verbal cues you might desire."  
  
But Duo shook his head. "None of us are just one type. My interpersonal scores were off the charts. I can read people really well. Kept me alive on the streets, and got me out of a lot of jams during the war. And it lets me read you like a book, whether you say anything or not." He leaned over and nuzzled Heero's cheek. "Lucky for you, huh?"  
  
Heero smiled. "Very. But Trowa can't do that, can he? According to these scores he worse at it than I am, and I'm not very good unless it involves reading an enemy's intent. I can recognize threats, but I don't pick up on normal social cues very well."  
  
"Hey, you're learning, right? But Trowa was better socialized than you are. He gets it enough to function, and most people cut him slack, thinking he's just shy. But he's sure as hell got some sort of problem around you. Quatre says there's a dark element to it. What's up with that?"  
  
"I don't know. Perhaps something stemming back to our time during the war?"  
  
"What happened then, anyway?"  
  
"I can only speak from my own viewpoint. I self-destructed, then the next thing I knew, I was in his circus caravan and he was there, taking care of me. We hardly spoke most of the time. He tended my physical needs, fed me-" Heero paused, smiling a little as he thought back. "He taught me to play cards, and played his flute for me sometimes. But we didn't talk much. When I told him I was going to seek out the Noventa family and offer them revenge against me, he packed a knapsack and came with me. I didn't ask him to. He just did. Then we ended up with Zechs and Noin an Antarctica . . ."  
  
"Did you mind any of that?"  
  
"No. I suppose I grew to enjoy his company, as much as I was capable of enjoying anything back then. I remember mostly being focused on my recovery, and then the work of finding the Noventas. He was just--there."  
  
"And it never occurred to you that there might be some reason _why_ he was tagging along with you, since it obviously wasn't for your scintillating conversational skills?"  
  
"No."  
  
"And you never found yourself attracted to him?"  
  
"I didn't think in those terms."  
  
"So you spent practically every waking hour together for over a month, he tended to your every need, played music for you, tagged along on your grand quest, and it _never_ occurred to you that maybe he liked you?"  
  
"He slept with me, too," Heero mused.  
  
"What?!"  
  
Heero realized what he'd just said and who he'd said it to and added quickly, "There was only one bed in the trailer. It was large enough to accommodate two. I saw no reason at the time for it to be anything other than the logical thing to do. But there was no uh, snuggling, except for when one or the other of us would move in our sleep in such a way that brought us into contact."  
  
Duo rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Heero!"  
  
"I wasn't registering any attraction to you, either, at that point," Heero reminded him.  
  
"Yeah? Well, if it had been me tending your boo boos and sleeping with you at night, you would have! I started having wet dreams about you about five minutes after we met."  
  
"Given what happened in Finland, against all my training and programming, it was probably just as well we didn't have much time together. I probably wouldn't have survived the war."  
  
"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Duo demanded.  
  
"I survived and accomplished what I did by not allowing myself any emotional attachments whatsoever, and by not letting myself care what happened to the rest of you, or even myself. If I felt about you then the way I do now, I would not have been able to function at that level. If nothing else, I would have been too worried about losing you. After that night in Finland, you didn't see me for a long time, did you?"  
  
"Nothing unusual about that. We all went months without contact-Oh, I get it. You were avoiding me. Like I'd notice! Aside from a couple of days on the Sweeper ship and that undercover set up at the school, you and I hardly spent twenty-four hours in the same location ever." He paused, frowning. "I didn't get to hang out with anyone much except those coupla times with you and the days with Kat in the Maguanac town. You had that all time with Tro, and both of you hung out with Kat at different times---Hey, you spent _weeks_ with Quatre! Did anything ever happen with him?"  
  
"No!" It came out rather more stridently than he'd expected, and he realized that he was actually blushing. Duo, Mr. Higher than Normal Interpersonal Intelligence Skills, caught him out on it instantly.  
  
"What happened?" he demanded, setting his computer aside and kneeling to look Heero in the eye. "Did you and 04 need to share a sleeping bag or a dorm bed for logical reasons, too? Have any comfy moments together around the ol' campfire?"  
  
"No, we did not, not in any way that was remotely sexual. Quatre was very pleasant company; I'm sure I wasn't, most of the time. He did teach me to play chess, and talked quite a lot, whether I responded or not. I suppose I enjoyed his company on some level, but I was primarily concerned with evading capture and getting out of Sanque without getting captured or killed. We were never on the same mission, mentally, and by the end he was aligning himself with Relena's pacifists. I ended up in a mobile suit, if you recall."  
  
It was all true, but Duo was still scrutinizing him closely, and still frowning. "You _like_ him!"  
  
"Of course I do. So do you! You're the one sleeping and dancing with him, all that."  
  
"You're blushing, Heero. You're sweet on the Q-man! I thought so when you kissed him that last time, and the way you talk to him? You got a soft spot for our little 04!"  
  
Heero froze, not knowing how to respond. It was true, of course. He'd already figured that out, but his feelings for Quatre didn't seem to threaten what he felt for Duo in any way. But how to explain that to Duo?   
  
To his relief, that frown slowly changed to a knowing grin. "So I'm right!"  
  
Heero nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, Duo. I don't want to have sex with him, I just--"  
  
"He just makes you feel like hugging him, right?"  
  
"Yes." It was the truth, in part.  
  
"And you probably get all protective over him, right? I bet you want to clean Trowa's clock for making him feel bad."  
  
Damn Duo's higher than normal Interpersonal Intelligence skills! Heero nodded.   
  
But those skills must have worked in his favor, because Duo climbed into his lap and kissed him. "It's OK, Heero. That's just how I feel! He's smart and capable and a lot tougher than everyone ever thought, but let's face it, he's also so damn sweet and cute and kind I just wanna carry him around like a teddy bear half the time. Trowa feels the same way about him, only in spades, and with the sex. Kat's just that kinda guy and he deserves it, too. He's a good person, and he loves the hell out of all of us. He's nice to cuddle up with in bed, too. Just you wait!"  
  
Heero blinked up at him. Duo was beaming. "So, you want me to sleep with Quatre because I have feelings for him, but are jealous that I slept with Trowa without caring about it? This is confusing, even for you!"  
  
Duo rolled his eyes again, but his fingers were busy playing with the shaggy hair at the back of Heero's neck. "It's totally different! Quatre doesn't want to have sex with you. I mean, he might be really into messing around with you, but that's it."  
  
"So even though I don't think of Trowa sexually at all, you're still jealous?"  
  
Duo gave his hair a playful tug. "Hey, it makes sense in my reality. You're just gonna have to trust me on this."  
  
Heero considered this. "The way I feel about Quatre is the way you feel about both of them?"  
  
"Yeah, sounds like it."  
  
"And you expect me _not_ to feel jealous about that?"  
  
Duo raised his eyebrows. "Why would ya?"  
  
"Because perhaps in my reality it makes sense?"  
  
The grin faded. "Yeah? Well, our worlds are about to collide when they show up in four days. I really want to find some way to make this all work, 'cause--" His voice broke, and he blinked and looked away.  
  
Heero gently cupped Duo's face between his hands, and kissed him tenderly on the forehead and lips. "I will make it work for you, because it is what my lover needs. They're like your family, Duo."  
  
Duo made a face. "That's a little creepy. If I had brothers, I wouldn't be messing around with 'em!"  
  
"Not like brothers, but more than just friends."  
  
"Maybe all four of us should be boyfriends at once, huh?" Duo smirked. "Or are you having some kinda harem fantasy?"  
  
Heero had never considered such a thing, and was dismayed when his mission-oriented mind ran a quick test scenario. On a purely intellectual level, it seemed a needlessly complicated arrangement, fraught with too many unpredictable variables. He could barely manage Duo as it was. Unfortunately, his body reacted on quite another level.  
  
Still sitting on his lap, Duo could hardly miss it. "Heero Yuy, you dog!" He laughed, apparently not offended. Not offended, in fact, to the point that he was squirming around in a decidedly sensual manner now, and his eyes were getting that hot 'fuck me' look again, their kitchen table session less than two hours ago not withstanding.  
  
"What appeals to one as a sexual fantasy does not necessarily have any bearing on what a person would actually wish to do in real life," Heero informed him. "Any research into the subject will bear that out."  
  
But Duo wasn't listening. He was in full lap dance mode, resting his hands on Heero's shoulders as he gyrated sinuously against him, still straddling Heero's legs and groin. "So, you get to be the master, I'm betting, and the rest of us are just lying around, panting for you to summon us to your tent? Hmmm? That what's got your cock all hard, baby? OK, but I wanna be your favorite, the one the others are all jealous of. But what can I do? When the Master calls, I just _have_ to obey."   
  
"Duo--"  
  
"So what do your little harem boys wear, Master, hmmmm? Want me in sheer silk trousers and a veil?"  
  
"A gag would be a better idea," but he didn't mean it. Closing his eyes, he rested his hands lightly on Duo's swaying hips, letting him use those exceptional verbal skills of his to paint a very erotic fantasy. His own imagination started adding details--Quatre in blue and Trowa in green and Duo in--in? Ah yes, Duo in pink silk and a veil and some sort of head covering, with just those violet eyes showing.  
  
"Duo, you may be my favorite, but you're very naughty," he growled, tightening his grip on Duo's hips.  
  
Duo let out a breathy little laugh. "Naughty, huh? Maybe that's _why_ I'm your favorite. Maybe you like what it takes to keep me in line, huh?"  
  
Duo was caught up in his own fantasy now, making it easy enough to flip him over and pin him across Heero's lap. Heero gave him a few playful swats on the seat of his jeans.  
  
"Ow ow OW! Too sore, Heero! Jeeze, give a guy--"  
  
Heero caught him by the braid and pulled his head back. "That's 'Master' to you. And if you get your Master all aroused and distracted while he's trying to get some serious work done, my little harem boy, then you're going to have to tend to his needs."  
  
Duo slid sideways off his lap, knelt between Heero's legs and reached for the buttons of his fly. A wicked little grin was playing about his lips, but he was flushed and turned on, too. "May I, Master? I promise to be good. Really, really good!"  
  
"We'll have to see about that." Heero glowered down at him from under his bangs. "If you please me with that arrogant mouth of yours, perhaps, just perhaps, I'll spare your tight, sore, much-fucked little bottom. Or maybe I'll just throw you down and fuck you anyway. I haven't decided."  
  
Duo muttered something that sounded a lot like "created a monster" but his hands were busy opening Heero's jeans and tugging them down around his knees. He leaned forward and took Heero's straining erection down his throat in one smooth swallow.   
  
Their lunchtime coupling had been quick and frenzied, and had left Heero more sensitized than ever. From the first touch of Duo's hot mouth he was helpless to do anything but lie there and let his 'slave' do whatever he wanted.   
  
And Duo seemed to want to swallow him whole and 'fry his circuits'. Using some remarkable, magical combination of tongue action and suction, he immobilized Heero, and managed to tug his jeans the rest of the way off without even breaking rhythm. Heero closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch as Duo pulled his right leg over his shoulder, pinned Heero's left hand to the couch beside him, and then, a moment later, slid two long slick fingers into his ass. One of these days Heero was going to get Duo to teach him how he managed a bottle of lube one-handed, but now was not the time. Now Heero couldn't have strung three coherent words together to save his life. He couldn't even form a coherent thought, once those fingers started massaging his prostate just exactly the way he liked it. He couldn't honestly say he was glad of all the experience Duo had had, doing this to other men, but he was certainly happy enough to reap the benefits. Whether using fingers or his cock, Duo could play him like a Stradivarius, bringing him to the edge and then letting him come down just enough to tease and make him beg, without losing the edge of arousal. He was doing it now, making Heero gasp and moan and babble and beg out loud in a way that he'd have been utterly mortified for anyone else to hear. "Don't stop. Oh god, o fuck, baby that's sogoodsogoodsogood Sweet, naughty little---O fuck! More! Please, more! Nuh-UH!"  
  
He lost count at five near-orgasms before Duo finally relented and brought him off with one so intense he had to drag him off his cock and up into his arms or he'd have passed out. As it was he was so out of it he half-crushed Duo before he got his wits back enough to hear his lover gasping for him to let go. Heero released him and Duo fell back onto the floor, rubbing his shoulder and laughing. He had cum on his chin and down the front of his shirt.  
  
"Sorry," Heero gasped out, still breathless and unable to move. "You OK?"  
  
Duo pulled the neck of his tee shirt aside and showed Heero the dark bite mark on his shoulder, and the reddening marks where Heero's fingers had clenched on the soft flesh of his inner arm. "Damn, Heero. I think maybe you better lighten up on the strength training. You're kinda rough when you're turned on."  
  
"Sorry!" Heero said again. "You just--just--"  
  
"Yeah, I know," Duo chuckled, climbing back up to cuddle. "I'm too sexy for my own good. Or safety. Maybe I should tie your hands next time, huh?"  
  
Heero gasped as a spasm of pleasure rocked his spent body.   
  
"So you like that, too!" Duo kissed his way up Heero's sweaty neck to the corner of his mouth. "Oh, baby, you are my favorite toy!"  
  
And that was the last thing Heero remembered before he woke up half-naked under a blanket on the couch. The room was dark except for the fire crackling in the fireplace, and he could smell something delicious cooking in the kitchen, something with beef and onions and garlic. He could hear pots and pans rattling and Duo's happy, off key singing. "'I know you love me. I see the signs. Don't even have to read between the lines. Ooooooooo baby! How you tease 'n please. Makes me holler, makes me weak in the knees! Shake me baby, then hold on tight. Gonna rock your world the whole damn night!'"  
  
It took a concerted effort for Heero to get up and haul his pants on, and his knees were noticeably weak as he made his way to the kitchen. The bright light there made him blink for a moment, and then he burst out laughing.   
  
Duo was at the stove, stirring some sort of stew while dancing and singing along with the radio. He jeans and a clean tee shirt, and the most absurdly frilly sheer organza apron, tied with an enormous floppy bow in back. His braid swung and bumped against it as he shuffled and fast-stepped, dancing with his stewpot partner. At Heero's laugh, he left the stove and danced over to him, still singing. "Shake me, break me, sexy baby. Gonna spread your wings, an' I don' mean maybe. Take me, shake me, don' never fake me. Gonna rock your world alllllll night long!"  
  
Heero grabbed him and danced him around the kitchen to the lengthy guitar and drum duet and final chorus. Duo broke away when it ended just long enough to stir the pot and fetch them both a cold soda from the fridge. Heero dropped into a kitchen chair and pulled Duo down to sit sideways on his lap.   
  
He settled happily, swinging his bare feet like a little kid. "So, sleep good?"  
  
"Very good. You rocked my world--three times in one day."  
  
"Day's not over yet, baby!" Duo said with an evil grin.  
  
"Hn. You also made me miss my appointment with Dr. Batoosingh."  
  
"No problemo. I traded with you. You can have my appointment tomorrow."  
  
"Ah, good."  
  
"I told him about last night."  
  
Heero looked up at him surprise. They did not usually discuss what went on in their private sessions. He also squirmed a little inwardly, wondering what the psychiatrist had made of his actions.  
  
"Don't worry, he already knows how screwed up I am," Duo told him. He took a drink from his soda. "He described your tactics as 'creative' and 'probably therapeutic'. His exact words. He also said I'm kinda on the manic side today, but he's not worried about it as long as I stay on my meds. Which I will, promise!"  
  
Heero ran a finger under the frilly pink band of the apron. "And is this part of you being manic?"  
  
Duo pretended to pout. "Master doesn't like?"  
  
"Master can barely walk, if that's what you're up to."  
  
"Naw, just thought you'd get a kick out of it. The guys and I found it in a drawer last time we were here. Kat says it's called a 'hostess apron'. You should see me in it with nothing else underneath! Or him, for that matter. That'll give you naughty thoughts for sure, I bet!" He grinned and wiggled a little on Heero's knee. "Sure it doesn't turn you on, just a little?"  
  
"I think I'll stick with the harem fantasy for now, thanks. You looked very cute in pink, by the way."  
  
"Oooooo, I'll bet! I had you in one of those Lawrence of Arabia get ups, with a big ol' whip handy in case I got outta line."  
  
"Did you tell Dr. B about that?"  
  
"No, he had enough to handle as it was. Bet you'll have a fun time with him tomorrow."  
  
"I don't think I'll be able to look him in the eye. But I'll manage. What smells so good?"  
  
"I cooked! You know I'm manic when I cook instead of just opening a can. Tonight's specialty is beef stew a la Maxwell. Which means I cut up a steak and threw in everything else that seemed like a good idea at the time. Good thing for us I couldn't get the anchovies open. I found some cooking sherry in a cupboard and threw some of that in, but I didn't drink any. Shinigami's honor!"  
  
Manic or not, Duo made a very good beef stew. By the time they started on second helpings, he'd calmed down a little. "Today was fun, but are we any closer to solving the Trowa problem?"  
  
"Actually, I had an idea when I woke up," Heero told him. "Trowa learns best though physical lessons, right?"  
  
"You are _not_ \--"  
  
"No, no sex with Trowa. But sex is something he understands."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Heero smiled. "What time are they planning on arriving on Thursday?"  
  
"Around four, I think. It'll depend on traffic out of Boston."  
  
"I will need you naked, horny, and manic by three thirty."  
  
Duo's brows shot up. "Naked and-- Say what?"  
  
Heero patted Duo on his organza and frill-covered thigh. "Trust me, Duo. I'm the one with the high body-kinesthetic intelligence here, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The differing types of intelligence Heero and Duo discuss come from research done in the '80s by Dr. Howard Gardner, who posited that differing types of intelligence require various creative teaching philosophies. It remains controversial, but I think it makes a lot of sense. For a very simplified outline of the types, see:  
> www.rb-29.net/graa/GRAATMI%20Pgm./TMIPgmPgs/eightwayspkg/00.508ways.htm< br />  
> For more info see: http://www.thomasarmstrong.com/multiple_intelligences.htm
> 
> My application of these types to the G-Boys is pure conjecture on my part.
> 
> 2\. The song Duo is singing is an original I wrote for the story. I mean, it's hundreds of years in the future, right? So why are most fan fic characters listening to our version of classic rock/techno/alternative/etc. Doesn't anyone still write music in the future. Yes, I say! And people will still like the blues and the blues will still be all about sex and the lyrics will still make very little sense unless you listen with a dirty mind.
> 
> Although I'm sure you'll be able buy Indigo Girls and Flock of Seagulls CDs on eBay then. Some things don't change. Heero probably gets dozens of spams in his email, too ('cause even Heero "super hacker" Yuy won't be able to outsmart all the spammers, may they all rot in hell forever.) He'll get tearful bogus requests for that money laundering scheme from Nigeria (which Heero wisely ignores), and breast and penis enlargement offers (he laughs and deletes those) and Viagra knock offs (deletes those, but on Duo's manic days he occasionally wonders if it will eventually come to that, just to keep up with the little horn dog) and links to "hot and horny naked GIRLZ ON GIRLZ" sites. (He growls and goes 'Hn' a lot and deletes those, too.) Duo always clicks on those links, which is why he gets more spam than anyone in the group. Wufei will be the only who has an "Adult ID" code, under a fake name of course, and he's all secretly ashamed of himself for needing it and doesn't want anyone to know of course. Most of the sites he surfs feature "Hot young-" Well, you'll see.


	37. Tao and Shakespeare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

For the next three mornings Wufei brought his wooden practice swords to the gym, and for three days Peacecraft ignored him, even asking one of the other security men to act as his spotter during weight training. He paid little attention to him during their daily rides, either, and gave him the silent treatment during the evenings Wufei was on duty.   
  
Wufei bided his time, and gave no sign that he was aware of the intended slight. He was polite and punctual as always, and kept his distance. But he also made a point of performing his own fitness ritual in the gym, rather than the garden, where Peacecraft could see. He did his morning katas, practiced fighting kicks and flips, and even showboated a little, doing one-handed pushups and hand stands. In the evenings when they had played chess, they now faced off silently in the library, each with a book, and the hours crawled by.   
  
Wufei made good use of the time. He redevoted himself to the Tao, and ordered volumes of poetry. Much to his surprise, this attracted Peacecraft's attention one evening. After an hour or so of silence between them on evening, Peacecraft tossed his book aside and wandered to the window overlooking the moonlit garden. His soft slippers and silk dressing gown whispered softly as he moved. As he passed Wufei's chair, he glanced down as if by chance.   
  
"You read Mandarin?"  
  
Wufei removed his reading glasses and looked up. "Yes. Do you?"  
  
"No."  
  
And that was the extent of their conversation. However, the following morning Peacecraft completed his own exercise regime, then walked over to where Wufei sat meditating after his katas.  
  
Wufei was aware of him but gave no sign, instead observing the man from under half-lowered lids. Peacecraft was uncomfortable, uneasy, and perhaps impatient. Yet he did not interrupt Wufei, as he had every right to do under the circumstances. He stood a few feet away, awaiting notice, and Wufei saw him raise his right arm in a characteristic gesture; he'd unconsciously tried to fold his arms, as a man might when waiting for another to finish with something. The scarred stump of his left arm twitched as well, trying to carry out the habit of a lifetime. Peacecraft caught himself and turned away, running his right hand back through his hair instead and Wufei felt an unexpected pang of compassion.   
  
He held his position a moment longer, to preserve the illusion that he had not seen. Then, raising his head, he pressed his palms together before his heart and gave Peacecraft a slight bow, silently concentrating on the deeper meaning of the gesture. "My enlightened self salutes your enlightened self." It was a greeting of respect between equals.  
  
Taken aback by this, Peacecraft returned the gesture in the form of a small stiff bow, in the manner of his people.  
  
"May I be of service?" asked Wufei.   
  
Peacecraft nudged the equipment bag with the toe of his sneaker. "Do you really mean for us to duel with sticks?"   
  
Wufei rose in a single fluid motion, unzipped the bag, and drew out the two modified wooden practice weapons he'd acquired. They were made of oak and carefully weighted, like Japanese bokken, but one was shaped to approximate Wufei's traditional Chinese sword, the other as an OZ military saber like the ones Kushreneda and Peacecraft had carried during the war. Both were single edged weapons, of similar lengths and suitable for sparring.  
  
He presented the saber hilt-first to Peacecraft, who took it without comment. That face betrayed nothing but the usual mask of boredom, but Wufei thought he saw a flash of something more in those intensely blue eyes.   
  
Peacecraft took a few half-hearted practice swings, and then let his arm drop. "What is the point?"  
  
"Some of the finest Wu-Yi sword masters never saw battle," Wufei told him. "The purpose of a warrior is not to kill or to fight, but to perfect himself in body and mind so as to be ready for any situation. The sword is no more than a tool in that pursuit."  
  
Peacecraft considered this, then brought the blade up in a challenge salute. "A worthy philosophy. It would, perhaps, pass the time."  
  
They moved out into the open area of the gym, where Wufei had done his katas. Half a dozen attendants gathered to watch, and Wufei paused, frowning slightly in their direction. "Perhaps you would concentrate better, this first time, without distractions? I, for one, do not perform my art as a spectator sport."  
  
"Leave us," Peacecraft ordered imperiously, as if he did not know that Wufei was offering to spare him potential embarrassment.  
  
He had no doubt that Peacecraft had been an accomplished swordsman before the Libra explosion, but as they faced off, he could see that time, the loss of the arm, and perhaps the amount of regenerated, untried muscle he now had, had seriously impaired his abilities. The man's stance showed style and knowledge, but his balance was still off.   
  
In his place, Wufei would have considered any show of pity or accommodation an insult, so he showed none to Peacecraft as they began. Peacecraft tried to take the offensive but Wufei easily parried and disarmed him with a sharp strike just above Peacecraft's hilt, in a blow that must have jarred the man right up to the shoulder.   
  
"My match," Wufei said, stepping back into starting position to let Peacecraft retrieve his weapon.   
  
Peacecraft's jaw was set as he took his stance again. He was more cautious this time, letting Wufei open the offensive and meeting his rush with a respectable defense. But Wufei was far quicker and once again got under his guard and disarmed him, this time finishing with what would have been a killing slash across Peacecraft's belly. He pulled the blow, so as not to hurt him, merely drawing the edge of his blade lightly across the man's unprotected midriff.   
  
"Your match again," Peacecraft rasped.   
  
They faced off a third time, with the same result. This time Peacecraft let his anger show as he ignored the fallen weapon. "Is this what you wanted?" he growled hoarsely. "To show me who the superior swordsman is? You have proven your point. I am finished."  
  
He turned to go, but Wufei threw down his own weapon with a clatter. "You accuse me of dishonorable intent. What sort of dog would measure himself against a man at such a disadvantage, so honorably suffered?"  
  
"Honorably?" Peacecraft spat the word out.   
  
"You forget, I was there. The com channels were open and I heard your last words to Yuy, as you broke off your fight with him to attempt to explode the Libra's engines. At the final moment, you took the most honorable action, at the risk of your own life. So yes, your wounds are honorable ones, to be overcome, perhaps, but never scorned. I did not wish to embarrass you by treating you like a cripple. Only by giving you my best can you achieve yours."  
  
"Indeed?" Peacecraft was skeptical. "Is this the way of Wu-Yi masters?"  
  
"Yes, and the way of all honorable warriors."  
  
Peacecraft's cold mask was firmly back in place, but he picked up the fallen saber and raised it again. "Very well, then. Show me your best."  
  
They went at it for nearly an hour that day, and Wufei purposefully gave no quarter. By the end Peacecraft was badly winded and had bruises on his arm, ribs, and back. Wufei's only concession had been to carefully avoid striking the stump of his left arm, although he did observe it as they fought.   
  
It was a bit disturbing, watching that tapered stump move. The skin was shiny and striated with darkened scar tissue. But there was working muscle there, and Wufei could tell that Peacecraft was unconsciously moving it, as he would have if the arm were whole. It did him no good this way, of course. The lack of balance became glaringly obvious in this context and Peacecraft seemed to have made little adjustment for it in the way he moved.  
  
"Enough!" Peacecraft declared at last. He saluted Wufei, then tossed the dented wooden saber and strode off.  
  
But the following morning they sparred again, and the next and with each session Peacecraft's impatience with himself became more evident. Toward the end of their fourth session together Wufei scored a flat bladed hit on his belly again and Peacecraft lost his temper. With a muttered curse and blazing eyes, he tossed the blade away and stalked from the room. Wufei sighed, gathered his equipment, and went to shower.   
  
+  
  
Peacecraft appeared more morose than ever that evening as they sat by the library fire.   
  
Wufei read stoically, until the other man rose and began to pace. He tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. Laying his book and reading glasses aside, he followed the man with his eyes until Peacecraft noticed him watching.   
  
"You have something to say?" he snapped, tugging irritably at the sash of his dressing gown.   
  
"You are frustrated," Wufei observed.  
  
Peacecraft let out a harsh, husky laugh. "And how am I to feel, little Chang?"  
  
'Ah, back to that, are we?' Wufei thought, but refused to be drawn. Instead, he folded his hands and recited,   
  
_"'A good warrior is not bellicose,_  
 _A good fighter does not anger,_  
 _A good conqueror does not contest his enemy,_  
 _One who is good at using others puts himself below them._  
 _This is called integrity without competition,_  
 _This is called using others,_  
 _This is called parity with heaven._  
 _The pinnacle of the ancients.'"_  
  
Peacecraft had stopped pacing. "You know the Tao. They kept up with the old culture, on L-5?"  
  
"Some did. I was a student before the war."  
  
Peacecraft turned to gaze out at the darkened garden. "Let me guess. Tactics? Military History?"  
  
"No." Wufei turned back to his book, but watched the man from the corner of one eye. Peacecraft was still restless, perhaps even curious, but trying very hard not to show it. He went to the tall window and breathed on the windowpane, drawing little designs with one finger like a bored child.   
  
Wufei offered nothing, no opening, and no encouragement. Let the proud fellow speak to him, if he wanted entertainment.  
  
"Engineering of some sort?" Peacecraft murmured after a moment.  
  
Wufei fought back a smirk. "No."  
  
"Mathematics, then."  
  
"No."  
  
"You have me at a disadvantage," Peacecraft rasped. It was hard to read the tone of that damaged voice. Wufei wasn't certain if he heard amusement or impatience. "If I could read the title of that book you are pretending to be so engrossed in, I might have a better chance."  
  
"You could just ask me." Wufei glanced up and caught the other man watching him.   
  
Peacecraft looked a little startled. A faint pink tinge rose in his pale cheeks and he looked away, back at the garden. "Very well. What did you study, Chang?"  
  
No "little" this time, Wufei noted. "Philosophy and poetry. Practitioners of Wu-Yi hold the arts in great esteem, as well as combat."  
  
Peacecraft nodded slowly. "Our training at the Academy was much the same. Tell me, do you find any comfort in poetry now?"  
  
"Sometimes. Do you?"  
  
It was difficult in profile to tell if Peacecraft smiled or grimaced at that. "I understand certain poems better now than I did when I was younger." He paused, and when he spoke again, reciting, there was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. "'Those who have crossed with direct eyes, to death's other kingdom remember us--if at all--not as lost violent souls, but only as the hollow men, the stuffed men.' That's 20th century, Thomas Stearns Eliot."  
  
Wufei did not recognize the verse or the poet, but supposed Peacecraft was thinking of Kushreneda, and all the others who had found warrior's deaths, while the rest of them lived on uselessly. It was a good poem.   
  
_"'When I was young I learned fencing'"_ he quoted,   
_"'And was better at it than General Crooked Castle._  
 _My spirit was high as the rolling clouds_  
 _And my fame resounded beyond the world._  
 _I took my sword to the desert sands,_  
 _I watered my horse at the Nine Moors._  
 _My flags and banners flapped in the wind,_  
 _And nothing was heard but the song of my drums._  
 _War and its travels have made me sad,_  
 _And a fierce anger burns within me._  
 _It's thinking of how I've wasted my time_  
 _That makes this fury tear my heart.'_ Yuan Chi. Third century. _"_  
  
Peacecraft let out another hoarse laugh. "How very apt. Will you give me another?"  
  
Wufei nodded. _"Keep off your thoughts from things that are past and done;_  
 _For thinking of the past wakes regret and pain._  
 _Keep off your thoughts from thinking what will happen;_  
 _To think of the future fills one with dismay._  
 _Better by day to sit like a sack in your chair;_  
 _Better by night to lie a stone in your bed._  
 _When food comes, then open your mouth;_  
 _When sleep comes, then close your eyes.' Po-Chi-i. Eighth century."_  
  
That won him an unmistakable scowl. "Offering advice again, little Chang? Then I must counter with Shakespeare. Perhaps you've heard of him?   
_"'Be thou wise as thou art cruel; do not press_  
 _My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;_  
 _Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express_  
 _The manner of my pity-wanting pain._  
 _If I might teach thee wit, better it were,_  
 _Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;-_  
 _As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,_  
 _No news but health from their physicians know;-_  
 _For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,_  
 _And in my madness might speak ill of thee:_  
 _Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,_  
 _Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be._  
 _That I may not be so, nor thou belied,_  
 _Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.'"_  
  
Wufei stood and bowed. "I meant no offense. It was a poem I have been meditating on for my own enlightenment over the past few days, and it simply sprang to mind. It's late and I've wearied you. I will leave you to your own thoughts."  
  
He started for the door, but Peacecraft surprised him. "A moment, Chang. Perhaps one more? Your recitation is natural and pleasing, regardless of the theme. One more, for me to meditate upon?"  
  
"Very well. _'Chastised at evening, the night knew my tears._  
 _Happiness as far from my hand as the faint blue glimmer of Earth._  
 _But now the morning has turned,_  
 _Gleaming on the white stones in the garden,_  
 _Glancing from the polished blades in the sword rack._  
 _How can I cling to sorrow with the smell of breakfast on the air_  
 _And my teacher waiting?'_ A poet of no account, second century After Colony."  
  
Peacecraft arched one fine pale brow, then bowed slightly with perhaps just the hint of a smile. "Thank you. The poet shows some skill. Good night, Chang."  
  
Wufei bowed. "Peacecraft."   
  
He turned to go, only to be stopped again by the sound a heavy sigh.  
  
"I wonder, Chang-?" Peacecraft paused, then sighed again. Again Wufei saw him make the sad, fruitless attempt at crossing his arms. "That name does not sit comfortably on me. Not anymore. Would you do me the favor, in private, of addressing me as Zechs?"  
  
"That is your given name." Wufei would never have considered being so familiar.  
  
But Peacecraft regarded him rather sadly. "I am no one's superior and all my friends are either dead or cut off from me. I would count it as a particular kindness to hear it at least from you, who knew me as the man I was. One name is as good as another, isn't it?"  
  
Wufei concentrated a moment, then quoted,  
_"'Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,_  
 _Is the immeditate jewel of their souls:_  
 _Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;_  
 _'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;_  
 _But he that filches from me my good name_  
 _Robs me of that which not enriches him_  
 _And makes me poor indeed.'_ Othello, Act three, scene three, sixteenth century."  
  
"Touche! I bow to your scholarship. But all the more reason I would be Zechs rather than Milliardo."  
  
"As you will. Good night--Zechs Merquise."  
  
"Good night, Chang."


	38. Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Relena arrived the following afternoon to dine with her brother. It was not by his invitation. Wufei could tell by his level of distraction at sword practice that morning that he was not looking forward to his sister's arrival. As soon as they had completed their exercises Zech disappeared, still silent and abstracted.  
  
Relena arrived at eleven, wearing a silk tea dress and gloves and looking more girlish and relaxed than she did on the news. She was a striking and driven young woman, and appeared to be thriving in her dual roles as titular head of the Sanque government and the ESUN diplomat. Hardly a day went by that she was not in the news, speaking at world conferences or delivering new policy statements.   
  
"Wufei, Sally! How are you?" she exclaimed, striding into the reception hall and shaking hands with them as if they were friends of the family, rather than hired watchdogs. She looked around, clearly puzzled by her brother's absence. "But where is our host? Am I early?"  
  
"He must still be getting dressed," Sally told her, trying to smooth out the breach of etiquette. In fact, Zechs was nowhere to be found, and several valets had been dispatched to find the wayward "host." He turned up on his own fifteen minutes late and joined them as they sat in the garden, making strained small talk over their tea.  
  
Wufei and Sally had both put on dress uniform for the occasion. Zechs strolled out in jeans and a blue button down shirt with the left sleeve pinned up, as if to draw attention to the missing arm. It was the most casually dressed Wufei had seen the man, who usually favored tailored slacks and designer sweaters.  
  
"Well, here you are, you tardy fellow!" Relena said brightly, apparently expecting some explanation.  
  
"Where else would I be?" Zechs muttered. But he did offer her his arm and escort her into the dining room, where the first course was being laid for them. Unlike their usual simple meals here, the number of different wine glasses and various forks laid out at each place promised a long and complex meal. Relena had no doubt sent orders ahead; Zechs' tastes were far simpler and had suited Wufei better than the heavy cuisine that followed now.  
  
Relena chattered brightly through the first two courses and Sally did her best to fill in the awkward pauses when Zechs failed to join in. Wufei watched the two siblings with interest. They had not grown up together, of course, and apart from the pale shining hair and vivid blue eyes, they could have been two strangers thrown together at some function. Relena was her usual forthright self, doing her best to draw her brother out despite his obvious lack of interest in anything she had to say. Zechs was withdrawn to the point of rudeness, picking at his food and answering tersely only when he had no other choice.  
  
"Oh, did you see this? Quatre Winner sent it to me. Apparently he's backing a circus company." She drew a colorful oversized holocard from her purse and showed it to them. Wufei recognized the advertisement for Trowa's circus. Quatre had sent him one, too, though Wufei had still not responded to the email invitation.   
  
The upper half of the glossy card featured the name and touring dates for the main show, against a bright orange and yellow sunburst background and bordered with colorful red and blue designs. The lower half of the sheet was printed in black, blue and silver, bordered in silver crescent moons and stars, and announced the debut of something called Circus della Notte, with the single line: "Wonders, mysteries, and secrets purveyed for discerning minds. No one under 18 admitted." The illustrations were elegantly done by hand, and Wufei had noted a tiny artist's signature hidden in the lower right hand corner, a faint silvery hologram: "QW-B."  
  
Evidently Relena did not know of the Winner heir's level of involvement with the traveling show. Wufei saw no reason to enlighten her. He noticed that Relena neglected to acknowledge his married name.  
  
Zechs's lips twitched into a brief smile. "His husband Barton--" he stressed the word husband and Wufei saw that sharp-edged smile again as a hint of color rose in his sister's cheeks. "I believe he is one of the headline acts."   
  
But of course; Zechs had known Trowa during the war, spent time with him on the journey to Antarctica with Yuy for that first duel. And it seemed he had followed what had happened with the other two pilots after the war. Wufei wondered if Zechs kept track of all of them, and if he knew as much about the rest of them as he did about him. Perhaps he was even pleased with the sexual preferences that had emerged among them. He certainly seemed to enjoy throwing it in his sister's face. "They were married, you know, on L-2. Lucky fellows."  
  
"Yes, I understand they are very happy," Sally put in, shooting Wufei a covert glance. Was she siding with Zechs against Relena?   
  
The arrival of dessert broke the tension for a while. Relena recovered her composure over the sorbet and quickly changed the subject. "Milliardo, I understand you have taken up fencing again." She was smiling, but there was a distinct hint of disapproval in her tone.  
  
"You are well-informed, as always," he rasped. "So I suppose you know that it was at Captain Chang's insistence?"  
  
Relena turned that intense gaze on Wufei. "Do you really think that is wise, Wufei? In this new era, wouldn't my brother's time be better spent in more creative pursuits?"  
  
"It is a physical artform--" Wufei began, but Zechs cut him off.  
  
"What sort of creative pursuits would you suggest, Relena?" he asked, voice dripping sarcasm. "Perhaps I could take up china painting, or landscape design? Would that be a more productive use of my valuable time? Do you think I might be able to fit piano lessons or maybe opera singing into my very busy schedule?"  
  
"There's no need--"  
  
"Tell me, Relena, just how long is my sentence?" Zechs ate a spoonful of sorbet with more relish than he'd shown through the meal and regarded her with a hint of dark amusement.   
  
"Your sentence? Whatever do you mean?"  
  
Those hard blue eyes narrowed. "You've set up a very pretty doll house, sister, with every amenity a gentleman of leisure could desire, stored up and ready for me whenever I should think to ask for it. A pacifist gentleman, at any rate, or perhaps an elderly lady. Do you know how I filled my days before?"  
  
"Of course I do," she replied with a pained look. "But those times are past now. There is no need for battle and the arts of war."  
  
"I wasn't referring to that. Do you know what I did when I wasn't fighting?" When this seemed to stymie her he went on, clearly savoring her confusion. "Of course you don't. You were busy being the rich and pampered Darlian heir, weren't you? I wasn't so lucky, not at first. I was spirited away by a less kindly benefactor, one with political aspirations. I changed my name and hid my face to escape him, and to work my way into the very organizations responsible for the death of our family. But it wasn't all work and war training. I traveled, Relena. I dined out and went dancing and took lovers. I rode motorcycles. I hiked for days in the wilderness and hunted. I did not sit around on my ass in a gilded cage, day after day."  
  
Relena set her claret glass down slowly, lips pursed in a determined line. Wufei suspected she'd been anticipating this conversation. "You are here for your own safety, Milliardo. You know that."  
  
"Safety!" he spat. "Is my continued existence so terribly valuable that I must hunker down in useless boredom and solitude? You've banned my few remaining friends from visiting. You've given orders to the gatemen to keep me from bringing in any-- entertainment, and hand-picked the servants and guards for their sexual frigidity."   
  
"Milliardo!" Relena shot a warning look in Wufei and Sally's direction, but Zechs simply took that as challenge to include them in this family argument.  
  
"My sister hopes to reclaim me, you see. I'm to bide my time quietly here, like a good boy, so that perhaps in time people will forget my sins. Perhaps I'm to step forward at some undetermined point in history, sanitized and duly contrite, and take my place in--- In what, Relena? Am I to be king of Sanque after all? Do you think the good people of this gentle land will ever forgive me for the blood on my hands? For the sins I incurred in order to reclaim this silly little country's place in the world? Will they understand why I had to hunt down and kill the man who murdered our parents, our brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins in cold blood, Relena? Will they ever understand that Sanque would have ceased to exist, been ground under the heel of the Alliance, if I had not chosen to fight them on their own terms?"  
  
"That's enough!" Relena snapped.  
  
"Apparently it wasn't," Zechs snarled. "No, now I must be punished and apologized for and hidden away like an embarrassing, deformed child in the attic, so as not to cause any discomfort to the good people I sacrificed myself to protect." He pointed at Wufei and Sally. "They know what it is to take on the filth of battle, so that others may live in their dream of peace. They know the cost. How many people did your darling Heero Yuy slaughter to protect you, Relena? How many times over would you have died if he hadn't been willing to do your killing for you?"  
  
"Stop it!" Relena pressed her hands over her ears for a moment, then recovered and smoothed her hair. "What is it you want, Milliardo? A parade? Medals and accolades? You talk of sacrifice and noble battle, but you nearly destroyed the world. Are they to thank you for that? What do you want?"  
  
"You're right, of course. I did lose my way in the end," Zechs growled. "It would have been much kinder, and far more politically astute of you to have simply let me die when you had the chance. It's so much easier to retrofit a dead man into the role of tragic hero. I'm certain you could have crafted a memory worthy of the Peacecraft name. Keeping me here like this, I remain an embarrassment and burden."  
  
"You could be rotting in prison right now!"  
  
"I am!"   
  
Sally rose and bowed. "If you will excuse me, I have duties to attend to. Wufei, I need a word with you about perimeter security."  
  
Thankful for the white lie, Wufei took his leave.  
  
"My god, that was worse than last time!" Sally groaned as soon as they were out of earshot.   
  
"He's right, you know," Wufei said. "She's taken a tiger by the tail, protecting him. No one will thank her for it, least of all him."  
  
"You seem to have found a way to deal with him, at least."  
  
"I simply took your advice and challenged him. If nothing else, it gives him something to think about besides being trapped. In his place I'd go mad."  
  
+  
  
The rest of the family visit must not have gone much better, for Relena left at mid-afternoon and Zechs disappeared again. A little later Wufei caught sight of him in the distance across the gardens, riding hard astride one of the estate thoroughbreds. He looked like a man trying to outrun demons.  
  
He didn't appear for dinner and Wufei didn't expect to see him again that day, but to his surprise Zechs wandered into the library at the usual time that evening as Wufei sat reading, still dressed in his mud-spattered jeans.   
  
"Your fencing lessons are already bearing fruit," he said, dropping into an armchair by the chessboard. "I'm riding well, with better balance. I even managed a few jumps."  
  
"It would be better still if you replaced the arm."   
  
To his surprise, Zechs nodded as he began setting up the chess pieces for a game. "I'm considering it. Come, let's see if you can put up a better fight tonight."  
  
It was the first time in days they'd played. Wufei endeavored to out think him, but Zechs mind was clearly not on the game. Wufei won the first one and Zechs saluted him, and then set the pieces up again.  
  
"Am I prisoner here?" he asked as Wufei made his opening move. "Can I leave the grounds if I choose to, or do you have orders to stop me?"  
  
"I have no such orders. I am to protect you."  
  
"From what? The gardeners? From getting a splinter from the billiard cues?" Zechs scoffed. "You must be a bored as I am."  
  
"I keep my mind occupied."  
  
"Ah, so you're satisfied with this pampered life, are you? Or are you hiding?" Oddly, the words did not come out as a challenge or an insult, as they might have a week earlier. Zechs merely sounded weary. They played a few turns in silence, and then Zechs said, "I have a poem for you, in honor of my dear sister's visit. You're familiar with Byron?"  
  
"Eighteenth century romantic poet, and a noted libertine."   
  
"Yes, but libertines live rather fully, don't they?"   
  
" _'So, we'll go no more a roving  
So late into the night,  
Though the heart be still as loving,  
And the moon be still as bright.  
  
For the sword outwears its sheath,  
And the soul wears out the breast,  
And the heart must pause to breathe,  
And love itself have rest.  
  
Though the night was made for loving,  
And the day returns too soon,  
Yet we'll go no more a roving  
By the light of the moon.'_  
  
"Is that you, Chang? It sure as hell isn't me. Has your sword so outworn its sheath that you are content to rot and rust here like this? Has it been out of the sheath at all?"  
  
"I'm not certain I fully understand what the poet is referring to," Wufei replied, not comfortable with the way Zechs was smiling at him.  
  
"Have you ever been in love, Chang?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then your affair with our lovely Sally, that was not simply physical relief?"  
  
"I was not speaking of Sally, nor will I, out of respect for her."  
  
"Then who?"  
  
"I was married before the war. Did your intelligence not include that fact?"  
  
"An arranged marriage, I believe, to a child bride. You were too young--"  
  
"For some things, certainly, but not to know love. I did come to love her, without the need for base congress."  
  
Zechs chuckled. "'Base congress,' eh? So you've had love without sex and sex without love. Poor Chang!"  
  
"Are you back to baiting me again?"  
  
"No, I'm interested. You currently have the distinction of being the only person in this entire miniature kingdom of mine who does interest me." He reached into a pocket and pulled out the folded advertisement for the circus. "Your friends have found love, it seems, and managed not to lose it. According to rumor, Barton and Winner were something of an item even back during the war. And now they are joined as one. Very romantic, don't you think?"  
  
"It's of no consequence to me," Wufei answered tersely, wondering where this was leading. "And I believe I have you in check."  
  
Zechs blithely blocked with his queen. "And I suppose you must know about Yuy and Maxwell?"  
  
Wufei kept his expression carefully neutral as he countered with his black knight.  
  
"That was a bit of surprise, I must admit," Zechs went on. "Not just that Yuy is gay, mind you, but that he is capable of any emotion at all. What a strange, dark little fellow he was, but what a warrior! I admired him tremendously. Barton made less of an impression, as I recall. Practically mute. He seemed more a follower, or maybe he was just panting after Yuy, eh? Did they keep each other warm, back then?"  
  
"Not to my knowledge."   
  
"Did anyone keep you warm, Chang?"  
  
Something in Zechs's tone made him look up, only to find himself pinned by the intent regard of those eyes. Zechs expression was neither cruel nor baiting; that he could have ignored. No this was intense, somewhat amused interest and he found himself blushing as he looked hastily back down at the chess board. "I had no need of such--distractions. I was focused on my training, and on my mission."  
  
"Distractions?" Zechs chuckled. "Interesting choice of words. I thought of it more as a diversion, something to rest the mind and clear the palate between battles."  
  
"I thought Kushreneda had no interest in men?" Two could play at this game.   
  
He'd rather thought Zechs might take offense or get angry, but he only shook his head. "Your intelligence is correct, Chang. That was the great unrequited love of my life, but the friendship we shared more than made up for it. No, I was speaking of love in Byron's fleshly sense; the little death that lets you know you're still alive. My sister sees to it that I'm cut off from such diversions here, 'though the heart be still as loving, and the moon be still as bright.' Do you know any good bawdy poems, Chang? Did the ancient Chinese write of such things?"  
  
"If they did they would not have been included in my course of study. But love and passion? Of course."  
  
"Let's have one, then. I could do with some lighter thoughts tonight."  
  
"Very well." Love poetry had never interested him, but there were some that were considered classic and worthy of memory. "'My bed is so empty that I keep waking up. As the cold increases, the night-wind begins to blow. It rustles the curtains, making a noise like the sea: Oh that those were waves that could carry me back to you.'"  
  
"Brrr! Come now, surely you can do better than that! Back to Bryon, then.   
" _'He walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in his aspect and his eyes;  
Thus mellowed to that tender light  
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.'_  
  
"I am familiar with that one. You have changed the gender of the poem's subject."  
  
Zechs shrugged. "Did I? Well, Byron swung both ways, they say, so I'm sure he wouldn't mind. It has more juice than yours did, anyway."  
  
"Juice? Is that a literary term I am not familiar with? Well, here's another.  
" _'I heard at night your long sighs  
And knew that you were thinking of me.'  
As she spoke, the doors of Heaven opened  
And our souls conversed and I saw her face,  
She set me a pillow to rest on  
And she brought me meat and drink.  
  
I stood beside her where she lay,  
But suddenly woke and she was not there;  
And none knew how my soul was torn,  
How the tears fell surging over my breast._ "  
  
Zechs raised an eyebrow. "Your own work, for your dead wife?"  
  
"No, it was written by Tsang Chih, sixth century, but you are correct in the subject."  
  
Zechs shook his head. "Then you won't be insulted when I tell you that you need to get out more, Chang. Or at least broaden your studies. You're how old? Eighteen? Nineteen? And that's all you can come up with? Andrew Marvel for you, seventeenth century."  
  
He sat back and pinned Wufei with those eyes again and his rough, hoarse voice took on a richer timbre.  
" _'The grave's a fine and private place,  
But none I think do there embrace.  
Now therefore, while the youthful hue  
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,  
And while thy willing Soul transpires  
At every pore with instant Fires,  
Now let us sport us while we may;  
And now, like amorous birds of prey,  
Rather at once our Time devour,  
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.  
Let us roll all our Strength, and all  
Our sweetness, up into one Ball:  
And tear our Pleasures with rough strife,  
Through the Iron gates of Life.  
Thus, though we cannot make our Sun  
Stand still, yet we will make him run.'_ "  
  
The delivery was flawless. The language was somewhat archaic, but Zechs's insinuating, sensual nuance and the look in his eye left no doubt in Wufei's mind what the poet was proposing. "That one sounds well practiced, Zechs. Did you use it as a pick up line?"  
  
Zechs was still looking at him with that slightly predatory expression. "Only on scholars."   
  
Startled, Wufei knocked over his king as he reached to move his bishop.  
  
"Conceding already, are we, Chang?"  
  
Wufei righted the king. "Never."  
  
Zechs chuckled and turned his attention to the game. He won again, and rather easily. Wufei could not seem to marshal his thoughts.   
  
Zechs glanced at the clock on the mantle. "Ten thirty. I remember when I started my evening now, instead of toddling off like an old man to my bed." He let out a growling sigh. "I don't suppose you have any casual clothing?"  
  
"Why do you ask?"  
  
"Because we are going out, you and I, and your uniform will be rather conspicuous."  
  
"Out?"   
  
"You heard my sister. I'm not under house arrest. This isn't a prison, or so she would have me believe. Protective custody, eh? So come along and protect me, Chang. I'll meet you with the car out front. Slip into something more comfortable and be there in ten minutes, or I'll go without you." With that he strode off to his own room, leaving Wufei staring stupidly after him. The tables had suddenly been turned, and he wasn't even sure how it had happened. They were going out? Nothing in his orders gave him the right to stop the man, but it would be a clear dereliction of duty to let him go alone.   
  
"Damn the man!" he growled, hurrying to change. And what in the name of the seven circles of hell constituted 'casual dress' under such circumstances? He found himself picturing Maxwell, but he'd never owned a pair of jeans in his life. And wasn't it a fine state of affairs when his touchstone was suddenly "what would Maxwell do?" Pawing through his meager wardrobe, he found a pair of black twill slacks and a white Mandarin collar shirt. He threw them on hastily; hopping one legged into the trousers as he dialed Sally on his cell phone.   
  
"We're going out somewhere," he told her, wresting his zipper up.  
  
"Out?" She sounded surprised, but not shocked. "Where? What's going on?"  
  
"He's restless and testing the boundaries. I don't think I can stop him so I'm going with him."  
  
"Copy that, Wufei. Keep me apprised. I'll shadow."  
  
"Good idea." And one he should have thought of himself. Damn that man! He found himself left with the choice of his dress shoes, sandals, or riding boots for footwear. He opted for the shoes and dashed for the front drive.   
  
Zechs was waiting for him, hunched like a getaway driver behind the wheel of a black Porsche ZX29 roadster. It was a stick shift, Wufei noted with dismay. Fortunately the driver's seat was on the left, American style. Zechs had changed into black jeans and boots, and had on a red tank top under a black leather jacket. A dark baseball style cap pulled low over his face, and a pair of tinted glasses made him look like--well, very much like Zechs Merquise in a half-assed disguise.   
  
Zechs regarded him with equal disapproval as he slid into the passenger seat. "Good god, Chang, you look like a Chinese waiter! Is that the best you can do?"  
  
"I wasn't planning on much of a night life when I packed for this assignment," Wufei snapped, then grabbed for the armrest as Zechs threw the car into gear and roared for the gate.   
  
"What do you have on under that appalling shirt?"  
  
"An undershirt, of course."   
  
"What color. One of those colonial things with the strap shoulders?"  
  
"Yes. It's black, why?"  
  
"So unbutton your shirt."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Just do it, Chang. I don't need you being any more conspicuous than you already are."  
  
Wufei reluctantly unbuttoned the high-necked shirt and let the tails hang. At least the undershirt was a new one, not faded and stretched out like most of his others. "Where exactly are we going, that I must look like--like this!" He could only imagine what Maxwell would say if he saw him now.  
  
"You'll see. Take your hair down."  
  
"I will do no such thing!"  
  
"Chang! That is your most distinguishing feature. Haven't you ever worked undercover?"  
  
Stung, Wufei grudgingly tugged the tie from the end of his braid and combed his hair out with his fingers. He'd gotten careless about cutting it. It hung well past his shoulders, and became an instant irritant as it blew about in the wind from the open windows.   
  
Zechs must have noticed, because he rolled up the windows at once and grinned out from under the brim of his hat as Wufei tried to straighten it out with his fingers again. "Much better! Your scalp must get sore, tight as you pull your hair back. You'll go bald early, doing that." He tugged at his own ragged shoulder length hair and grinned again. "I had a bit of preview of that myself, after the accident. I don't recommend it."  
  
Wufei slouched down deeper in the soft leather seat, clinging to the armrest again as Zechs reached the winding coastal highway and gunned the roadster along the cliffs at an alarming speed. He seemed to have no problem shifting and steering at the same time. He was fast.   
  
He was a mobile suit pilot, Wufei reminded himself; the man who'd mastered Tallgeese and Epyon. He clung to that thought as Zechs sped up along a straightaway, trying not to think of the sheer cliff drop to their left. As he grew more comfortable with the situation, it occurred to him to wonder just how long Zechs had been paying attention to his hairstyle.  
  
Zechs turned off on the steep and twisty road that led down to the coastal resort town of Le Fleur. They ended up at a loud, smoky dance bar, one in which women seemed in very short supply. In short, a gay club. Zechs waded happily into the crowd and Wufei was surprised to see several young men greet him warmly and in a most familiar fashion.   
  
"Get us a table!" Zechs shouted over the deafening music. "Bacardi and cola for me. Order whatever you want and I'll pay." Grabbing one of the boys who'd greeted him, he disappeared into the crowd.  
  
Furious, Wufei maneuvered himself to a place at the bar where he could see him, and shouted Zechs's drink order to the green-eyed blond behind the bar, adding an ice tea for himself. The man was young and rather pretty in a weak, baby-faced sort of way, with hair almost as long as Zechs's used to be. Aside from that, though, he reminded Wufei more of Winner, but he'd never had Winner look at him like this before.   
  
"Hey gorgeous! Haven't seen you in here before. You with Blondie tonight?"  
  
"No! That is, yes, I'm his--" Yes, Chang, let's blow that cover right away, shall we? a husky, amused voice whispered at the back of his mind. "I'm a friend, from out of town."  
  
"Way out, I'm betting. Colonial, right?" The man actually licked his lips, as if Wufei was something on the dessert cart. "I can always tell a spacer. You got great skin!"   
  
Wufei answered with a level glare, but the bartender just winked and proceeded to show off as he made the drinks, tossing the bottles into the air and flipping lime sections behind his back. Wufei ignored the show, concentrating on keeping Zechs in sight.   
  
"So, just friends, huh?" the bartender persisted, sliding two tall glasses across the bar to him. "He's always come in alone before."  
  
"Before?" That got Wufei's attention. This kid didn't look old enough to have been working here two or three years ago. Hell, Zechs wouldn't have been in Sanque then. "When was he in last?" he asked, grudgingly pretending interest in the young man.   
  
"Uh oh, did I give a way a secret?" He was grinning in an inane manner that made Wufei's hands itch for a short staff or pool cue. "Let's see. Night before last, and twice last week. He made quite an impression. Oh, I did let the cat out of the bag, didn't I? Hey, don't sweat it, pretty eyes. You already got half the room waiting to dance with you, and I get off at two."  
  
Wufei let the man think what he wanted. Zechs had been here *three times* in the past two weeks? Three times he'd left the estate and gotten back in, with no one the wiser? Unless he was bribing the watchmen who were supposed to be reporting to him and Sally. Whatever the case, he'd apparently chosen tonight to rub Wufei's face in it. Angrier than ever, he grabbed his glass and took a deep gulp, then choked as what felt like pure alcohol burned his throat. The bartender laughed and passed him a napkin as he sputtered. "I ordered iced tea!" he snarled, pushing the glass away.  
  
"Long Island ice tea is the only kind we serve here. Specialty of the house. But you gotta go slow. A little cutie like you is gonna feel it faster than that tall drink of champagne you're with."  
  
Wufei didn't wait to hear more. Leaving both drinks on the bar, he stalked into the crowd to extract Merquise for a debriefing. But before he could get to him he saw the man and his dance partner disappearing in the direction of a darkened corridor at the back of the dance hall. Cursing under his breath, Wufei elbowed his way though the press, getting groped and propositioned nearly every step of the way. It slowed him down considerably, and by the time he reached the archway Zechs had been heading for, the pair was nowhere to be seen. Wufei hurried on down a poorly lit corridor lined with small, doorless cubicles. Men in pairs and threesomes leaned against the walls, making out shamelessly. The open doorways of the cubicles revealed activity of a more advanced nature going on inside and Wufei felt a large knot of tension gathering in the pit of his stomach. Gritting his teeth, he glanced through slitted eyes into each of the little rooms until he found exactly what he'd expected.   
  
Zechs was in the last room on the left, jeans around his knees, pounding shamelessly and with great abandon into the ass of the dark-haired young man he had pinned against the wall. There was a full-length mirror on that wall and he saw Zechs register his presence and smile.  
  
Horrified, Wufei sprang back, away from that open doorway, only to stumble into a couple making out against the far wall.   
  
"Hey baby, c'mon in!" a tall man with Alliance tattoos up both muscular arms laughed, pulling him into a shared embrace with another military-type. Wufei fought down panic as hands slipped under the hem of his undershirt and down over the seat of his pants. One of them tried to get a hand down the front of his pants and Wufei went into attack mode, elbowing the man in back of him in the gut and aiming a punch at the tattooed guy's throat. Before he could land the punch--and possibly an attempted murder rap--a strong hand clamped over his wrist and yanked him away from the other men.   
  
Spinning in that grip, ready to take on whoever it was, he found himself face to face with a grinning Zechs Merquise.   
  
"But you--?" He cast a wild confused glance back at the cubicle where he'd just seen him. Zechs was fully dressed now, and not a hair out of place. "But you were just--"  
  
Zechs leaned close, breath tickling Wufei's ear as he whispered, "Why do you think they called me the Lightning Count?"  
  
Wufei pulled free and stumbled back a step. "Fine. If you got what you came for, can we go now?"  
  
"That?" Even behind the tinted lenses, Wufei could see the dangerous amusement in those eyes. "That was just to take the edge off. Come, let's have that drink and dance for a while. The night's young!"  
  
"Absolutely not!"  
  
Zechs pulled the car keys from his pocket and dangled them eloquently out of Wufei's reach. "Fine. You can catch a cab out front. I'll see you back at the house tomorrow."  
  
Unacceptable! Wufei's inner mission voice screamed, but he had little choice but to follow the man back to the bar. To his even greater dismay, he quickly discovered that he was safer at Zechs's side. No one groped him when he appeared to be "Blondie's" date.  
  
Green Eyes had kept their drinks for them. Zechs settled on a stool with his back to the bar and patted the seat next to him. Wufei took it, resigned but glowering. His shame only increased as the meddlesome bartender leaned over and whispered, "Get over it, honey. He's worth it!"  
  
Zechs stayed put just long enough to down his drink, then stood and extended a hand to Wufei, giving him a look that said clearly, 'Entertain me or I'm heading for the back room again.'  
  
Still fuming, Wufei took a cautious gulp of the so-called ice tea, then another. He was going to need it.   
  
He let Zechs pull him by the hand into the thick of the crowd, and then stood there stubbornly as Zechs began to move to the beat. After a moment Zechs moved in closer, gyrating in a manner that bordered on obscene, his body mere inches from Wufei's, but not quite touching. It was disturbing, how well the man moved in this context. There was nothing unbalanced or stiff about it.  
  
"You can't just stand there," Zechs warned, already moving away, casting around for a new, more willing partner.   
  
And so it was, for the first and, gods and ancestors willing, hopefully the last time in his life, Chang Wufei attempted to dance. He'd never felt such a fool in his life! But no matter how foolish he must have looked, it kept Zechs from leaving. The man even gave him an encouraging nod and moved in closer again, this time having the audacity to step behind him and clasp his right hip! That brief glimpse he'd had of Zechs fucking someone like this flashed though his mind; he whirled around and pushed the man away.   
  
Zechs pulled the hand away, but didn't back off. "You have to move your body more. You're as stiff as a poker. Loosen up. Feel the music. I've seen you move. You can do this!"  
  
Trapped by circumstance, hemmed in by the crowd, Wufei gritted his teeth and attempted to do as he was told.   
  
Horrid as the music was, it did have an unmistakable beat. He could feel the bass pulsing in his chest. He moved his feet a little, trying to copy what he saw going on around him. This sort of dancing depended on fluid hip movement and waving one's arms around in some fashion. Most of the men around him were managing to do this without looking like seizure victims. Wufei strove to emulate them, but it was not easy to relax with Merquise watching him.   
  
But Wufei knew how to harness anger. He used its energy to focus on loosening his limbs and pushing away shame. He found the beat and let it guide him.   
  
Zechs leaned in close again and stroked a stray strand of hair back from Wufei's face with one finger. The unexpected touch, and the warm, rum-scented breath against his cheek sent a startling shock down through Wufei's body, a sensation that zeroed in alarmingly below the belt. He almost missed what Zechs was saying.  
  
" _'Human beings are soft and supple when alive, stiff and straight when dead.'_ See? You are alive after all."   
  
He stepped back, clearly enjoying Wufei's look of shocked recognition. The man was quoting Lao Tzu at him! Here, in this place!  
  
Then again, it was apt. To truly follow the Tao, one had to live it in every situation, not just within the safety of the meditation room. The same could be said for Wu-Yi.   
  
'In motion, move like a thundering wave,' he thought, letting the driving bass beat resonate though him. 'Rising like a monkey, land like a bird.'   
  
He did not do this literally, of course, but he let the imagery carry him, loosening his joints and stilling his mind. 'A pine tree in a breeze. Flex like a bow.'  
  
He'd allowed his eyes to close, but opened them quickly as he felt that steady hand come to rest lightly on his hip again as the music slowed and became more intimate.  
  
"That's very good, Wufei. I knew you'd be a natural," Zechs said, his voice a raspy purr.   
  
Wufei gritted his teeth and suffered the familiarity until the song ended, then clasped Merquise's elbow, all but hauling him toward the door.  
  
But the man pulled away easily. "Go have another drink, little Chang. I'll be gone a bit longer this time." And with that he melted back easily into the crowd. A few moments later Wufei spotted him heading back to the cubicles again with a tall, red-haired man.  
  
The only seat left was a stool at the bar. Green Eyes was waiting, trying to gloat and look sympathetic at the same time. "Tough break, pretty eyes, but I warned you. You can't pull an attitude with a guy like that."  
  
"Fuck off!" Wufei muttered, watching the passageway and trying to recall if there had been a back way out. Something cold nudged his elbow and he glanced back to find Green Eyes leaning across the bar, smiling as he offered him a fresh drink.  
  
"It's on the house. And like I said, I get off at two, but I have a break coming up in half an hour if you want a quickie back there."   
  
Wufei took the drink and ignored the offer. Gagging down a mouthful, he clutched the glass to his chest, thinking, "This is hell. I am in hell."


	39. Hollow Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Usually an evening of mindless fucking made Zechs sleep like a baby. It was a habit he'd picked up his last year in the Academy. It had helped get him through the war. Not that it had been so mindless and anonymous in the early days. He used to tell himself it was better with someone you cared about. It had been easier before he was an officer. It wore on the soul, to enjoy a young man's company and his body, and then send him out to die. First Walker, then poor Otto. After that, the faces began to blur and names didn't really matter. Just as well.   
  
He'd taken up where he left off a couple of weeks ago. It started with a need to prove to himself that he could come and go as he pleased, and to hell what Relena or her hired guns thought. After a lifetime devoted to duty and discipline, saying "fuck it" felt quite good. It was one of the few things he could still feel anymore and it hit like a drug. So did finding himself back in that club down in Le Fleur. The trouble with drugs was that sooner or later you had to take more and more to get the effect.  
  
Maybe that's why it hadn't worked this time and he was still awake and pacing the floor at dawn, with a million images from the past few days playing in an endless loop in his head? Or maybe it was Chang, with his disapproval and comic shock and that body that moved easily as a swaying willow when he let it . . .  
  
He'd known who Chang was the moment Une brought him into that holding room on L-4. He'd wanted to hate him, and had managed to do so for a few days, But it seemed he still had enough tattered honor left to admit that it was sorrow and jealousy, not hatred, that made it so hard to be around the young man. He, Zechs Merquise, should have dueled with Treize, given the man that much respect for making him into the man he was. Pride and lunacy had denied them both that final match. It wasn't like Chang had taken any satisfaction in it. He'd wept, for god's sake!   
  
So he would not hate the boy. Instead, he'd found himself picking at him, trying to crack that austere, stick-up-the-ass attitude. He really did play that "inscrutable Asian" act to the hilt.   
  
Zechs had plenty of practice testing young soldiers, finding their weak points, pressing on raw nerves to see how much it took to make them break. With perverse delight, he found a good many weak points in little Chang's defenses. He was already getting bored with the game when Chang pulled the most amazing recovery. And with poetry, no less, and philosophy! Not to mention his grasp of fighting techniques. A part of Zechs's soul that had been MIA since the explosion suddenly sent up a flare. If this boy had turned up as an Academy cadet, there would have been fistfights among the instructors to get him. All that talent and potential, packed into a tight, pretty little porcelain doll body. Zechs Merquise would have made certain that cadet ended up on his training roster, and in his bed.  
  
How ironic to end up with that deadly, battle-scarred little doll as one of his paid keepers.   
  
Chang was useful, resourceful, and had more spirit left than Zechs had initially given him credit for. This became painfully obvious when he let Chang goad him into sparring practice. That had been a bit humbling; only stubborn pride had kept him from quitting the first day. Chang's honor and his patience had impressed him, he had to admit.  
  
Still, it was fun to poke and pry at the edges of the boy's personality. He was turning out to be-- and the cliche was simply unavoidable-- one of those sets of Chinese nested boxes. He was finding it entertaining to try and get through the layers.  
  
That didn't explain why he'd dragged the boy off to Le Fleur with him.  
  
Relena's visit had left him in a foul mood. What lovely dinner conversation they'd shared, with Po and Chang as witnesses. Perhaps if Chang hadn't been there to hear. Perhaps if he hadn't seemed so embarrassed and sympathetic. Perhaps if he hadn't revealed such a tempting naivete, with his verses to lost love and dead wives.   
  
So, in his bloody-minded mood, Zechs decided to catch the kid off guard and see if he could open his eyes a little. Let him be the Lightning Count's doll to play with for an evening. God knows he'd been easy prey.  
  
That wasn't why the fun gradually drained from the exercise, or why dawn found the ghost of the Lightning Count shambling around the grounds, shoes soaked with dew. He could have been content to gloat over the shocked look on Chang's face when he caught him fucking that first man. Had Chang noticed that his little appetizer was also Asian? And it had been fun to save him, cruelly fun to manipulate him into playing along and dancing. It might have stayed fun if Chang had fought back, or-god forbid-- enjoyed himself. Instead, when taunted with a bit of his own philosophy, he'd gotten that certain look, the same look he got sometimes when they sparred or traded poetry verses. It almost seemed like a connection might be possible, and that was the last thing Zech Merquise wanted from anyone.  
  
What was it then that kept him awake, and brought him here to this sheltered corner of the grounds where the watchmen said Chang had spent most of the night?  
  
Autumn mist still hugged the ground, hiding the koi pond and giving the impression that the ornate gazebo was floating just above the ground like a tethered lantern.   
  
Chang sat cross-legged on the floor near the latticework overlooking the misty pond. He sat upright without support, looking perfectly comfortable and at ease with a book open on his knee and his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. The ugly shirt and trousers were gone; he wore his usual sparring clothes: the dark blue and white yukata, belted tight over loose white trousers. His feet were bare, shoes neatly side by side next to a candle and a small stack of books. He looked like he was planning to meet Zechs for the morning sparring match, except for the fact that his hair still hung loose around his shoulders.   
  
That hair. Zechs allowed himself a smile. He'd wanted to see it down last night, mostly to see if he could make Chang do it. A petty victory, perhaps, but the spoils had been unexpectedly sweet. It was much longer and thicker than the severe braid had suggested. Zechs had managed to surreptitiously touch it once, as they sat at the bar. It was silky and fine as a child's.  
  
Chang had not noticed his approach yet. Zechs was struck by how delicate and lovely the boy looked in this light, and in repose. Pale golden spacer complexion, finely arched brows like Japanese brush strokes over those liquid black eyes. And that face, almost feminine by crass Western standards, was serene. Zechs had never imagined the stiff, formal little prig in the perfectly starched uniform could look like this. So very lovely, and so young, too, in spite of everything he'd lived through.   
  
Run away, little boy, he thought, catching himself. The big bad wolf is on your doorstep. Run!  
  
He cleared his throat and climbed the steps but kept his distance. Chang looked up over his glasses and one dark brow lifted slightly, a silent question.   
  
"I'm surprised to find you here," Zechs said.  
  
A slight tilt of the head, nothing more. "I come here often, to practice and read. It's peaceful."  
  
"I meant, to find you still here on the job. I rather expected you'd be packed and gone, after last night."  
  
"Really? Why is that?" The inscrutable act was back. He hadn't moved, except to mark his place in the book with one finger.  
  
"I was a shit last night. If you wish to leave this assignment, I won't stop you." Chang said nothing. It was beginning to be a bit unnerving, this strange calm. "I thought you might wish to quit."  
  
"I considered it. I will stay."  
  
It was Zechs's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Does this mean you enjoyed yourself?"  
  
"Not in the least."   
  
"I plan to go there again, you know."  
  
"Then I must accompany you, unless you choose someone else."  
  
"No, it will be you."  
  
"In that case, perhaps you could give me more notice next time, and suggest more suitable attire?"  
  
The Zen master act was beginning grate on Zech's nerves. "I won't be going just for the dancing."  
  
"Understood." Chang remained unflappable. If anything, he seemed anxious to get back to his book.  
  
Irked, Zechs walked over and inspected the small stack beside the shoes. One was in Mandarin. The other had the binding of the house library: Emily Dickinson. The book Chang seemed so engrossed by was Zechs's collection of T.S. Eliot. Something else caught his eye, as well. Next to the books lay what appeared to be a marijuana joint. It was so incongruous with the rest of the scene that he laughed.  
  
Chang offered it to him. "A gift from Joey the bartender. He thought I needed consoling while you were occupied in the back. I've recently given up the practice."  
  
"You're suggesting I should--" Then the import of what Chang had said struck him. "You use drugs?"  
  
"Not anymore. Do you want it?"  
  
"No, thank you."  
  
Chang shrugged and tossed it over the railing into the pond.  
  
Surrendering to this surreal scene, he sat down with his back to the lattice. "What are you reading?"  
  
"My knowledge of Western literature is quite limited. I was struck by something you quoted the other night and did an online search of the lines I remembered."  
  
"'The Hollow Men.'"*  
  
"Yes." That was the passage he'd been marking. "I've read it a number of times this morning."  
  
"You like it?"  
  
Chang nodded. "The imagery is not always clear to me, but it seems to capture many of the emotions I've felt since the war. Several of my friends would probably also appreciate it, if they could understand it."  
  
Zechs was dumbstruck. He'd come here expecting a fight, a parting, and instead this boy was calmly laying his soul out for view. Without thinking, he asked, "What lines struck you in particular?" as if they were students together in an Academy lit course. Or as if it were Treize sitting there, asking him that same question over a glass of port one rainy night.  
  
Chang glanced down and found his place. "In the third part, here. _'Is it like this  
in death's other kingdom, waking alone at the hour when we are trembling with tenderness. Lips that would kiss form prayers to broken stone.'_ "   
  
Zechs detected the faintest flush of color in those golden pale cheeks. He felt his own heart miss a beat.   
  
"I was struck by the ending, as well," Chang said, quickly turning the page. " _'This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.'_ My life nearly ended with a bang many times, yet I believe I understand the sense of futility the poet was trying to convey. I did have some trouble with the reference to pears, though."  
  
" _'Here we go round the prickly pear at five o'clock in the morning'_? It's a type of cactus, something prickly and harsh that grows in a desert. It's just an image, like the rest of the poem. A dark night of the soul."  
  
"Ah."   
  
Zechs caught a glimpse of his own despair in the depths of those liquid, night dark eyes. That sense of connection stirred again and he shook it off hastily. "And the Dickinson?"  
  
"I chose it merely because I recognized the poet's name. But I'm finding her work halting, overly sentimental, and didactic."  
  
Zechs laughed again. "It seems we have some similar tastes."  
  
"Some." Chang's tone imbued that word with a significance not lost on Zechs. "May I ask you a personal question?"  
  
He assumed it would be something to do with his overt display last night. Instead, Chang asked, "Why have you not attempted suicide? I've wondered that since I got here, and even more so, having read your Eliot."  
  
"What do you think my great heroic last feat on Libra was?" he replied. "After that, I was disabled and off my head for a long time. Then?" He shrugged. "I'd become what you see now: one of the hollow men, my head piece stuffed with straw, in my rat's coat and crow skin, 'behaving as the wind behaves.'"  
  
"Blown this way and that by circumstance?"  
  
"I suppose."  
  
"I have done the same."  
  
"But no more? Why?"  
  
Chang gave him the hint of a smile. "A kind friend pointed out my loss of integrity. I found I did not wish to continue in that manner. I had become 'stiff and straight' like a dead man, as you said last night. That is not how I wish to go on."  
  
Interesting. Zechs stood and stretched. The night had caught up with him; he was exhausted. "Easy for you. All you have to do is walk out that gate and chose a direction. I'm afraid I'm stuck here, making my little night raids out into the larger world for my wicked, pointless pleasures."  
  
"That is a choice, nonetheless." Chang rose with unconscious elegance and gathered his books. "Do you wish to spar this morning?"  
  
"Another choice, eh? No, let's do that later, when we're both rested."  
  
Chang nodded and started for the doorway of the gazebo. Zechs watched the play of early sunlight in that dark hair, and the controlled grace of his stride. "Are you certain you didn't enjoy dancing just a little, Chang?"  
  
A dark look from those dark eyes was his only answer. Zechs smiled again as he watched the boy hurry off, recalling the feel of those slim hips swaying under his hand. " _'And all that's best of dark and bright meet in his aspect and his eyes.'_ "  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * For the full text of 'The Hollow Men': https://allpoetry.com/The-Hollow-Men
> 
> Apologies for the typos. Argh! I'm my own beta and it shows. For some reason accented letters turn into Zs, so I'm leaving them out. And I really do know the difference between "meditation" and "mediation". Honest! It's my spell checker that doesn't.


	40. Project Trowa: Implementation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**Stage I  
  
12:07 pm EST**  
  
The familiar jolt of the shuttle hitting atmosphere woke Trowa from another dark and guilty dream. Quatre wasn't in his seat and Trowa looked back over the tops of the seats, seeking that distinctive head of blonde and blue hair. Quatre had moved back to sit with Cathy. The two of them were looking out the windows, watching Earth come up beneath them like a green and blue sea swell. The other performers, his friends and fellow artists were all doing the same, laughing and talking excitedly. It was the first Earthside tour they'd done in over a year. It meant early set up and grueling practice sessions to reaquaint their bodies with this gravity and this natural atmosphere, but most had done it before. It was well worth the effort, to feel a real breeze on your face again, and see hills and forests and the sea.   
  
And New Orleans! Quatre had never been here before, but Trowa had and loved this wicked painted lady of a city. He wanted to walk those dark cobbled streets again in the French Quarter, seek out the low dives and fine cafes, and stand under the ancient palms in Jackson Square, watching the street performers, vagrants, fortune tellers, artists, and whores. The smells of the French Quarter, the colors and the music everywhere. He'd spent weeks there, long ago, immersed in that sensual waking dream.  
  
He'd wanted to take Quatre to New Orleans for so long, to share that with him, but now he was desperately afraid that would never happen. He was afraid, so afraid, that Cape Cod was as far as they would travel together, and after that, everything they'd built up-their life, their act, the exciting, terrifying new venture they'd come here to launch. That was all going to end today. And it was all his fault.  
  
He fell back in his seat and closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the sweat trickling under his arms and down his sides. He'd never gotten this sick feeling before missions during the war, or back when he was with the mercenaries.   
  
They'd worked like dogs since Madrid, refining the acts, overseeing the final set and costume designs, completing and recording the musical score, making endless changes and commitments and compromises. It was always that way before the start of a new tour, but this time it had been different. This time he'd slowly found it an all too convenient excuse to put a little distance between him and the love of his heart. Not so much during the day, of course: they had to practice together. It was at night he felt it most and it was killing him by inches, not to be able to touch Quatre the way he wanted to, but he just didn't trust himself not to flash his sick obsession again. The sad, knowing look in those big blue eyes every time he said he had to work late or rise early was bad enough, but nothing was as bad as the tears it caused when he slipped up.   
  
Sunk in misery, he was startled when Quatre dropped into the seat beside him again. God, he looked wonderful! Trowa always noticed, but even more so now. Quatre was going for a slightly more subdued look these days, less jewelry, no makeup. The studded biker jacket hadn't been out of the closet in weeks. The tan suede pants Quatre had on now still hugged him in all the right places, but they were simple and unadorned. The shirt, a blue one that matched his eyes and the fresh streaks of color in his hair, was loose and flowing and unbuttoned far enough for Trowa to see the little round pink scar on his lover's chest, just below his left shoulder, where Dorothy Catalonia had run him through with an epee during their duel on Libra. His body remembered exactly how Quatre had felt in his arms when he carried him out of that control room. His lips remembered what that scar felt like when he kissed his way to it in the dark.   
  
Trowa swallowed and looked away quickly, pretending to take in the view outside, but a firm hand closed over his arm and Quatre kissed his cheek.   
  
"It's going to be OK, baby," Quatre whispered. He was trying to reassure him, but Trowa felt as much as heard the undercurrent of his lover's own fear. "Please, believe me. It will. You don't have to feel--"  
  
"Don't read me!" Trowa whispered.  
  
"I'm not. I won't."  
  
"I love you, Quatre."  
  
"I know. Ti amo, tesoro!"  
  
Trowa managed a broken smile; he'd taught Quatre those words, caressed him with them so many times. "We could just stay on the shuttle. Keep going to New Orleans with the others. There's still so much to do--"  
  
"No." So gentle, yet so firm. Sometimes even Trowa was taken in by Quatre's outward demeanor: the gentleness, the sunny disposition and playfulness. But under that cute little bad boy exterior was a core of steel. If Quatre said they were going to the Cape, then that was that.  
  
Quatre held his hand for the rest of the flight and didn't try to make him talk. They'd run out of words about this a long time ago. Trowa concentrated on the feeling of Quatre's touch, so warm, so trusting, so loving. So patient, but he'd asked more of him than he had any right to and he knew it.  
  
'I am such a sick bastard to fuck this up!' he berated himself. 'What am I going to do when he leaves me?'  
  
But even as he thought it, another part of him, the part that had woken up and flexed its muscles in Madrid, that part replayed images of Heero Yuy in his mind, especially that awkward momentary embrace in the hostel.   
  
Obsession. That's the word Quatre had flung at him during the last bitter fight. It was true. He was obsessed and he didn't know what to do about it except stay away from Heero, but that meant staying away from Duo, too, and that hurt Quatre just as much, and probably Duo, too.   
  
Fuck! Fuck! They'd all be better off without him.  
  
Quatre's hand tightened on his and that silky head settled on his shoulder, soft and warm against his cheek. Quatre wouldn't read him after saying he wouldn't, but Trowa knew his guilt and misery must be plain for anyone to see.   
  
"Mio caro!" he managed, a husky whisper. He couldn't look Quatre in the eye, just kept his gaze on their interlocked hands, unable to give voice to the words that followed in his mind, over and over again. 'How will I ever live without you?'  
  
The shuttle landed at the Boston spaceport and Trowa went through the motions of customs and baggage claim and finding the rental car feeling like a man going to his own execution. But he insisted on driving, in case another flash of the rising storm in his heart leaked out. He didn't want Quatre behind the wheel if that happened. As they wove their way though the snarl of Boston traffic to the coastal highway, he made up his mind to simply live in the moment, savoring the nearness of his lover in these last few precious hours.   
  
Quatre dialed Duo's cell phone. "Hi! Yeah. We're on the ground and headed your way. About two hours, unless we hit traffic. Yes." A pause. The faint whisper a distant voice on the other end. "Yes." Another pause. "Yeah, me, too. See you soon." He signed off and put the phone away in his duffle. "Duo says hi."  
  
Trowa kept his eyes on the traffic ahead. Two hours.  
  
**2:18 pm EST**  
  
Duo jumped and dropped the pencils he'd been fiddling with as the cell phone on the worktable next to him chirped, flashing Quatre's number. He turned to exchange a look with Heero, who was stretched out on the couch, doodling in his sketchbook.  
  
"Kat?"  
  
"Hi!" Quatre sounded overly bright.  
  
"So, you're in Boston? Is Trowa right there with you now?"  
  
"Yeah. We're on the ground and headed your way."  
  
"ETA?" Heero was behind him now, one hand on Duo's shoulder.  
  
"About two hours, unless we hit traffic."  
  
"Are you as petrified as I am?" Duo asked. Heero frowned and shook his head.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Heero took the phone from him but let Duo lean in close to listen. "Quatre, we're ready on this end. We want this to work."  
  
"Yeah, me, too. See you soon."  
  
Heero signed off. "You shouldn't reinforce his fear, Duo. He's got to keep up the act until they get here and he's already under considerable strain."  
  
"Sorry, but I am!" Duo grumbled. "Dr. B wasn't exactly raving about our plan, you know."  
  
"And he couldn't suggest a better one."  
  
Duo glanced at his watch. Two twenty four. "You're really going to make me wait, aren't ya?"  
  
Heero returned to the couch and picked up his sketchbook. "The timing is important."  
  
"And you're sure you don't want to take a shower or something?"  
  
"We'll wash up at 3:15, as planned."  
  
Duo slumped on his stool, fiddling nervously with his braid. "This all seemed like a better idea when you first came up with it. Maybe you should just punch him and be done with it."  
  
Heero ignored him, knowing he wasn't serious. The last thing a high wire artist like Trowa needed this close to an opening night was a concussion and a black eye, or worse. Duo just hoped nobody else ended up with one, either. He lifted his arms and sniffed at his pits. Heero had banned showers since yesterday and he was getting pretty funky. Heero had banned sex since Wednesday, too, which had probably been a good idea. He was getting horny enough to ignore all this obsessive clock watching. It was still kinda freaky, though.   
  
He stood and went to the worktable, giving the collection of masks there a final once over. They were pretty damn impressive, if he did say so himself! He tugged at his braid again and went back to his sketchpad, where nothing constructive was happening. He drummed with a couple of pencils for a while, until a polite cough behind him suggested that this might be annoying. He tossed the pencils aside and went to the window, staring out at the driveway and the sea. He tapped the end of his braid on his chin, and then nibbled at a few stray strands of hair, hardly noticing what he was doing.  
  
"Duo, come here."  
  
Duo slouched back to the couch and Heero pulled him down, positioning him with his back against the armrest and his bare feet in Heero's lap.  
  
Duo wiggled his toes, still scowling. "Watch out, my feet probably stink by now!"  
  
Heero lifted one foot and sniffed it, then kissed his way softly up the sole, tickling a little with the tip of his tongue as he went. Duo snorted and tried to pull away, but Heero held the foot still and kissed his toes. "Smells fine to me."  
  
He massaged both feet for a while, until Duo began to unwind, then reached for the book he'd been reading earlier. It was the leather bound edition of "Peter Pan" that Quatre had given Duo. He'd been a little surprised when Heero asked to borrow it the other day, but pleased, too. It had been a guilty pleasure of his ever since he'd read it that first time in the hospital. The Lost Boys reminded him a lot of the street kids he'd run with back on L-2. It would have been real nice if some guy like Peter had come along to protect them, or Wendy, to find them a home. So what if he was still a sucker for happy endings?  
  
Heero opened it to a passage he'd marked with a bit of folded paper. Holding the book one-handed, he continued to stroke the tops of Duo's feet as he read aloud.  
  
"'Chapter Eight. The Mermaid's Lagoon.'"  
  
Duo smothered a giggle. OK, now he got it. Heero said he'd read the book before, a long time ago. Paging Dr. Freud, we've located the root of a fetish!  
  
"'If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at times a shapeless pool of lovely pale colors suspended in the darkness; then if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape--"  
  
"And turns into a freezing cold lake in Finland!" Duo put in, unable to resist.  
  
"I was thinking more of that huge bathtub at the embassy," Heero admitted, grinning. "Now be quiet. I'm getting to the mermaid part. 'the pool begins to take shape and the colors become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go on fire.'"  
  
"Ow, my eyes!"  
  
"'But just before they go on fire you see the lagoon.'"  
  
"Bathtub."  
  
"'This is the nearest you ever get to it on the mainland, just one heavenly moment-'"  
  
"Unless you're in the Sanque embassy orgy suite."  
  
"'If there could be two moments you might see the surf and hear the mermaids singing-- off key, because they are as tone deaf as they are beautiful, especially the ones with pretty violet-colored eyes . . .'"  
  
  
"Hey, I thought you liked my singing!"  
  
They continued on like this to the rescue of Princess Tiger Lily, whom Heero insisted on calling Duo Lily, who'd been captured sneaking aboard the pirate ship with a knife in her teeth to assassinate Captain Hook. She was now tied up and on her way to a watery death in the lagoon at the hands of the pirates Smee and Starkey. Duo accepted the name revision, and added a few of his own. The pirates were changed to Mr. Zechs and Mr. Starknaked, Hook to Hookreneda, and the hero to Peter Yuy. He also interrupted with lots of naughty bondage jokes, then began to giggle again when Peter Yuy, impersonating Hookreneda, ordered Mr. Zechs to cut Princess Duo Lily loose and Mr. Zechs gasped, "This is queer!" And they both totally lost it when, freed from her bonds, the princess "at once like an eel slid between Starknaked's legs into the water."  
  
"Into the water, my ass!" Duo gasped out, doubled up with laughter. "After all that bondage, that's not where this Duo Lily would be headed!"  
  
Heero closed the book. "That's good to hear, because it's almost three thirty."  
  
Duo stopped in mid-chuckle, checked his watch, then glared at Heero, who was looking entirely too pleased with himself. "You sneaky son of a bitch! This was part of your mission plan? Keep Duo amused so he doesn't freak out?"  
  
"It was a contingency plan. But you're still my mermaid, see?" He opened his sketch book and showed Duo a drawing of himself on the stool at the work table where he'd been earlier, only here he was a mermaid with a long scaly tail that twisted and curled around the leg of the stool. His hair was still braided, and he was wearing nothing but what appeared to be a gun holster made of seashells around his scaly hips and a sheath knife strapped to his left forearm. Instead of drawing, his mermaid self was cleaning his pistol. Even with the screwball fantasy details, it was amazingly realistic and a damn good likeness. It was signed and dated, like all his others, and titled "My Kind of Mermaid!"  
  
How the hell was he supposed to stay mad after that?   
  
But he still paused at the bottom of the stairs a moment later, scowling up at Heero. "This is kinda weird, even for you, mission boy. I mean, the whole 'window of opportunity' angle isn't exactly getting me hot."  
  
Heero just held out his hand, giving Duo a 'look' as if he was trying to chicken out on bombing an OZ base or something.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know!" He climbed the stairs with less than his usual enthusiasm and let Heero lead him into the bedroom. Glancing at the clock, he shook his head. "Little ahead of schedule, aren't we? Forget to synchronize all the clocks in the house or something?"  
  
Heero eased Duo's tee shirt off over his head, than ran his fingers inside the waistband of his jeans. "Oh, I'll find some way to fill the extra time," he growled, then leaned in and mouthed the curve of Duo's neck.  
  
Duo shivered at his touch, and the dark, sexy tone of Heero's voice. "Yeah, I just bet you will, baby. OK, mission accepted!" Heero smelled pretty sexy, too, come to think of it. Pheromone overload later was part of the plan, after all.  
  
**Stage II  
  
4:04 pm EST**  
  
Trowa pulled in beside the rental SUV in the driveway and turned off the motor. For a moment all he could hear were the waves on the beach behind them. He'd loved being here last spring. Now it was an effort just to get out of the car. He glanced up at the front door, expecting to see Heero or Duo coming out to meet them, but it stayed shut.   
  
"Maybe they went for a walk," Quatre said. "No problem. I've got a key. Come on, let's see. We can come back for the bags."  
  
As they climbed the steps and Quatre slipped the key in the lock, Trowa heard a muffled noise from inside that could have been a cry of alarm or pain. Ever since the war, he tended to always react to the unknown in terms of a possible threat--a child's cry at a park, the sound of an engine backfiring, Quatre not being where Trowa expected him to be--it all seemed to send him into instant worst case scenario mode.   
  
Now was no exception, especially as he heard another, much more distinct cry and recognized Duo's voice. Yanking Quatre back behind him, he drew his Sig Saur from its ankle holster and slipped into the hallway. Another cry, lower, harsher--Heero's voice. And from the direction, upstairs. That, together with the unmistakable rhythmic sound of a bed creaking made him lower his weapon, but his heart was still racing. Quatre slipped an arm around him and gave him a quick hug, whispering, "Stand down, soldier! They must have lost track of time." Then, raising his voice, "Heero, Duo, we're here! You guys decent?"  
  
They heard a final thump and what sounded like the rustle of bedclothes, and then Duo warbled down, "Com-ing! Just--ah, give us a minute, OK?"  
  
Trowa retreated hastily outside to get the bags from the car, face burning. Yeah, this was a perfect start, all right.  
  
By the time he came back in, loaded down with duffels and backpacks, Heero and Duo were downstairs, hugging Quatre hello. Actually, Heero was hugging Quatre hello and kept an arm around him as he turned to greet Trowa. He and Duo both had on bathrobes and had that 'just fucked glow', cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair looking like it had just been hastily combed. Duo's was still loose around him, something Trowa had seldom seen. Heero's robe was open halfway down his chest and Trowa found himself transfixed by the pink flush on that fair skin, and the scattering of fresh love bites on his neck and chest. So transfixed, that he froze like a deer in the headlights as Heero gave Quatre a kiss, then over to embrace Trowa.   
  
Heero hugging anyone was enough of a shock, even after Madrid. But Heero hugging him still hot and reeking of sex kept Trowa rooted where he stood, brain heading fast for sensory overload. His nostrils flared as he was overwhelmed with a heady mix of Heero and Duo scents, laden with sweat and testosterone and semen and . . .  
  
He felt faint. He raised his handsto push Heero away, but instead found himself clutching Heero's biceps, feeling the solid muscle there under the brown Chinese silk. Somewhere in the back of what was left of his mind, he recognized that robe, and Duo's, as the ones they'd worn in Madrid, or ones very much like them . . . And Heero still had his arms around him and didn't show any sign of letting him go and he still smelled like everything Trowa had been fantasizing about for the past month and a half and was radiating heat like an L-4 solar panel and why wasn't he letting go couldn't he see that if he didn't Trowa was going to faint or cry or kiss him deep just to see if he tasted as good as he smelled and then Heero would feel his hard on and life as he knew it was going to end and where the hell was Quatre and . . . ?  
  
But Quatre was there, too, putting his arms around both of them, and so was Duo, who smelled just as good as Heero.   
  
"What--what's going on?" he managed, voice already shaky with shock and amazement and the beginning of a serious panic attack."  
  
"Remember that time you and Kat ambushed me with that intervention last year?" Duo said, hugging him tighter and kissing his cheek. "Well, it's payback time, Tro. We all know what you've been going through and we're here to help."  
  
"A what? Are you all crazy?" They didn't know, couldn't know, what this was doing to him! The heat, the smells, and the way the silk robes left not doubt in Trowa's mind that they were naked underneath. "Oh god, no please. Heero, let go! Please, let go of me!" He was struggling for real now, and managed to knock Quatre and Duo away, but Heero's arms were locked around his waist and the more he tried to get away the more he found himself crushed against the one body in the room he didn't dare go near at all. That robe was falling open, exposing more of that body that had recovered so very much and looked the way Heero had all those years ago, only older and better and harder and taller. "Quatre, tell him to let go, for the love of . . ."  
  
Quatre and Duo were back, holding him again, trying to soothe him and only making everything so much worse! He felt one of Heero's hands slide up his back to his neck, then his face was being pressed to that neck, against that shoulder and Heero was holding him close, growling "Calm down, 03, everything is fine. You're safe. It's OK."  
  
"NO!" Trowa tried to twist free, but they all had him now, arms tight around him.  
  
Eyes squeezed shut, he recognized Quatre by his scent before those soft, beloved lips touched his ear, whispering, "It's all right, don't fight, mio amore. No one is going to hurt you! This is for you. We're all here for you, baby. Please don't fight, Trowa! Relax, baby, relax. You're hyperventilating. Slow down."  
  
But Trowa couldn't. He felt like he was drowning and his mind was screaming like an animal in a trap _They don't understand! They can't or they wouldn't be touching me like this!_ He tried to tell them now but all that came out was a moan against Heero's shoulder.   
  
He'd felt Quatre's emotions before, and he felt them now, as clearly as Quatre had ever read him. Quatre was worried, but that was eclipsed by incredible love and a desire to help and protect him. He felt it from Duo, too, in a different form, not so intense but just as real. Heero was the only one he couldn't read, but it was Heero who was still holding him close, stroking his back and hair and pressing a kiss--a kiss! --to the side of his head.   
  
Trowa put up a final, futile struggle, then went limp against that hard, rock steady shoulder, too overcome to form a coherent protest. He hardly registered what was happening as the others began to move, until he felt hands--so many hands--slipping into and under his clothing, sliding the leather jacket from his shoulders, lifting his shirt up under his arms, holding his wrists when he tried to stop them and the shirt disappearing anyway. He felt bare skin against his. Heero and Duo had both dropped their robes. They weren't naked after all, but as good as despite the spandex shorts they both wore. Quatre stepped away long enough to shuck out of his clothes, down to a similar pair of red shorts, then he stepped in behind Trowa, reaching around to unbuckle his belt and open his fly.  
  
"No, please!" Trowa begged, but it was no use. His jeans were tugged down and Heero was pulling him in close and up so Duo and Quatre could get his boots and socks off, too. Holding him close with only the thin cotton of Trowa's tiny, tight briefs between Heero's hard belly and his aching cock.   
  
Then they were embracing him again, skin to skin, warm and stroking and murmuring to him, and his heart was pounding so loud he could hardly hear them until Heero brushed his ear with hot lips and hot breath. "Listen to me, 03. We're here to help you. I'm here to help you. I know what you've been going through. Quatre told us all about it, because he wants to help you through this, too. He loves you, Trowa. He gave us his permission to do this, to help you the only way we know how."  
  
Hands found Trowa's hands, clenched helplessly at his sides all this time, and guided them around Heero's bare waist, urging him to hold on, hold tight.  
  
Slowly, Trowa unclenched his aching fists and surrendered, letting himself hold on, letting himself collapse against Heero and letting Heero and the others hold him up. They were all stroking him, all making soothing sounds and telling him he was safe and loved and that this was somehow all right, the four of them standing here like this on this chilly hardwood floor and they were warm against him, so warm and he wasn't quite so panicked now, but he was growing more and more alarmed by the fact that Heero was still holding him and it felt so damned good and right, even with Quatre pressed against him, and Duo. But they weren't letting him go and Heero didn't seemed to object to the hard cock pressed against him and every time he tried to move it rubbed and ached and he was surrounded by the smells of all of them, these boys he loved, and it felt good, even through the panic rising in him again as he recognized the heat building in his groin, spiraling up through his belly, intensifying every sensation, every breath against his skin and the feel of those roughened hands on his back and arms and--  
  
"Heero, please, you have to let go. I--Quatre please, he has to--I can't-- I'm going to--O fuck, Quatre, don't you--?"  
  
"I do, mon cheri, I understand. It's all right. Go ahead."  
  
No! Trowa thought, as the panic and arousal rose to unbearable heights and Heero's hand slipped lower, down his back, past his waist--Quatre, don't you see what he's doing? O god, god, no! Quatre, help me make him stop! That hand was firm against his ass now, so big, so strong. And Duo's hands on him, and Quatre's too-- Quatre, help! Help me!  
  
"I hear you, Trowa. I know, and it's OK, baby. It's OK. I know how bad you need it! We all know and it's OK."  
  
"Oh god!" Trowa screamed, arching back in their arms, helpless to stop the driving spasm of his hips against Heero as the orgasm ripped through him, wiping out everything except need and release and the feeling of being held and all that warmth. And once it hit, it wouldn't stop and he couldn't stop the wild cries it tore from him, from the depths of his heart. "Oh god, oh fuck! Quatre! Heero! Duo! Ah-- amor! Mi corazon, mis queridos!"  
  
"That's it," Quatre urged.  
  
"Oh fuck. Je t'aime tout! Ti amo tutti! I schliesst you de auf! Te amo todo!"  
  
"I know, baby. Say it so they know," Quatre said, burying a hand in his hair, caressing him. "Let it out, Trowa! Tell them."  
  
"O god," Trowa sobbed as the last unbelievable waves crashed through him. "I love you! I love you all! I'm sorry. Oh god, Quatre. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry so sorry!" He was sobbing helplessly now, ashamed of his admission, ashamed of the wet mess cooling between his body and Heero's, ashamed of his own weakness and need. So weak! His legs wouldn't hold him as the others helped him up the stairs and into the bedroom where a fire was burning and the bed was neatly turned down with clean sheets. They lowered him onto the bed and he threw an arm across his face, too shattered to do more than that to cover his shame and despair.   
  
**Stage III**  
  
He couldn't look as gentle hands pulled off his sticky shorts and washed away the seal of his shame and weakness with a warm cloth. Then those hands were pulling his arm down, making him see that he was alone with Quatre in the room.   
  
"Quatre." He couldn't get any more out, couldn't find words to express his sorrow and confusion, but Quatre was smiling.  
  
"It's all right, baby. Don't worry. Here, let's get you into these."   
  
Trowa sat up and tried to help Quatre get a pair of sweat pants on, but his limbs seemed to belong to someone else at the moment. Quatre managed alone, then helped him move to the middle of the bed and under the covers. He climbed in beside him, then called out, "All clear!"  
  
A few minutes later Duo and Heero came in, freshly showered and wearing pajama bottoms, and climbed into bed with them. Quatre moved aside, letting Heero pull a limp and unresisting Trowa in close with his head on his chest, while Duo spooned in against Trowa's back. Quatre nestled under Heero's other arm and reached across to stroke Trowa's face. "See, Trowa, it's OK. We're all here together and it's OK. Just relax, baby. We love you."  
  
"Listen to me, Trowa," Heero said softly. "You have taken care of all of us, at one time or another. We all know how you stood by Quatre and loved him, and how you kept Duo safe while I was gone, and loved him, too. He told me all about it, how good you were to him, and all you did to make him feel safe. You and Kat saved him, and gave him a home."  
  
"You did, Tro," Duo told him, stroking his hair. "Every time I went to pieces you guys were there, picking me up and putting me back together. You and Kat let me into your lives when there was no one else around to understand or care. You saved my life so many times! You were better for me than any drug or doctor."  
  
"It's true," said Heero. "I will be grateful to you for that for the rest of my life, and for standing by him while I was sick. But you saved my life, too, three years ago, Trowa."   
  
Trowa's eyes fluttered open at the unmistakable hitch in Heero's voice as he went on. He'd never heard him sound like this before.  
  
"You saved my life that day, and you took care of me all that time. Then you stayed with me and tried to be my friend and Duo says maybe you even loved me a little--"  
  
"A lot!" Trowa blurted out, unable to stop the words or the fresh tears that came with them. "I did. I loved you. Love you."   
  
Trowa felt Heero swallow hard, and those arms tightened around him. "And I didn't even notice. I'm so sorry, Trowa. I never even thanked you! I was--I don't know. I just didn't know how to act or feel back then, and I'm so sorry if I hurt you and if all that made you end up like this now."  
  
It felt like something was tearing in Trowa's chest. He could hardly get his breath for a moment and found himself clinging helplessly to Heero, sobbing against him. "You couldn't--I knew-I figured it out--"  
  
"No, not really," Quatre said, stroking his shoulder. "Poor Trowa, you didn't figure anything out. You just accepted it and tried not to feel. You and Heero are so much alike that way! No wonder you couldn't communicate with each other. You needed this today, Trowa. I was too close to it all, too hurt, to figure it out. Heero's the one who did."  
  
"And Duo," Heero told him.   
  
"But I--I--Heero, downstairs--I didn't mean to."  
  
"Quatre said it might happen. We were prepared."  
  
Duo rubbed Trowa's back and chuckled. "Yeah, buddy, don't worry about it. It was pretty spectacular, actually. I mean, it's the first time I had a ring side seat, so to speak."  
  
Trowa groaned and hid his burning face against Heero's chest. "I don't know what to say."  
  
"You've said all you need to," Quatre told him. "We love you, too, mio amoro, each of us in our own way, just like you love all of us in your own way, all different."  
  
"But what now?" Trowa whispered, feeling faint again as the significance of what they were saying began to sink in. "What do we do?"  
  
"We don't know yet," Duo told him. "We kinda had to see how this stage of things was going to go, before we could get any further. But don't worry, OK? Everything will work out somehow. Right, Quatre?"  
  
Quatre pressed his hand to Trowa's heart. "It will, baby. Can't you feel it? I don't know how, yet, but this is better. Trust us, OK?"  
  
Trowa brought Quatre's hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. "All right, meli. I surrender. Anything you want. Un bacio di buona notte, per favore?"  
  
Quatre leaned across and kissed him deeply, then held his hand as he snuggled down against Heero. "No endings today, il mio tesoro. Just something new starting. I wanted to tell you on the shuttle, but you wouldn't have believed me or understood. But you do now, don't you?"  
  
Trowa sighed and closed his eyes. "Believe, yes. Understand? Not even close. But I accept, my dear one. If you are happier with this, then I am happy, too."  
  
Duo laughed softly and found Heero's hand to clasp. "Damn, he is a lot like you, isn't he?"  
  
Trowa was already drifting into an exhausted doze when he felt Duo chuckle again. "Whaddya suppose Wufei would say if he could see us now, huh?"


	41. Project Trowa: Initial Results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Daylight was gone and the fire had died down to a red glow of embers in the fireplace when Quatre woke up. He was warm and incredibly comfortable, enveloped in the mingled male scents of his friends. It was little strange, finding himself cuddled up against Heero, one of Heero's strong arms around his shoulders, Trowa's hand warm on his own where they rested on Heero's chest.   
  
Very strange indeed, but not in a bad way, he decided. Without reaching out too much, he opened himself to the others.   
  
Duo was comfortable, horny, hungry, relaxed, and glad to be wrapped around Trowa again. Somewhere just below all that lurked a faint thread of worry, though. He loved Trowa but was not ready to share his lover's body with him. The feelings he had for Heero were powerful, almost confusing in their complexity. Heero represented love, happiness, peace, but also safety. It was the first time since he'd known Duo that Quatre had ever sensed Duo feeling truly safe. Quatre pressed a soft, thankful kiss to Heero's chest.   
  
Heero's thoughts were a steady flow of satisfaction and arousal. He wanted Duo, and even asleep was aware of Trowa's body between them and Duo's hand warm on his shoulder. Duo glowed like a beacon in Heero's mind, surrounded by a potent blend of love, desire, protectiveness, and concern that made Quatre a little dizzy. But mingled with this were faint flashes of Trowa and, even stronger-himself!   
  
Quatre pulled back hastily, blushing. It was not a fully formed want, certainly not an obsession, just a drowsy stir of pleasant animal desire mingled with friendship. There was no question that he liked having all of them in his bed. This confirmed what Quatre had thought he'd sensed in Madrid and online, and then again this afternoon when Heero surprised him with a kiss. The show of affection had been planned, part of the initial assault on Trowa's emotional defenses, but there had been much more behind it than mere show. Yet the desire and pleasure came without intent. It was odd; Heero seemed to want him and Trowa without needing to do much about it beyond basic physical contact. Even in the dark, with the others sleeping, Quatre blushed guiltily at how much this pleased him.  
  
Pushing this new knowledge down for the moment, he brushed Trowa's cheek with his fingers, and his lover's sleeping mind with his mind, something he'd hardly dared do for weeks now. He let out a silent sigh of relief and let his eyes drift shut again. The storm that had raged in Trowa's mind, becoming so painful to both of them this past week, had subsided. Vestiges of sorrow, guilt and desire still remained, but the furious self-disgust that had fueled the blaze was largely gone, diffused by their intervention and the forcing of the issue. Trowa had been aware of his own feelings; he simply hadn't allowed himself to believe that the others could accept them. The fact that he could break down utterly and lose his self control to such an emotional and sexual degree, and still find himself embraced, especially by Quatre, had been a surprise, a relief, a revelation. Tears stung Quatre's eyelids as he realized the true depth of his lover's fears. He had actually believed that this was their last day together, that Quatre would reject him, leave him, and the pain of that thought was so deep and real that Quatre had to shut down completely and steady his own mind. Even so, the echo of Trowa's despair made his breath catch in his throat and his heart race. No wonder he'd looked so stricken yesterday!  
  
Just then he felt a touch against his own cheek and opened his eyes to find Trowa watching him across the flat plane of Heero's chest. Unspoken understanding made them move as one as they gently freed themselves from the others and left the bedroom hand in hand. Quatre heard someone stir behind them, but the feeling of Trowa's knowing fingers sliding up the middle of his back drove out all other concerns. His body caught fire and he was in Trowa's arms before they made it to the dark bedroom across the hall. Trowa caught him under the arms, pulling Quatre up to wrap his legs around his lover's slim waist as they lost themselves in a kiss and found the bed.   
  
It was too dark to see in here, but Quatre had no need for sight as Trowa lowered him onto the comforter, then found the waistband of his shorts and pulled them off in one smooth tug. He heard the faint movement of Trowa pulling off the sweatpants, than he was back, finding Quatre with his hands and lips. Long, trembling fingers combed the hair back from Quatre's forehead, then traced his eyes, his cheeks and lips, guiding Trowa's own lips in for a passionate kiss. Quatre felt, rather than saw, the warm body hovering close over his, not quite touching, then those hands and lips moved down, worshipping their way down his throat, his chest, down his arms and sucking his fingers then back along the same both but down now to his belly, his hip, the inside of his thigh. . .  
  
He felt the soft, small touch of a tear striking just inside his hipbone, then another. "Quatre, mio dolce!" The soft, hoarse whisper was laden with more emotion than his quiet lover could ever find words for, but Quatre had never needed words from his Trowa, only this language of the body that they both understood so well. Skin to skin, Trowa pledged and proved his love, apologized and married him all over again, the silence of the room broken only by the sound of hands and bedsprings and unsteady breathing.   
  
Quatre's body was humming with desire by the time he felt Trowa pull back and turn away, not a withdrawal, but a silent plea.   
  
Quatre rose to his knees behind him, finding those upraised hips, and the offered bottle of lubricant. He prepared them both with shaking hands, then gasped as his cock slide into the inner, deeper darkness of Trowa's tight passage, thumbs tracing without sight the promise inscribed on his lover's skin, claiming and reclaiming the pledge there. Opening himself to Trowa again, he drank in his lover's need for this connection, how badly he needed the physical sensations of being filled and fucked and taken and held, the way he craved the bite of Quatre's fingers on his hips and the blunt thrusts that made him brace his arms against the mattress. He even let himself feel a little punished, and flashed this to Quatre.  
  
Quatre thrust in harder and reached down to clasp Trowa's balls, rolling them in his hand, tugging gently at the sac. "You're mine, and I love you," he growled, pounding a little harder. "No matter what, you are mine and I am yours."  
  
"Fuck me, meli," Trowa gasped, voice thick and hoarse and louder now. "Make me yours, Quatre!"  
  
The words, the voice, the shuddering body under him lifted Quatre out of himself. His head fell back, eyes closed, lost in sensation. "Mine, corazon. Mine, Trowa, oh Trowa, Trowa!"  
  
+  
  
"There he goes again!" Duo gasped as Quatre's quavering chant began.   
  
They'd both woken when Trowa and Kat slipped away, and Heero had been on him almost before the door closed.   
  
Duo could feel the pent up desire behind Heero's bruising caresses and wondered for a brief, jealous moment who it was that Heero was seeing in the darkness.   
  
Perhaps he tensed, or perhaps Heero read him the way Quatre read Tro, for he whispered Duo's name, then kissed him, whispered it again, and began kissing his way down his throat, still whispering it over and over as he kissed and licked and mauled his way down to Duo's aching erection. His whispers turned to muffled moans that vibrated the length of Duo's cock and drove his arousal up several hundred notches to near orgasm in seconds flat. He hadn't realized how incredibly horny he was until Heero showed him.   
  
As good as that mouth was, Duo found himself pulling Heero back up, guiding him between his legs, begging to be fucked hard and long, right through the mattress. Heero slicked them both and plunged in. Guiding Duo's legs around his waist, he made him hold on tight as he slid his hands under Duo's ass and lifted him until only his shoulders were on the bed. A yelp of passion across the hall and the sound of Quatre calling on Allah made them both groan aloud, made Heero slam his hips harder, finding Duo's prostate with every driving thrust.   
  
"Hands-- over-- your-- head!" Heero growled between thrusts and the order alone was as good as actually being tied up. Duo reached back, pressed his palms to the headboard and kept them there as Heero held him up with one arm and began jerking him off in time to his thrusts. Trowa cried out and Duo felt Heero's cock jerk inside him, heard the catch in Heero's voice as he let out a wordless cry of his own.   
  
"You like that, hearing them fuck, don't you?" Duo gasped as another raw cry came from Quatre.   
  
Heero let out a guttural groan. "All of you. Love hearing-- Ah, so good, Duo, you're so tight!"   
  
Another cry from Trowa sent a jolt of heightened sensation through Duo. Yeah, he got off on it, too, got off on the sounds and the knowledge that Heero was listening to them and pumping all that horniess into Duo's tight ass hard enough that he was probably going to have trouble sitting down tomorrow.   
  
"Let me hear--you!" Heero panted. "Let them-- hear--"  
  
"Oh yeah!" No one was louder in bed than Duo Maxwell when he cut loose. "Oh yeah, baby, let me have it!" he yelled, and it wasn't an act. "Give it to me, Heero, every hard fucking inch of that big bad cock! Oh! Uh, oh yeah like that-- just like _that!_ More, baby, more, all ya got!"  
  
He'd always been loud in bed, but getting it up the ass from Heero Yuy did things to him that no amount of fucking on his own had ever done, reaching parts of him no one else had ever come close to touching.   
  
Across the hall they heard an answering, "O fuck, yeah!" from Trowa, followed by a steady stream of escalating moans from both of their housemates.   
  
It was hot, this kinky duet, and Duo found himself crying out more loudly, even as he listened for more. "C'mon Heero, don't hold back. Let me hear you fucking me!"  
  
Heero let out a ragged cry. "Ah Duo! Beautiful-- mine-- so-- ah-- fuck-- Oh, fuck, oh Duo, my-- oh fucking beautiful mermaid baby!  
  
From the sound of things, it was entirely possible the four of them hit orgasm at the same time. Whether it was actually true or not didn't matter; the mere thought of it, coupled with the grip of Heero's hand around his cock and the perfect prostate massage the head of Heero's cock had been giving him for the past ten minutes drove Duo over the edge into an earth shaking, mind shattering, teeth rattling, screaming orgasm, one that was prolonged by the sound of Heero, normally the quiet one, yelling wordlessly as his hot cum flooded Duo's ass, bathing him from prostate to balls in his rich, slippery, musky essence.   
  
They collapsed shuddering in each other's arms, listening with sated glee to the sobbing gasps and cries across the hall. Heero held Duo close, heart pounding, then rocked his softening cock against Duo's. They both gasped at the residual shocks of pleasure.   
  
As fantastic as the orgasm had been, Duo found himself wide awake and wired, but not knowing quite what it was that he wanted. Before he could even voice the thought, Heero rolled him onto his back and took his limp, semen soaked cock in his mouth, gently licking and sucking him clean. Duo moaned, then again, more loudly as strong, warm fingers entered him again, setting off lightning flashes of pleasure that bordered on pain in their intensity.  
  
"Heero, baby, I don't know if I can take anymore!" Duo gasped out, but his only answer was Heero's free hand finding his hands and holding them down against the mattress over his head. Pinned and helpless, Duo felt himself building unbelievably fast to a new pleasure peak.  
  
"That's two," Heero mouthed around his half-hard cock, wiggling his fingers to be certain Duo knew what he was talking about. Then Duo felt a shift down there and more stretching. "Three," Heero informed him, and Duo could tell he was grinning.   
  
Three was good. Three was a lot, considering that Heero's hands were not exactly small, but then he felt himself stretched even further as Heero rumbled, "Four!"   
  
"Oh god!" Duo moaned. "Good, but all-- all I can handle, baby, but so good. Gonna-- Think I'm gonna--"  
  
"Come for me, Duo!" Heero ordered, twisting those fingers in his ass and even half-hard, Duo had no choice but to obey.   
  
Not to be outdone, across the hall Quatre was crying out, "Fuck me, Trowa! Put it in! Oh baby, all the way!"   
  
Duo's legs were twitching and shaking as Heero lifted them over his shoulders. As he entered him again, Heero's cock was as hard as if he hadn't just had a mind-blowing orgasm ten minutes ago.  
  
"A little competitive, are we?" Duo panted, too wiped out and caught up in his own afterglow to do anything but go happily along for the ride.  
  
Heero froze, then stroked Duo's thighs gently. "No. That is--"  
  
"It's OK, baby, go for it!" Duo said, wiggling against him. When Heero sighed softly and resumed his steady thrusting, he added jokingly, "Send Q-ball a little sugar while you're at it, huh?"  
  
Perhaps it was only a coincidence. Perhaps it was power of suggestion or maybe Quatre even overheard, but at the same moment Heero let out a warning growl and smacked Duo on one ass cheek, Quatre let out a ragged yell across the way, and Trowa followed with one of his own about two seconds later. Heero gasped and stiffened, and Duo felt a fresh flood of heat deep inside.   
  
Heero really did collapse this time, sprawled on his back beside Duo, one hand tangled in his hair. "Very naughty, Maxwell," he growled, but sounded too winded to do much about it.  
  
Duo curled up beside him and kissed his sweaty shoulder. Cum was leaking out of him, making his butt itch and his thighs stick together, but he was too exhausted to move, much less drag himself to the bathroom. He was dozing off when he felt the bed shift as Heero got up. A moment later he heard water running, then Heero was back, gently wiping him and the sheets clean. Well, cleaner. Duo could hardly keep his eyes open, but managed a grateful "love you, baby" and a nuzzle as Heero moved them both away from the wet spot and curled up with him under the covers.   
  
"Hey Yuy?" he whispered, tucking in under Heero's chin and wrapping his arms around him.   
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"That was hot, huh?"  
  
"Hn." But it sounded like a happy 'hn.'  
  
Duo chuckled and kissed him on the chest. "Never figured you for the biggest perv of the group."  
  
+  
  
Heero woke up just after dawn, feeling like he'd been run over by a truck. A truck that loved him, perhaps, but he was still stiff and achy, and a little fuddled from having slept longer than usual. It had only been late afternoon when they'd taken Trowa up to bed.  
  
Duo was still fast asleep, face buried in the pillows. Heero let him sleep and went downstairs, tying his bathrobe sash as he went.   
  
October was nearly gone and it was cold in the morning. The house was not meant for winter occupancy. There was no central heating. Heero built a fire in the living room fireplace, then went into the kitchen to make coffee and find something to eat. Walking around barefoot on the cold floors had woken him up fully and now he was starving.   
  
He stared into the refrigerator for a while, wondering if baloney and American cheese would taste good in an omelet. Maybe with some salsa. He turned, intending to look for some in the cupboard, and found Trowa pouring himself a cup of coffee at the counter. He had on his sweats and a loose black sweater. His hair was sticking out in odd directions and he appeared to still be half asleep.  
  
"Is Quatre still asleep?" Heero asked.  
  
"Mmmm. Put him back in bed with Duo."  
  
This was stated as if it were the logical thing to do and nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps among the three of them it had been?   
  
Trowa wandered off toward the living room with his coffee and Heero saw that he'd also poured one for him.   
  
Heero stared at the steaming cup; Trowa had done the same every morning back during the time they'd spent together in the war. On missions he'd always woken alert and ready, but during that long stretch of down time, he'd been like this, sleepy and unkempt and slow to wake. But he'd always poured that second cup.   
  
As far as Heero could recall, he'd never once said thank you.  
  
Picking it up, he slopped in a little milk and went into the living room.   
  
Trowa was curled in an ungainly looking heap at the end of the couch closest to the fire, still blinking and groggy. He appeared to be in danger of dozing off and dropping his coffee in his lap. Heero walked over and took the cup from him, setting both on the table in front of them. Then he shifted an unresisting Trowa over, making room for himself by the arm of the couch and pulling Trowa over against him to rest his head on his shoulder. Far from objecting, Trowa shifted a little, settling more comfortably and let out what sounded like a contented sigh. Heero hesitated, then put an arm around him. Trowa accepted this, too, letting his body speak for him. He was, Heero thought with a wry smile, the anti-Duo as far as communication went.   
  
They sat there a while like that, enjoying the crackle of the fire and the sound of the sea outside. Heero drank his coffee, but Trowa hadn't reached for his. Heero thought he'd gone back to sleep when Trowa yawned and said, "Thanks for yesterday."  
  
"You're OK about-- everything?" Heero was a bit uncomfortable about the sex part. It wasn't as if they'd all been in the same bed, but it had definitely been a shared experience on some level.   
  
Trowa chuckled softly and nestled a little closer next to him. "Mmmm hmmm."   
  
That appeared to be his last word on the subject, until he asked softly, with that same hint of amusement, "Did you mean to flash Quatre like that?"  
  
"No!" Heero knew exactly what he was referring to. "Duo made a joke, during-- well, it just sort of--"  
  
"It's all right, Heero. We both enjoyed it."  
  
Both. Pulling back a little, he tried to read the expression in those sleepy green eyes. Trowa's unruly bangs were more of a barrier than usual, and without thinking Heero combed them back with his fingers, trying to put that shaggy brown hair back into some sort of order. Trowa blinked slowly, like a cat, leaning slightly into his touch, then reached up and returned the favor, sliding long, skilled fingers against Heero's scalp, half massage, half caress.   
  
The touch sent a pleasant shiver up Heero's spine, but then alarm bells sounded in Heero's mind as Trowa leaned in and brought their lips together. It was only a brief, friendly kiss, though, with no demands. He retrieved his coffee and settled down beside Heero again like they did this every morning. Heero relaxed a little, thinking of all Duo had told him about how they'd interacted. This felt intimate, but not sexual, at least not at the moment. Having determined that much, he could admit that this felt rather pleasant.   
  
"So, any more interventions planned for today?" Trowa asked.  
  
"Not of that nature. I am supposed to talk to you about seeing a therapist."  
  
Trowa sighed. "Tried that just after the war. Didn't get much out of it."  
  
Heero nodded. Although he did have to admit that his sessions with Dr. B. had been helpful at times, the necessary verbal communication was difficult for him. He could only imagine what it must have been like for someone like Trowa. "Quatre would like you to give it another try," Heero told him. "You do show some of the signs of post traumatic stress."  
  
"I've been a soldier for as long as I can remember," Trowa told him. "It's not a problem. It's all I knew."  
  
"Hn." He was the last person to force such an issue. He'd done as Quatre had asked and brought up the subject.  
  
He assumed the discussion was over. He was thinking about taking a shower when Trowa spoke again.   
  
"When I was in the mercenaries, before Heavyarms, it was mostly men."  
  
Surprised, Heero waited for him to go on. Trowa had never spoken in any detail about that part of his life.   
  
"We moved around a lot, never staying anywhere for long, not making connections outside the group. I was the youngest, sort of the pet. They were good to me. The captain--he looked after me." Trowa went silent again, but Heero knew there was more to come. At last Trowa sighed. "The men-- they had needs, you know? Not just sex, but to feel connected to someone. Some of them hooked up. Some were just fuck buddies, but a lot of them were like Kat and me, you and Duo. Love, you know?"  
  
Heero nodded.  
  
"It wasn't always just two, though. Three, four, even five. It worked out for some of them, those clusters. They all had their own rules, the way they handled it. Who did who and all that. Sometimes it was everyone doing everyone, but in others, only certain people did certain things together." He paused again. "Kinda like last night."  
  
"Were you part of one of these groups?"  
  
"No." A longer than usual pause followed. "No one touched anyone younger than sixteen. But there was one group of three who-- who wanted me, when I was old enough. They were my friends. They were very good to me . . ." He trailed off and Heero felt him tense.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"They died."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Trowa gave a tight, strange little laugh. "You're sorry? I'm the one who killed them."  
  
Heero waited, letting Trowa decide to say more or not, keeping his arm around him. Trowa shook his head and sipped his cooling coffee. "There was a mix up. Ancient history."  
  
Heero rubbed his hand up and down Trowa's arm, keeping him close, letting him know he was there, not judging, until he felt the tension ebb out of him again. "Quatre was your first, then?"  
  
Trowa shrugged. "First I ever loved."  
  
"Duo is my first."  
  
"I figured."  
  
"He's worried that I want to fu-to have sex with you."  
  
"Do you?"   
  
Heero had asked himself this a few times already. "I don't think so, although the thought is not repugnant in any way."  
  
Trowa nodded. "That's good. He's never given himself to anyone the way he has with you. This may be hard for you to believe, considering how fucked up I am, but I would never mess with that. Would you?"  
  
"No. Not if it would hurt him, or Quatre."  
  
Trowa sagged a little against him. "I've hurt Quatre, but I didn't mean or want to. I would never mean to. He's--" His voice went husky. "He's my heart."  
  
Heero hugged him again. "Duo is mine. I think we should agree to leave things as they are for now."  
  
"How are they, as you see it?"  
  
"Friends who mess around?" Heero offered. "Duo explained the rules."  
  
"Agreed. Once the tour begins, you won't see much of us anyway, unless you come with us. You're welcome to, you know."  
  
"Thanks. I'll talk to Duo. You need to concentrate on the show now. I'm looking forward to seeing it."  
  
+  
  
Duo knew even before he opened his eyes that it was Kat he was hugging, not Heero. He squinted in the early morning light, and then stroked the silky blond and blue head nestled under his chin. "Hey Q-man. Wakey wakey."  
  
Quatre grumbled something and burrowed against his chest. Duo tickled his nose with the end of his disheveled braid until Quatre rubbed at it and rolled onto his back, mumbling. "Don'! Tired!"   
  
Duo propped his head up on one hand. Quatre did still look pretty wiped out. There were dark circles under his eyes and a major hickey on the side of his neck. And that was only the parts of him that showed. "Sounded like some good make up nookie last night."  
  
Blue eyes flashed open. Quatre looked at Duo, glanced around the room, and sat up, frowning in confusion. "How'd I get back in here?"  
  
"Tro carried you in a while ago. Told me to keep you warm."  
  
Quatre fell back against the pillows and closed his eyes. "How was he?"  
  
"His usual sparkling morning self. One eye open. Single syllable words. No complete sentences."  
  
"Did he seem OK?"  
  
"Yeah, but you'd know better than me. Feel him out."  
  
Quatre hesitated, then got that far away look for a moment. Then he smiled. "I think it worked, Duo. Not completely, not 100 fixed or anything, but he was so much better last night, when we--"  
  
"Screwed each other's brains out?"  
  
"Made love!" Quatre shivered happily and a pink tinge rose in his cheeks. "Best in weeks! He wasn't afraid to touch me, and he wasn't sad. He really got into it. So did you guys, from the sound of it!"  
  
Duo grinned. "That was fun. Like my little present?"  
  
Quatre's cheeks went red. "So that wasn't-- What if he'd freaked out?"  
  
"Sorry. I just made a joke and I guess Heero's brain did the rest. He didn't mean to. It was my fault. But you guys didn't mind?"  
  
"Did it sound like we minded?"  
  
Duo's grin broadened. "Nope! So, was what? Our first Gundam Boy orgy or something?"  
  
"Or something. I'm not quite sure what."  
  
"And Tro's OK?"  
  
"At the moment, he's content. He's with Heero in the living room. He's feeling-" Quatre concentrated again. "He's peaceful for now. Heero is really amazing, isn't he?"  
  
"Back off, Winner, he's taken!" But Duo was mostly kidding.  
  
Mostly.


	42. Springes to Catch Woodcocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei had been only half serious when he'd suggested Zechs give him guidance on suitable attire for their evening escapes from the estate. It had also been a challenge, to sway the balance of power in his favor with unexpected calm compliance. The look on Merquise's proud face had been worth the gambit; he really had surprised the man that misty morning. And enjoyed doing it, too. Wufei felt a little guilty about how much he'd enjoyed that.   
  
Since then Merquise had said no more about clothing or future outings. Wufei had quietly asked Sally's advice in the matter, only to be directed to several online merchants selling clothing he would not be caught dead in.  
  
He thought about asking one of the other ex-pilots for guidance; all four of them went out, dressed up. Yuy was the obvious choice; he would understand the situation in its proper light, simply preparation for an undercover mission. Wufei had even tracked down the pictures online of Yuy and Maxwell at the nightclub, and grudgingly approved of what Yuy was wearing. The clothing, though a bit garish, was flattering without being overly sexual or revealing.   
  
In private he allowed himself to study the photos more closely than he had when Sally had confronted him with them. It was hard to square the pair here with the two boys he'd met in the war. It wasn't just the more adult bodies or the clothing. Only someone who knew Yuy as Wufei did could read his expression as anything other than a peculiar, somewhat bemused frown. He could not be said to be smiling by any normal standard, but the eyes revealed all. In the shots where he was looking at other club patrons or toward the photographer, all the old caution and coiled danger were there; but when he was caught off guard, looking at Maxwell? Well, the look was still a little frightening to the uninformed, but it was something entirely different. Wufei felt an odd little flutter in his chest looking at those shots. What would it be like, to have someone look at him like that?  
  
Or like the way Maxwell looked, laughing and hugging Yuy with complete abandon. Even back in their war days, Wufei had secretly admitted to himself that Maxwell was an uncommonly attractive person, even among the other four, who all were in their own unique ways. But back then Maxwell had kept up an act for himself and the others. With Yuy, now, he was a different person, his true self. And that true self knew how to love unabashedly.  
  
It was not envy or desire that made Wufei archive a few of those photos, but curiosity. They evoked feelings he was unable to clarify to his own satisfaction. He wondered it he should meditate on them.  
  
None of this brought him any closer to knowing what sort of clothing to buy, much less where to find it. He tried several times to e-mail Yuy, but hesitated each time. He suspected that whatever he revealed to Yuy would find its way to Maxwell's ears, and he had no desire to risk the inevitable teasing. Winner might have been discrete, and if not, then Barton would not say much in any event, but their opinions on fashion were of no use to him. Chang Wufei would not wear see-through shirts, studded dog collars, or leather pants so tight they revealed not only the shape of his penis, but the fact that he had been circumcised.  
  
He was still wrestling with this dilemma three days later when he walked into his room after a long ride to find a set of unfamiliar clothing laid out on his bed. Zechs had said nothing about going out, but there was no question what this outfit was for. The clothes were so similar to what Yuy had worn in the club pictures Wufei wondered if Merquise had been monitoring his online usage.   
  
The slim black trousers were made like jeans, but of a flexible, fine-grained suede-like fabric. A wide black leather belt lay beside them, but aside from a silver buckle, it was unadorned. The jeans were his size, but cut to fit far more snugly than his uniform trousers or the loose Chinese trousers he wore off duty.   
  
There was a pair of casual black shoes, and a rather snug looking sleeveless white tee with a slightly scooped neck, also cut to be form fitting. What caught his eye most, however, was the long, loosely cut shirt made of fine silk brocade. The style of the shirt was Western, but the fabric was unmistakably Chinese. The background was a rich midnight blue, and raised pattern shimmering white chrysanthemums. As he lifted it to admire the play of light across the fabric he found a plain white box underneath containing a small lotus amulet carved from white jade. It was strung on a thin black leather choker and incised on the back was the Chinese figure 'beauty'. He set it aside with a sniff of disdain. He did not wear jewelry.  
  
A long black cashmere overcoat hung on a hanger over his closet door. It was like the one Maxwell had purchased in Spain, at once serviceable and stylish, the wool soft as kitten's fur under his fingers. A folded note was pinned to the narrow lapel, written on thick, expensive stationary. The handwriting was crabbed and crooked, but he made out "Tonight. 10:30. Same venue. No braid. Discretion, please."  
  
He looked over the clothing again and let out a slow, controlled breath. The outfit was nothing he would have chosen, but it was acceptable. He found his gaze straying back to the blue silk shirt. It reminded him of the robes some of his teachers had worn on festival days when he was a child. Assuming that Zechs had been the one to choose this ensemble, at least the man had taste.  
  
+  
  
At 10:20 he headed for the library, coat buttoned up to his neck. He'd foregone the braid, as requested, but had his hair pulled back with an elastic band for the time being, for ease of movement. His service pistol was tucked into an ankle holster and he had a small two-way radio in his pocket. Sally had been informed of the operation. He buttoned up his coat for the long walk through the house to the library. Even so, the coat and his altered hairstyle had been enough to raise a few curious eyebrows among the evening staff.  
  
Zechs was waiting for him, standing by the fireplace dressed in the same tight black jeans and leather jacket he'd worn last time. He had on a form-fitting black long-sleeved tee shirt under it. His thick, studded belt, snugged low on his hips, would have looked stylish on Winner or Maxwell; on this man it looked--Wufei wasn't quite certain what it evoked, except that it made his mouth go a little dry. That little voice in the back of his mind that sounded like Maxwell's whispered gleefully, "Rough trade!" Wufei swallowed hard, schooling his unruly thoughts to more appropriate channels, which at the moment seemed best directed into a rising irritation with the situation.   
  
Zechs looked him over and raised one pale eyebrow. "The coat suits you, but let me see the rest."  
  
"I thought you were in a hurry to get away," Wufei muttered.  
  
"We have plenty of time. Please."  
  
Wufei undid the six large black buttons and let the coat fall open.   
  
"Take it off, Chang."  
  
Wufei shrugged out of it and laid it carefully over one of the chairs by the chess table. He was going to draw the line if Merquise asked him to turn around, but the man said nothing, just smiled and nodded, as if pleased with his own creation.   
  
The clothing did fit remarkably well, but not quite as modestly as he'd hoped. The black suede jeans were very tight, and cut low on his hips. It left him with a sensation Wufei was not really comfortable with on a number of levels, but the fabric had enough give to it that they were not binding. The tee shirt was tight enough to reveal every contour of his chest and belly, even the slight points of his nipples. He'd blushed in front of his mirror earlier, and was grateful now for the long silk shirt, which fell past his hips and provided some semblance of modesty, even though it swirled around him in shimmering folds when he moved too quickly. He was a little unnerved by the way Zechs was looking at him, as if he were a newly acquired painting or horse.  
  
"The color certainly does suit you," Zechs murmured, as if they'd discussed the matter. "But where is the necklace?"  
  
Wufei retrieved the box from his coat pocket and held it out. "I do no wear such things. Here, take it. It appears to be expensive and I do not wish to risk losing it."  
  
Zechs's' hooded sapphire eyes went warm with amusement. Leaving the box in Wufei's outstretched hand, he removed the lid and held the pendant up by the cord. The firelight caught the opaque stone, highlighting the fine carving with golden highlights. His voice dropped to a husky, persuasive rumble. "Come now, it's only a simple necklace. It's in character for your role, and it suits both the outfit and the wearer so perfectly. Humor me, please."  
  
Frowning, Wufei took it and fastened the clasp behind his neck. Zechs stepped in close and touched the white stone, adjusting how it lay against the bare skin below Wufei's throat. It was not a caress, just the quick, sure movement of fingertips brushing his skin, but it sent a faint tingle across his chest. Then Zechs leaned closer still, making sure the clasp was centered behind his neck--another brush of fingertips there and around the right side of his neck as he made some other adjustment that required running his fingers along the cord. This caused a much stronger sensation that ran down Wufei's side, like an electric current. He felt his nipples go hard and sensitive at that touch, and the hair on his arms prickle. It was so startling that he flinched away, but Zechs simply took advantage of the move to pull the wrapped elastic from his hair. There was no mistaking his intent this time as he ran his fingers lightly up the back of Wufei's head, spreading his hair over his shoulders. Another wave of sensation swept through him and it was an effort not to close his eyes and lean back for more of that touch. Zechs was nearly a head taller. For a moment Wufei found himself staring at the base of that pale, smooth throat and the little throb of pulse there. He also noted that Zechs was wearing an earthy, masculine scent of some sort; he hadn't noticed it until the man moved close.  
  
A little jolt of panic shook Wufei from whatever daze had overtaken him. Merquise only had one arm, and it was currently occupied. It would have been a simple matter to step out of that not-quite-embrace, or push the man away. Wufei chose instead to lock eyes with him and draw his eyebrows down in a silent frown of warning, all the while breathing in the scent of cologne and the underlying aromas of expensive soap and the man's own clean but unmistakably masculine smell.  
  
Zechs met his gaze, and then boldly stroked a strand of hair back from Wufei's cheek with the backs of his fingers. There was no doubt that it was meant as a caress, and a challenge to the scathing look Wufei was still leveling at him. But his expression was softer now, his eyes thoughtful, as if he were actually admiring him.  
  
Wufei shivered and sidestepped, pulling away from his touch, mostly in surprise such an overt invasion of his personal space.  
  
Zechs's blue eyes hardened slightly. The smile took on a faintly cynical slant. "Forgive me. I wasn't thinking. Let's go."  
  
Unsettled, Wufei followed, concerned at not being able to read his charge's mood. Was the man flirting with him? Toying with him? Trying to see what it took to break his composure? Well, he'd certainly found a few weak points, Wufei reflected sourly. Zechs had taken him completely off guard. His body was still tense and strangely attenuated from those unwelcome touches.   
  
'You're horny!' the little Maxwell voice whispered. Wufei bristled silently, shocked at such a thought. He was straight. He was skilled in self control. He was _not_ horny!   
  
There was no need for stealth tonight. Zechs's secret was out, and no one tried to stop them as they got into the roadster and headed out. He glanced back after a mile or so and saw the faint glimmer of headlights behind them. He and Sally had agreed that there was no need for close shadowing, so long as the scenario remained the same. She would follow, but remain in her vehicle near the edge of town, within easy calling range.   
  
It was much colder tonight, with the stars peeking bright between drifting, moon silvered banks of clouds. Wufei endured the headlong drive down the coast more stoically this time, hugging the door as he tried hard not to ponder the effect those few casual touches had had on him. Zechs was bored. This was just some new form of baiting. Wufei had endured a slightly different version from Maxwell, who'd delighted in calling attention to the Chinese boy's natural reticence and dislike of being touched.   
  
Sally had even commented on it, now that he thought of it. Sex was all well and good, something to be carried out with efficiency and attention to detail for mutual satisfaction. But outside of the darkened bedroom, he disliked casual contact. He did not enjoy holding hands and she'd quickly come to respect his aversion to doing so in public. He found himself thinking of how Winner and Barton were with each other, and now Yuy and Maxwell. He was profoundly uncomfortable with such public displays of intimacy, even the relatively innocent touches of hands. He'd never understood the need for such gestures.  
  
He shook his head slightly, gazing out over the moon washed sea below. No wonder Sally had left him.  
  
On the heels of that thought came the conscious struggle not to compare her touch with the discomforting frissons Zechs's fingers had evoked. It was merely a discomfort reaction, nothing more; Sally had never made him uncomfortable in that way. A woman's touch was natural; one could not expect to react to it the same way as to the close and unexpected proximity of another man, an openly gay man. Of course it had felt different!  
  
He found himself trying to recall the last time they'd had sex. It had been over a year ago. How long since he'd last touched himself? He couldn't recall. He'd always found it a distasteful thing, masturbation, a weakness not to be indulged in except as a last resort. Maybe he'd reached that point. An answering pang from his groin followed hard on the heels of that thought and he quickly summoned up a meditation to quell it.   
  
This occupied him all the way to Le Fleur, to the point that he was almost relieved to reach the club and the myriad distractions and challenges there.  
  
As before, Zechs attracted attention the moment he walked in the door, but he stayed with Wufei for nearly an hour, insisting that they make a good showing by dancing to every song. He complimented Wufei on his progress. During the second slow song, he slipped his arm around Wufei's waist under the silk shirt, drawing him so close their bellies almost touched. Wufei held back stiffly, feeling himself blush and cursing his lack of control. He couldn't push Zechs away, but he'd be damned if he'd allow-  
  
Damned if he'd allow himself to admit that it felt good to be touched, even like this. Zechs's hand was warm, and his body gave off more heat that seemed to sink into Wufei's skin and pool in his groin.   
  
'I am not aroused!' he thought, but he blushed more hotly all the same and kept his eyes focused on the center of his 'partner's' chest, not daring to look up. He felt Zechs chuckle, and the arm around his waist was like an iron band, but he did not force the issue, just held Wufei that close, close enough for the shorter man to feel the warmth of his breath on his cheek, and smell that distinctive scent of his body.   
  
The song ended and Zechs released him, but let his hand slide in a covert, lingering caress around his waist as Wufei stepped back that left havoc in its wake. Aware of his role, and of the envious looks they'd been getting since they entered, he forced himself not to glare up at the man, but he did look at him, trying to read him.   
  
Zechs had on the hat and glasses, but his cheeks were flushed and his mouth was tilted in a slight smile as he whispered, "You play your part well, little Chang. And your hair smells like sweet summer rain."  
  
"Enough!" Wufei hissed, feeling his cheeks flaring again.   
  
Zechs's smile widened a little as he shrugged. "Get me a drink, Chang. I'm about to be thirsty."  
  
And with that he turned and quickly chose a new partner from the crowd. He caught Wufei's eye as he wrapped his arm around a slight, dark haired boy and gave him a wink. Wufei looked away quickly, feeling embarrassed, as if that one look had described in detail what was about to happen between the two. Pushing away a jumble of unwelcome images from past experience, he retreated to the bar. Blond, green-eyed Joey was there, and greeted him with apparent delight.  
  
"Hey there, pretty eyes! Damn, you're looking goooooood tonight! Back again with Tall Blonde and Horny, eh?"  
  
Wufei cringed at the various epithets. "A Bacardi and cola and--"  
  
"A Long Island ice tea!" Joey clearly prided himself on remembering.  
  
"No, no alcohol," Wufei growled over the suddenly loud music. It was some sort of electronic pastiche tonight, all driving bass lines overlaid with repetitious, simplistic lyrics.  
  
"You sure about that?" Joey grimaced in Zechs's direction; he and his new partner were heading for the back.   
  
Wufei had no illusions about where they were going, and neither did Joey. He scooped some ice cubes into a tall glass, filled it with sparkling water, added a splash of grenadine and a long cocktail skewer laden with strawberries and chunks of pineapple, and slide across to him. "There ya go, gorgeous. One Pink Lonely Heart, on the house."   
  
Wufei sighed inwardly at what he assumed was yet another empty come on. Then he registered the pity in the young man's eyes. "I told you before; he and I are only friends."  
  
The bartender shrugged. "Whatever you say."  
  
Concerned for his cover, such as it was, and a bit more irked than he liked to admit, he caught Joey's eye and leaned across the bar. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"Hey, it's none of my business."  
  
Wufei attempted an ingratiating smile. "No, really. I'm--I'm new to the bar scene and I'd like to know what you meant by that."  
  
Joey shrugged as he polished a glass. "You come in last time with the hottest guy we've had in here for months, looking like a fish out of water. He humps half a dozen guys, gives you a couple of dances, and you two leave together. I figured you'd shoot him in the parking lot or something, the way you were looking at him all night. But here you are again, dressed to thrill, and the same thing looks to be happening all over again. Like I said, it's none of my business what turns my customers on, ya know? It's just a kink I ain't seen before, that's all, not with both guys as hot as you are."  
  
Wufei was speechless, too shocked to even be embarassed or outraged.  
  
Joey noted his surprise. "Oh yeah, you two have been the talk of the place since you were in the other night. It's some kinda power game, right? I just hope he rewards you good when you get home, that's all. There are plenty of guys here tonight who won't go near Blondie again because of it. You, on the other hand?" Joey shook his head, grinning. "You could have your pick. They all figure you must be one sizzlin' hot bottom."  
  
Wufei had picked up enough about the gay scene over the years to blanch at what Joey was implying. The hand holding his drink shook slightly as he hissed, "It's nothing like that!"  
  
"Hey, like I said. None of my business." Joey started off to serve a knot of new customers at the other end of the bar, and then came back, leaning over the bar and resting a hand on Wufei's wrist. "Look, if you ever decide you want to see what it can be like with someone who doesn't treat you like dirt, you know where to find me, right?"  
  
As he turned away again, Wufei saw the man's gaze flicker to a point just behind him, and those green eyes narrowed slightly. Wufei jumped and slopped his drink as a warm hand stroked down his back, stopping just short of his belt. He twisted on the bar stool and found himself nose to nose with Zechs.   
  
The man's face was flushed, his eyes brighter than they had been. And, Wufei noted with disgust, he now smelled of sex and another man's sweet, cloying cologne. Why hadn't he noticed that the other night?  
  
"Dance with me," Zechs purred, letting his hand fall to Wufei's thigh.  
  
Swiftly processing everything he'd just learned, adding in the mix of curious and disgusted stares Zechs's little display was drawing from others at the bar, Wufei weighed his options, chose what seemed the best from the limited choices at hand, and threw his drink in Zechs's face.  
  
+  
  
Zechs had been looking for some reaction, wanting to see what Chang would do tonight. The tiny but unmistakable flashes of physical arousal he'd seen earlier, together with the adrenaline high of orgasm still humming through his groin, made him really want to see his little China doll blush or glare, or perhaps even show a glimmer of recognition in those bottomless black eyes. The prissy drink-in-the-face move was the last thing he'd expected, even when Chang followed it up by hissing in his ear, "Cover blown. Outside, now or I make a call" and shoved past him to the door, not even stopping to reclaim his coat.  
  
Zechs was even more surprised when a few people at the bar applauded and shot him dirty looks. Well, well. Joey, who'd been more than friendly a few visits before, threw him a bar towel, but no sympathy. He suspected his hunting days at this club were over.  
  
Fuming, he collected both their coats and hurried outside. Chang was waiting for him beside the locked car, hugging himself against the cold. If it was an act, it was a good one; he looked every inch the outraged, jealous date. Zechs flung the coat at him and unlocked the car with the remote. "Get in," he growled, struggling one-armed into his own as he stormed for the driver's door. He pointedly did not look in Chang's direction again, which was why, in retrospect, he probably missed any signals that the boy tried to give him before hissing, "Look out!"  
  
Too late. A hand closed over his right bicep, gripping and spinning him around to meet a well-aimed punch in the jaw. The next thing he knew he was on his ass, car keys spinning from his fingers, surrounded by a confusing blur of denim clad legs. Someone had him by hair, trying to drag him up to his feet.  
  
Gathering his wits, he saw that some of the men from the bar had either followed them out or lain in wait. There were seven in all, counting the muscular fellow who had him by the hair and the front of his shirt now. As he was pulled roughly to his feet, he saw that two others had Wufei by the arms, pulling him around the car.   
  
"Think you're hot shit, don't ya!" the man holding him growled, breathing whiskey in his face. "Think you can just fuck anything on legs, don't ya, and make this sweet piece watch?"  
  
"Take it easy, kid," one of the men with Wufei was saying as he tried to pull free. "We just want to give your boyfriend here a little lesson in manners."  
  
"I thought the people of Sanque were pacifists?" Wufei said, and Zechs marveled at how calm he sounded.   
  
"Yeah? Well, lucky for you we're not natives," the man replied.   
  
Even cold sober, it took Zechs a moment to process the fact that these men were taking issue with how he was treating his "date." The realization made him laugh, which turned out to be the wrong reaction. His captor drew back his fist, and the light caught the Alliance tattoo on his forearm. Zechs recognized the emblem--53rd Tactical Brigade--one of the units the Specials had decimated when OZ made their move for power. Ah, the irony. Pinned by his one good arm, he braced to have his nose broken, or worse.  
  
The blow never came. He caught a blur of motion from the corner of his eye, and then his assailant went flying, dragging Zechs down with him. Someone else grabbed him and threw him aside, toward the car. Scrambling back, he watched in awe as Wufei took down all seven men in a swift flurry of flying moves. The boy was absolutely silent, as he had been when he'd freed himself from his two erstwhile rescuers. In a matter of minutes all of them were unconscious or groaning on the ground.   
  
Wufei paused, face an inscrutable mask in the moonlight as he surveyed the downed men, no doubt looking for any who meant to attack again. "I assure you, gentlemen, your assistance is neither needed nor welcome. I suggest you leave my associate alone." That voice was nearly toneless, but laden with threat. Small as he was compared to most of the others, he managed to project a level of danger that had the conscious ones dragging their fallen comrades clear, muttering darkly as they went.   
  
Wufei waited until they were safely off, then turned and extended a hand down to Zechs, still on the ground, mouth hanging open in amazement. He had presence of mind enough to snag the fallen car keys up before that hand closed over his wrist in an iron grip and pulled him to his feet as easily as if he were the smaller man.   
  
The inscrutable mask was still in place as he looked him up and down. "Are you injured?"  
  
"No." If Wufei had been as weak and helpless as the men had assumed, if he hadn't leaped in to the rescue, then Zechs would indeed be very injured right now, and probably still in the thick of a serious ass kicking. And he hadn't even heard them coming. They had taken him completely off guard and there hadn't been a damn thing he, a useless, one-armed cripple, could do to protect either of them from the very situation he had created. And this, this--boy! With his proud black eyes and full lips set in that thin, disapproving line--this keeper of his had witnessed the whole pathetic show! Anger and despair, kept at bay these past few weeks, snarled to life again with an all too familiar feeling in his gut, like a rope being strained too far, strands snapping one by one, toward the inevitable breaking point . . . .  
  
"Chang, perhaps you should call Major Po," he gritted out.  
  
Good little soldier that he was, Wufei drew the small radio from his pocket. Before he could activate it Zechs snatched it and flung it away into the darkness. "Good night, Chang," he growled, pushing past the startled boy and flinging himself into the driver's seat. The car was already in motion when Wufei wrenched the door open and scrambled in. How the hell had he gotten there in time?  
  
"Get out!" Zech snarled.  
  
Chang locked the door and pulled his seatbelt into place, saying nothing.   
  
Zechs's anger ratcheted up a few more dangerous notches. "Suit yourself, then, little Chang!" he snarled, and floored the gas pedal, fishtailing out of the darkened lot into the main street with no thought for oncoming traffic. A red haze fell over his vision, coloring the world with his own self-loathing.  
  
Only the thought of the open highway ahead kept him from speeding inside the city limits; a high-speed chase by the police was not what he wanted. He kept just barely within safe limits until they left town, then opened up the Porsche again, gears whining and grinding as he forced it at top speed up the winding road that climbed the cliffs.   
  
Wufei was nothing more than a silent, accusing presence beside him as he tore through one dangerous curve after another, guardrails and caution signs strobing by as blurs in the sweep of his headlights.   
  
Useless.  
  
Cripple.  
  
Helpless.  
  
Useless.  
  
The black void beyond the guardrails beckoned him with a siren song of oblivion. Just keep the gas pedal down, damn the brake, a twitch of the wheel and it was all over except for one last glorious downward flight, a brief recapturing of the only life that had ever mattered to him, the pilot warrior's duel with gravity and space. Only this would be one battle he would be happy to lose.  
  
He came close, oh so very close, to finally giving himself that release. But each time he felt Chang's presence, recalled that perfectly calm voice asking, "Why did you never attempt suicide?" It made no sense, really. That should have taunted him over the edge. Instead it held him back; that, and the fact that Chang had not said a word or made any move to stop or distract him. Any normal person would be begging for his life or trying to calm him. Chang did neither, just sat there, one hand clasping the handgrip over the door, eyes fixed on the road ahead.  
  
The red haze began to recede, taking his anger and energy with it. He downshifted through a curve, eased off on the gas, fighting back a rush of nausea.   
  
Useless.  
  
Cripple.  
  
Helpless.  
  
Coward.  
  
The headlights caught a familiar sign in the distance and he downshifted again, taking the turn off at an almost sane speed.   
  
It was late. The road leading to the stretch of private beach below the estate was gated and there were no interloper's cars in sight. The car's remote opened the gates and he drove through, letting them lock behind them. If Po had followed them, she would get no further than this.  
  
He drove on along the sandy road until they were close to the water, then parked and climbed out. The fine white sand gave and shifted under his boots, but he didn't stop to pull them off, just stalked away along the waterline without a backward glance.  
  
Useless.  
  
Cripple.  
  
Helpless.  
  
Coward.  
  
+  
  
Merquise strode along in silence for nearly half a mile without acknowledging Wufei's presence. The younger man followed doggedly, not letting the seemingly deserted state of the beach deter him from his duty. It was cold, damned cold, and he'd dropped his coat in the parking lot. There had been no time to think of it then, though. Zechs had snapped in that parking lot, and not because he'd been scared or hurt. Caught off balance and unaware, he'd been easy prey. The Lightning Count, the most brilliant combat leader of his day, brought low by a handful of angry drunks.   
  
Wufei had had no choice but to defend him, then to stay with him when he tried to tear off on his own. He'd certainly had second thoughts by the time they were on the road. There was death in Zechs's face and as soon as they turned onto the cliff road Wufei had hastily made peace with his ancestors, not expecting to survive the ride. Adrenaline must have served him well, because as soon as the car stopped on that deserted beach, he had a hard time getting his legs to cooperate at all.   
  
"Duty!" he growled silently to himself, and forced himself to follow Zechs, keeping back fifteen feet or so to give the man what privacy he could, trying not to shiver as the damp salt breeze crept though his clothing. After a few minutes he began to shake for entirely different reasons, and feel very grateful to be alive to take this moonlit walk with a crazy man. A few minutes more and he'd mastered himself again, applying himself with renewed determination to simply staying close and awaiting new developments. Any resentment he felt over what Joey had said, or those drunks, had been blasted away by subsequent events. He was alive, and safe for the moment, and aware as never before of the pain that Zechs Merquise must be in. They should both be dead right now, bodies mangled in twisted metal at the bottom of a cliff, these same waves stained with their blood . . .  
  
"Steady, Chang!" he thought, pushing the thought and the accompanying wave of dizziness down savagely. They were alive. It was enough.  
  
Zechs stopped at last, still not acknowledging him, but keeping his back to him as he bent and...  
  
Wufei realized he was trying to get his fly unzipped to piss. He wanted to turn away, but couldn't. Head still down, Zechs urinated into the sand, and then began the obviously laborious task of putting himself back in order one-handed.   
  
With the exception of their first few sparring rounds, this was the first time in all the weeks Wufei had been with him that he saw Zechs look this clumsy and awkward. He rode well, fenced well, drove like he was still piloting a mobile suit, danced with remarkable grace, even-Wufei suddenly found himself fighting away the memory of the muscles flexing in the man's bare thighs as he'd had forceful sex with that young man that first night at the club-but even as he did so, he recognized the control and strength it must have taken, and the zest with which Zechs had done so. All that, but this most basic of tasks stripped away all his power and hard won control--the simple act of getting his penis tucked away and his fly zipped without hurting himself. When he was finally done Wufei saw the hasty, embarrassed way he wiped his fingers on the leg of his jeans; it made him wish he hadn't followed him. No one should be seen like this.  
  
They walked on, leaving the acrid smell behind. The moon was almost down now but the stars were bright enough to cast their faint shadows on the sand. Zechs stopped again, this time to stoop wearily down on the sand at the water's edge. He washed his hand, shook the water from his fingers, and then walked up the beach a little way to a stone outcropping. Sinking down, he lay back and turned his face to the sky. And once again he brought his right arm up in that futile half gesture, trying to cross it with the arm that was no longer there, letting it fall away. The last of Wufei's anger slipped away, leaving him empty and depressed. If he drew his gun right now and put it to Zechs's temple, would he be grateful?  
  
He didn't, of course, just sat down next to him, carefully lifting the tail of the silk shirt away from the rough surface and wrapping his cold hands in the pooled fabric in his lap.  
  
Zechs sighed. "Well, Chang? No lectures? No recriminations? Care to gloat just a little?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Come now, we can at least analyze the situation, can't we? Call it a debriefing, if you like. You must have an opinion. Out with it!"  
  
"You compromised your mission by drawing too much attention to yourself, and acting in a manner that went against the scenario. If you had continued with solo forays for dancing and anonymous sexual encounters, you might have been able to continue for some time. Your error was including me, then acting in a questionable manner."  
  
"Questionable? You're too kind. But I cannot argue with that, Captain Chang. You are quite correct."  
  
"I would advise against returning to that club, with or without a bodyguard."  
  
"A nice way of saying I screwed the pooch."  
  
"Perhaps a different club, and a lower profile . . ."  
  
Zechs snorted derisively. "Perhaps a different town. Word does get around, you know."  
  
"Yes, I was made aware of that by the bartender. We had caused talk."  
  
Zechs folded his arm behind his head. "Do tell, Chang. What were the locals saying?"  
  
"You were very popular when you came in alone. You were, to use Joey's term, 'hot' which I took to mean that you were considered very desirable. It was your actions with me that turned opinion against you."  
  
"They thought you were my date."  
  
"Yes." Something of his distaste must have come through, because Zechs turned to him for the first time, eyes glinting in the faint light in a way he could not interpret.  
  
"What did they say about you, Chang?"  
  
"No doubt you heard on your own."  
  
"I did, but I'd like to know what you heard, strictly on an intelligence gathering basis, of course." His tone belied this. He seemed to be taking some cruel pleasure in Wufei's discomfort.  
  
He pushed it away. "The assumption was that we were playing some sort of sexual power game, and that I was your-" He hesitated over the shockingly graphic term. "The passive sexual partner."  
  
"'A fucking hot bottom boy.' That's the phrase I heard."  
  
Wufei shuddered and turned away.   
  
"That bothers you?"  
  
"If you must know, then yes, it does."  
  
"You'd rather they'd thought you were my top?"  
  
"I would rather not have been the subject of such talk!"  
  
"Poor Chang. A ruined man at eighteen. Or is it nineteen? I am a cad. A crippled, useless, cowardly cad, good for nothing but dragging better men down with me."  
  
It was Wufei's turn to snort. "Self pity does not suit you, Merquise."  
  
"Perhaps I'm not doing it well enough to suit your refined sensibilities. Back to poetry then?  
  
'** _When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,  
I all alone beweep my outcast state,  
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,  
And look upon myself and curse my fate,  
wishing me like to one more rich in hope,  
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,  
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,  
With what I most enjoy contented least.'_ "  
  
He began in mockery, but the words slowly took on the ring of truth. He paused, and Wufei was startled to feel a light touch on his back.  
  
"' _Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,  
Haply I think on thee--'_ "   
  
He could have shrugged that hand away, turned with some cutting retort, but he didn't. That light touch was the only spot of warmth in this whole windswept landscape. That rasping voice held him immobile, like a snake charmer's flute.  
  
" _'And then my state,  
Like to the lark at break of day arising  
From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven's gate;  
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,  
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.'_ "  
  
The hand left his back and he heard Zechs sit up. Cold fingers touched his cheek. "You're freezing, Wufei. Where is your coat?"  
  
For an instant Wufei had a hard time getting his throat to work. Then he turned his face away from that touch. "Lost it in the fight. I'll reimburse your sister for the cost of it."  
  
"No need for that." He heard the rustle of leather, then Zechs was awkwardly attempting to drape his own jacket over Wufei's shoulders. Wufei ducked out from under it and stood. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Trying to keep you from getting sick?"  
  
"We should go back to the house."  
  
Instead, Zechs tossed the leather jacket at his feet and lay back on the rock, arm behind his head again. When he spoke again, the hard, mocking edge was back. "We'll go back when I say so. And those clothes you're wearing were not paid for by Relena. They were a gift. From me."  
  
Wufei blinked, too shocked to say anything for a moment. A gift? It came back to him, then, the brief look of pleasure in Zechs's eyes, seeing him these clothes, and the way he'd cajoled him into wearing the necklace. The way he'd touched him, adjusting it . . . He blushed again, feeling an echo of the sensations that touch had evoked.  
  
"Why?" he heard himself whisper.  
  
Zechs kept his gaze on the stars. "In appreciation for your help. And your company, these past weeks. Both have been most welcome. In better times, I'd have been a better man about it. Now?" He shrugged, a cramped, hampered attempt, like trying to cross his arms. "Now I've lost the social graces, it would seem. I simply flail about."  
  
"Thank you, then, for the gifts. I did not realize . . ." Wufei trailed off, embarrassed without knowing why. "They are more than my services warrant, but thank you."  
  
"You're welcome." Zechs turned and reached out toward his face, as if to touch his cheek again. Wufei forced himself not to turn away this time, but Zechs touched the carved jade at his throat instead, running his fingers lightly over it. "Do you know about the Shaolin Brotherhood of the White Lotus?"  
  
Wufei's brows arched in surprise. "Yes, they strove for purity of practice and honor in life and battle during a corrupt period in medieval China . . ." He trailed off. Of course he knew, but how had this man learned of it? And made a gift of it, which he'd completely misread and ignored! And tried to give back, too, he recalled with shame. He held still as those fingers slipped from the amulet to brush his throat, then dropped to his shoulder, stroking the silk.   
  
Zechs withdrew his hand and tucked his arm back behind his head again with a sigh, looking back to the sky. "Do you miss space, Chang?"  
  
Wufei blinked, still caught in that touch, then grasped at the offered change of subject. "At times, but I have no home there anymore."  
  
"Do you hate me for that?" Zechs actually sounded sad.  
  
"No," Wufei replied in perfect honesty. "You were not directly responsible, or even involved as far as I know."  
  
"No, I wasn't."  
  
Wufei did his best to ignore the little pang of relief those words gave him. "Then you are still in a better position to hate me. I killed your friends, your students. The men you trained," Wufei reminded him. Zechs had made a point of this, in their first days together.  
  
"I don't hate you, Wufei. It was war. We both had our orders." He sat up and shook his hair back. The bangs were long, as they always had been.   
  
In the starlight, Wufei could see him as he had once been, even in those black, casual clothes and the bruise darkening on his chin. This had been the Lightning Count, whom even Yuy had respected. "We should get back."  
  
Zechs nodded, then shot him an annoyed look. "Put on the jacket, Wufei. I can see you shivering."  
  
"I am-"  
  
"I don't move until you do."  
  
Wufei let out an exasperated breath, but humored him, shaking the sand from the folds of the leather and shrugging it on. It was too big on him by several sizes, especially through the shoulders, but it cut the wind. And it smelled of Zechs. Even after they'd reached the house and parted for night, he could still smell the man on him, on his skin and the silk shirt.   
  
He just changed into his tank top and loose sweats for the night when he remembered Sally. "Shit!" The two way was long gone, probably crushed under the wheels of some car in that dark lot. He went to the phone and dialed her cell phone. She picked up on the first ring.  
  
"Wufei? What the hell happened?"  
  
"Nothing. We're fine. Where are you?"  
  
"Just coming in the door, actually. I saw you tearing out of town like a bat out of hell and tried to follow. I lost sight of you. Where are you?"  
  
"We're back safely. He was upset and needed some time away from the house. We--"  
  
A knock on his door distracted him and he opened it to find Sally standing there, phone to her ear, looking distinctly displeased. Pushing past him, she closed the door and rounded on him.  
  
"What the hell happened tonight? You broke contact. You allowed him to place you both in jeopardy. When I called in to the club you were supposed to be at they said there'd been some sort of fight?"  
  
"It was nothing, just some drunks. I handled it."  
  
"Who was driving after that?"  
  
"He was."  
  
"And you let him?" Her pale blue eyes widened in disbelief. "What were you thinking?"  
  
"I will make a full report tomorrow," he said, feeling wearier by the moment. It had been a colossal fuck up on his part. She was right to call him on it. "As I said, he was upset and things happened very quickly. He got the radio away from me and destroyed it, wanting to throw you off. I had no choice but to stay with him any way I could. I was armed. He was in no danger." At least not from anyone but himself, he amended silently.  
  
Sally glared at him a moment longer, clearly not entirely satisfied with his account. Then her gaze shifted downward, to his chest. "What's that you have on?"  
  
Wufei's hand jerked up to his throat as he realized to late that he'd forgotten to take off the necklace. "Uh, just a--It was part of the outfit Merquise provided, cover for the--It was just part of the outfit." Damn it, why was he blithering like this, and why did his face suddenly feel so hot?   
  
Sally's eyes went a little wider and one fine brow arched a little higher as she saw him blush. "Ah. Then that would account for that, as well?" She smiled and pointed to the silk shirt he'd left on the bed, next to the discarded jeans. "I wish I'd gotten a better look at you before you left. You'll have to model it for me some time."  
  
"It was cover," he said again, feeling more uncomfortable by the moment. This was ridiculous! What did he have to feel uncomfortable about? It was only clothing. And jewelry. Which he never wore. A gift.  
  
And she was looking at the necklace again, the smile fading to a look of concern. "It's very pretty. Looks like a Yang Zhou piece, very delicate. Are you sure you're all right?"  
  
"I'm fine, just tired. I'll have my report in before breakfast."  
  
"There's no need for that. Just make sure it gets filed." She paused, looking as if she had something else to say.  
  
"What?" he demanded.  
  
"Are you OK with this assignment?"  
  
"Of course I am. What makes you ask that?"  
  
"Nothing, really. He just seems to keep you a bit off balance, that's all. I thought you were getting on better with him, but--"  
  
"I am getting on with him just fine," Wufei snapped. "He is a difficult man, caught in a very difficult situation."  
  
Sally nodded slowly. "You do seem to be able to get through to him. I just--Well, I just worry a bit about the effect he might be having on you. Are you really OK, Wufei?"  
  
"Yes, I am," he assured her.   
  
"All right, then." But she still paused, still looked like there was something else on her mind. He waited, but she just shrugged and gave him a quick hug good night, something she hadn't done since they'd broken up. "Good night, Wufei. See you tomorrow."  
  
He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Glancing in the mirror, he saw with a bit of alarm that his cheeks were still flushed, and that he'd forgotten that his hair was still down loose. Just as he'd forgotten to take off the silly necklace when he'd undressed. He reached to unclasp it, then paused, allowing himself to appreciate the skill with which it had been carved. It was a fine piece, and Sally was probably right about it being Yang Zhou, which meant it had been also been expensive. Like the coat, and the silk shirt. Nothing but the best for Zechs Merquise's fake date, apparently. Then he recalled the character inscribed on the back. He'd thought nothing of it when he'd first noticed it: such inscriptions were common and he'd assumed Zechs, who did not read Mandarin, had not known its meaning. But at the time he'd made that assumption, he had not known then that he was holding a gift in his hand. And Zechs had not spoken of Shaolin monks and their quest for physical and spiritual perfection, encompassed by this symbol. How had he known that?   
  
Wufei turned it over and read the backwards character in the mirror.   
  
Beauty.   
  
No, Zechs had not known. There was no message there! It could have said any number of things. It had nothing to do with the way the man had insisted on touching him tonight, so light and subtle, even when dancing, but invading his space all the same. No, it meant nothing.  
  
He took it off and placed it in the cotton-lined box on the nightstand, then turned out the light.  
  
It meant nothing. None of it. He composed himself for sleep as he always did, lying straight and flat, hands on his chest, slowing his breathing by degrees to induce sleep.   
  
It meant nothing, and was not his fault, that he dreamt of dancing with someone who started out being Sally but kept changing to Zechs, no matter how hard he tried to control it. And in the dream, Zechs held him very close, and he felt all those same, strange, troubling sensations, magnified a hundred fold. The dream Zechs was bolder, more insistent, holding him so close and slowly guiding them through the crowd to a darkened hallway lined with open cubicles where men screwed each other standing up. In the dream he slowly acquiesced. In the dream he did not fight when Zechs kissed him and touched him and pressed their bodies together. The dream did not last long enough for them to reach the cubicle, but he woke with a shameful mess in his sweatpants, all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Springes to catch wooodcocks-- From Hamlet, Act 1 scene iii meaning "snares to catch foolish birds"
> 
> Polonius' warning to his daughter, Ophelia, about what he fears are Hamlet's false vows of love.
> 
> Ophelia: My lord, he hath importuned me with love in honorable fashion.
> 
> Polonius: Aye, fashion [mere show] you may fall it. Go to, go to.
> 
> Oph: And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, with almost all the holy vows of heaven.
> 
> Pol: Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know when the blood burns, how prodigal the soul lends the tongue vows. These blazes . . . giving more light than heat, extinct in both, even in their promise as it is a-making, you must not take for fire.  
> \----
> 
> **Shakespeare again. Sonnet 29. Zechs has clearly had a typically Eurocentric education.  
> \---
> 
> Yang Zhou: a school of jade carvers known for their natural subjects, and the delicate realism of their work.


	43. Unruly Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei woke before dawn with a throbbing headache and the front of his sweats stuck to his skin by a large patch of cold, sticky semen. Disgusted and irrationally alarmed, he pulled gingerly at the mess, peeling the pants off, and hurried to the bathroom. Turning the water on full stream and as hot as he could bear, he stepped under the spray and just stood there for a while, groggy and disoriented. Guilty fragments of the dream haunted him, mingled with the night's actual events. He pushed his face into the spray and groaned softly. Perhaps Sally had been right; perhaps this assignment was becoming more than he could handle.   
  
The headache receded but in its wake more memories flooded in of Zechs's touch, both in reality and the dream. To Wufei's horror, his unruly body reacted as it had before, growing aroused and suffused by erotic sensations he had no wish to associate with the man he was tasked to guard. Or any man, he amended angrily, but his body was not listening. His cock stiffened and sprang upright against his flat belly, sensitive to every stinging drop of spray, every waft of steam. He had erections some mornings, like any normal young male, but this one was more intense, and the sensations, usually so localized, spread to his entire body, making his breath shallow and his legs feel hot and weak. He braced a hand against the wet tiles and reached for the control knob, intending to crank it the coldest setting like he always did, but this time he stopped. It had occurred to him last night that this whole terrible, uncontrolled series of physical reactions could be a signal that his body had gone too long without release. Like it or not, he must take action now.   
  
Turning his back to the pounding spray, he gripped his erection with his right hand and squeezed gently, then gasped again at the sharp stab of need that erupted through his balls and down his legs. Yes, it had been far too long; the need had never felt this intense before.   
  
He began to stroke himself slowly and the sensations escalated. He stopped fighting them, resigned to this course of action. Soon he was panting harder, caught in a rising storm of sensation and need, but nowhere near the climax he so badly needed. He dropped his left hand to cup his balls, rolling them //the way Sally used to// and letting himself finger that hard ridge of flesh just behind them. He was shaking now, hard enough that he had to lean his shoulder against the side of the shower stall. That deep animal part of his brain he kept on such a short leash was growling in the darkness like a dragon, filling him with a fiery heat that only made him crave more.  
  
This felt good, so good! He was going to lose control /to regain it!/ and he was so ready, so willing /why don't I do this more often?/ to take that leap but it still eluded him, growing instead to an almost painful intensity.  
  
He stifled a whimper and tightened his grip on his cock, pulling the loose outer skin up and down the hard shaft, pulling the tight ring of his fingers over the flared edges of the swollen weeping head. Preejaculate slicked his hand, adding to the pleasure. So good, but not there yet, don't stop, can't stop . . . He pictured himself pushing his cock into Sally, which was a little difficult, since he'd always insisted on having sex with the lights out. But he closed his eyes and tried to capture how it had felt, pressing his hard cock through the soft, hot, yielding folds of her vulva /pussy!/ and how that slick passage had closed around it, tugging and slipping against his sensitive flesh as he had thrust in and out, holding his breath and biting his lip to maintain silence and control. But this didn't help. He tried to remember what it had felt like when she gave him a blowjob that time, but that had been uncomfortable and embarrassing for both of them. She had tried to be spontaneous and he had reacted badly. She had called him a prude and cried . . . Oh gods, this wasn't helping!  
  
He let out another whimper and turned back into the hot spray, panting for release. He wanted to come. He wanted to find some memory that would drive him over the edge . . . Like a car off a cliff. Like the Porsche last night, rocketing around the turns with his own side of the car nearly over the edge, so close to death he could already feel himself falling, and all he'd been able to do was steal glances at the man gripping the wheel one handed, mouth drawn back in a snarl as he jerked the car around another turn, jerked it hard, jerked . . . Wufei whimpered louder, unable to stop the swift progression of that man behind the wheel to that man, the Zechs in his dream, naked behind him in the shower now, reaching around him to take over, body pressed behind him like he had been pressed up behind that boy in the sleazy, shadowed, too-public cubicle, thighs corded with muscle, pale, hard rounded ass clenching and unclenching with the effort as he'd pounded into . . .   
  
"Oh, god!" Wufei tried to bite back the cry and couldn't. He couldn't seal his lips or bite his knuckle because he couldn't let of his own genitals, not if the house blew up. Any more than he could stop himself from picturing a wet, naked Zechs holding him and pumping his cock for him while he fondled his own balls with one hand and reached back to . . .  
  
"OH GOD!" He came with a strangled cry, still pumping madly as white ropes of semen spurted across the shower stall and splattered against the tile, three, four, five times, then he was sliding down the wall to his knees, his own harsh breath loud in his ears. He braced both hands on the bottom of the tub, letting the water wash away the fluids and the last of his erection, streaming through the black hair hanging in a wet curtain around his face. But it could not wash away the warring states of shame and confusion, and warm sexual afterglow of satisfaction. He had never in his life come so hard.  
  
"Oh no!" he groaned and began to cry. "Oh gods, no!"  
  
+  
  
He was spared the indignity of having to face Zechs. The man sent word that he wasn't feeling well and kept to his room. Sally played chess with Wufei in the library, went for a short ride around the grounds, and sparred with him in the gym. The rest of the time he spent reading and idly rearranging his room. The club clothes were sent out to be cleaned. The necklace in its box went into the drawer of his nightstand, next to the Tao Te Ching he kept there.  
  
He spent hours meditating on nothing before bed that night and slept deeply, with no dreams.  
  
Zechs did not appear the following day, either. Wufei spent most of the morning at his katas, keeping his mind and body occupied. He showered and changed into his uniform, then retired to the gazebo with the copy of T.S. Eliot Zechs had lent him. Most of the other poems were less accessible than "The Hollow Men," many of them completely incomprehensible, with their references to Christianity and Western classical literature. He wasn't quite sure what the man was trying to say. But in one called "Preludes" he found another verse that gave voice to his own growing inner desolation.   
__  
You tossed a blanket from the bed,  
You lay upon your back, and waited;  
You dozed, and watched the night revealing  
The thousand sordid images  
Of which your soul was constituted;  
They flickered against the ceiling  
And when all the world came back  
And the light crept in between the shutters  
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,  
You had such a vision of the street  
As the street hardly understands;  
  
He read this passage several times, then set the book aside, striving to fight back the muddled mess of images and physical sensations building again in his head and blood. When that didn't work he found himself frantically trying to imagine a series of faceless, nameless female bodies in place of the one image that would not be denied.   
  
He was obsessed, obsessed with a suicidal maniac who fucked strangers in public. After all his years of training, self discipline and physical denial how was such a thing possible? It wasn't fair! He had never considered himself a particularly sexual person at all, and Sally had certainly agreed with the assessment. He'd taken pride in that! This all seemed like some horrible karmic joke, or maybe a punishment. But for what?  
  
Sally found him sweating through another bout of katas at mid afternoon. It wasn't by accident; she had a plate of sandwiches and a thermos of ice tea to share with him. He tried not to grimace at the choice of beverage-one which summoned unwelcome memories of his misunderstanding with Joey, and the man's admiring comments--gorgeous, pretty eyes, looking good!-- but she must have caught something, because she was giving him that concerned look again.   
  
"I visited Zechs just now," she told him.   
  
"What's wrong with him?" He tried to sound only professionally interested, but suspected he failed. She was still watching him.  
  
"He's more depressed than sick, I think. Did your report cover all the details of what happened the other night?"  
  
"Yes." It was true, though he had not included more than the barest facts. They'd gone to the club, left after a few hours, been accosted by drunks, there had been a slight scuffle, and they left to walk on the beach below the estate. End of story.  
  
Sally wasn't buying it. "Anything else? You said he was upset."  
  
"He couldn't fight back," Wufei admitted. "If he'd seen them coming, or had a weapon, he probably could have held them off, but it was dark and they jumped us."  
  
"You didn't draw your weapon."  
  
"There was no need. I didn't wish to create a worse incident by shooting anyone."  
  
"So why was he driving so fast, afterwards?"  
  
"Put yourself in his place, Sally. You said it yourself; he's in pain. I thought he was getting past it, but the fight brought it all right back up in his face, how crippled he is. He's nowhere near accepting and seems to have no philosophy for doing so."  
  
She considered this, then nodded. "You look tired, Wufei. Are you sleeping all right?"  
  
"Yes!" True again, if you only counted last night.  
  
+  
  
He spent a few extra hours in the gym that night, doing his best to exhaust himself and burn off the restless energy building up inside him. But the dreams came back anyway, stronger than before and fueled by his moment of weakness in the shower. He woke at 3 am and had to shower again, then again at 5:30 with another erection that demanded attention. Almost weeping with frustration, he lay in bed and jerked off, letting his mind go where it would. It went to Zechs, to that hand and those eyes and that rough, amused voice calling him 'little Chang' and urging him to come for him. He even found himself wondering what it would be like in that dim cubicle, held against the wall, being taken like that, and came with a silent scream, hips jack hammering against the mattress as he soaked himself and the sheets. Spent and limp, he turned his face into the pillow and wept again, caught between satisfaction and shame. More disgusted with himself than ever, he changed the sheets and showered, then wandered the halls as the sun slowly rose outside.   
  
The day that followed was no better. No Zechs. No relief. No escape from the madness slowly eroding his spirit. He was going to have to ask to be reassigned; but the thought caused him more anxiety, not less.  
  
That night the library remained empty, the fire unlit. The gym was dark, and no light showed down at the stables. More disconsolate by the moment, but having no idea what the hell it was he needed to feel better, he escaped to the darkened garden and found him feet leading him back to the shelter of the gazebo. There was no moon tonight. The pale gravel of the path caught the starlight, guiding him down the slope to the ornate structure above the dark mirror of the pond.   
  
Zechs was there. Wufei froze in the doorway as he spotted the dark figure silhouetted against the starlit garden beyond, leaning on the railing over the water. He knew him at once by the long legs and empty left sleeve.  
  
"Chang." The voice was dark and rough and low, unreadable. Wufei thanked the darkness for hiding the rush of heat to his face.  
  
"Good evening. Are you feeling better?"  
  
"Yes. I've come to a decision."  
  
Wufei's heart seemed to stop.  
  
"I'm going in for surgery tomorrow, to be fitted with a cybernetic arm."   
  
Wufei's heart gave a leap and started again. "That's--that's very good news."  
  
"I spent past few days acquainting myself with the various options and querying my doctors. This will mean losing part of what I have left of the arm, and a permanent metal attachment socket, but the capabilities of the cybernetic hand and arm are quite amazing. I might even be able to take those piano lessons after all."   
  
The dark chuckle that followed sent a jolt through Wufei, one that made his body sing. 'Stop it!' he ordered himself with rising alarm. This wasn't some fantasy; this was the real man, the one to whom he was nothing more than a keeper, his sister's employee, a body guard. And a damn poor one, too. He'd been so rattled and upset the other night he hadn't seen the attackers coming until it was almost too late.  
  
"Why so silent, Chang? I thought you'd be pleased."  
  
"I am!" Wufei cursed how weak and breathy that came out. He cleared his throat and walked over to join him at the railing. "I'm very pleased for you, of course. It should be a great help in your recovery."  
  
Below them, a few sleepy white koi glowed in the starlight just below the water's surface. He leaned on the rail, keeping his attention on them, rather than the way Zechs had moved closer, one hip hitched up on the wooden railing so close to his elbow. "I assume that the fight the other night had something to do with your decision?"  
  
That husky chuckle again, making the hair on his arms stand up and his skin prickle and his cock--no don't think about that!  
  
"Yes. I'd been slowly coming to it anyway, but getting knocked on my ass certainly accelerated the decision. I felt helpless. And--well, I didn't react well to that, did I?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I came close to killing us both. I think, if you hadn't been with me, that I wouldn't be standing here now."  
  
Wufei's unruly heart and body thrilled, but he managed to control his voice, at least. "Then it's good that I was."  
  
"Yes." Silence fell for a moment. "Would you trust me to drive again, then?"  
  
Wufei looked up and saw that Zechs was watching him closely. "Yes, of course."  
  
Zechs looked at him a moment longer, then his lips--full, beautiful lips, Wufei's traitorous mind filled in--those lips curved into a gentle, friendly smile. "Good. I'm leaving for the hospital very early tomorrow. Relena has made arrangements for security. You and Sally will remain here and look after things, I suppose. I'll be in the hospital for nearly a week, even if everything goes well. I'd like to go out tonight, and celebrate my return to good sense." That smile widened further, and Wufei thought he might have to risk appearing rude by moving away from the man. "A new place, of course, one where I haven't disgraced myself.  
  
"Of--of course." Good sense, indeed. "My clothes--that is, the ones you provided--uh, gave me--" Damn it, why couldn't he form a coherent sentence tonight? "I sent them out to be cleaned. They're not back yet."  
  
"I have some new ones for you. I meant to have them delivered sooner but I was distracted. I'll have them brought to your room and meet you in an hour or so, if that's acceptable?"  
  
"Yes. Thank you. Where are we going?"  
  
"Just dinner, I think. Something casual. Do you like sushi?"   
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. Sushi it is. I can eat that one handed as well as the next man." He grinned and pushed away from the railing, leaving Wufei there in the shadows with a racing heart, sweating palms and an erection hard against his belly. An hour. Damn it, he hoped he could get himself under control and dressed in an hour!


	44. Unruly Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

They met in the library, as always, and Zechs couldn't help smiling as Chang came in. The ordinary blue jeans and close-fitting black cashmere v-neck not only fit Chang, but suited him perfectly. He'd left his hair down without being coaxed for once, and looked more like a young college student or cafe worker now. He'd worn the necklace, too. It glowed against the golden skin of his throat, as delicate and elegant as the young man who wore it. He wondered what this boy would think if he knew it had been a gift to Zechs from Treize, back in the early days of their friendship, before a romance had ceased to be a possibility.  
  
All the good intentions he listed for himself these past few lonely days wavered like match flames in a strong draft. He did not intend to make a display of the boy, as he had the other night. Tonight he'd wanted to show Chang his better self, or at least a shadow of the man he'd once been. But the sight of that thin black sweater clinging to that slim waist, and the way the stressed denim hugged those slender hips; the man Zechs had become, after waking from that coma--well, that man's mouth watered at the sight of him.  
__  
/Run away, little boy!/  
  
"I'm glad the coat was recovered," Chang said, holding the long black overcoat over one arm.   
  
"It wasn't. I replaced it," Zechs told him, reaching for his own coat. He'd forgone the leather tonight, settling instead on a burgundy chambray shirt over his jeans and an old surplus field jacket he'd found in a resale shop during his academy days.   
  
Chang seemed embarrassed by this. "I'm sorry! It was careless of me to have lost the other one. You shouldn't have--" His fingers belied his words, unconsciously stroking the soft, expensive material.   
  
"It's nothing," Zechs assured him, his own fingers itching to do the same with that sweater. He'd replaced the coat for purely selfish reasons; it pleased him to see Chang wearing it, and those other "gifts". He looked like an entirely different person out of drab uniforms and shapeless trousers. No doubt he had a gun on him somewhere, and Zechs knew firsthand how deadly he could be even without one, but that only made his seeming delicacy that much sweeter. It was a pity, he thought, that he'd decided to forgo dancing tonight. But he really did owe Chang that much, after everything that had happened.   
  
"You look--that is, the clothes fit you well." He saw Chang go a darker pink, and the boy seemed to have trouble meeting his eye. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Chang recovered quickly, and those glistening black eyes met his, but they lacked the usual mask of stern calm. "No, I'm just not used to Western clothing. But I don't dislike them. The sweater is very soft, like the coat. I've never worn cashmere before."  
  
'You should never wear anything else,' thought Zechs, 'unless it's silk or leather or the finest Sanque linen . . .' Wonderful, now he was blushing.   
  
"Good. Let's go." He strode for the door in the vain hope of leaving his less than pure thoughts behind. He had no business entertaining any interest in Chang Wufei, now or ever. He must not let himself forget who paid the boy's salary, after all. He tried hard to hold onto that thought as he watched Chang cross the cobbled drive, the loose black coat flowing around those slender, denim clad legs.  
  
As they neared the car, however, an inspiration struck. "Chang, I'm a bit tired tonight. Would you mind driving?"  
  
As he'd hoped, Chang's look of surprise was liberally mixed with delight. How could any former suit pilot not be a motor head? He slid in behind the wheel like he'd been driving such a car every day of his life and up shifted onto the highway so smoothly Zechs hardly felt the transition. His own hard won one-handed skills seemed ludicrous by comparison. How he'd loved to see this kid with his hands on the controls of his gundam, those long, graceful golden fingers wrapped around the handgrips. He fixated a moment on the way those fingers gripped and caressed the gearshift knob and his breath caught in his throat as imagination took over.  
  
/Run away, little boy!/ that disapproving inner voice cautioned again. This was not one of his back room conquests, nor would ever be. He'd made up his mind. But he couldn't stop watching him.  
  
Chang came alive behind the wheel. Those dark eyes narrowed as if scanning the road ahead for enemy suits, and his mouth set in a tight, almost disdainful smile. He did not take the road quite as fast or as recklessly as Zechs had, but only by a small margin. It was an exhilarating ride. Zechs switched on the radio to a hard driving rock station, rolled his window down, and let the cold night air slap him in the face.   
  
If they'd met in a different time, a different world, what then?  
  
The restaurant in question was in Saroni, a small waterfront resort just beyond Le Fleur. He'd had an out-of-the way-table reserved and seated himself with his empty sleeve to the wall. He ordered miso, pickled vegetables, and Japanese beer to start, then let Chang chose the rest. The boy avoided the shellfish, but did not waste time with the more mundane, touristy combination rolls, either. He was a purist, and they ended up with a pleasing mix of yellow tail, salmon, several roes, and smoked eel.   
  
Chang subsided back into his abstracted mood once the beer arrived. He sipped at it and picked at the label, staring out the window at the lights in the harbor. Every now and then his hand rose to toy with the jade at his throat. Zechs waited quietly, devouring him with his eyes.  
  
Chang noticed at last, blushed, gulped some beer. "This surgery? How long is the recovery?"  
  
"If I don't develop any serious infections, then I should heal quite quickly. They'll use the same sort of regeneration technology they did before, in a limited application. The major concern is the neural translation. They're using an alloy of gold, titanium and gundanium now. I won't actually have feeling in the hand, but something close to it."  
  
"What about the weight?"  
  
"They will match my other arm."  
  
Chang nodded. "Your balance is already improving. That should bring you back to normal."  
  
"And improve my driving?"  
  
Chang smiled. "There is little need for improvement there."  
  
"And my fighting ability? Tell me, Chang, can you teach me your style of self defense?"  
  
"Wu Yi?"  
  
"Yes. I've been thinking, since you so ably defended me, that a system that relies so heavily on kicking might be of use to someone like me. Can you instruct me? I'll see that you are compensated for your time."  
  
Chang hesitated, blushing again, and looking down at his empty plate. "I--I will think about it." He fiddled nervously with his chopsticks.  
  
Zechs was surprised; he'd assumed Chang would approve of his plan. More than that, though, the hesitation stung his pride. "You think me an unworthy pupil?"  
  
"No! Not at all! I just--I don't know if I am a worthy teacher."  
  
"False modesty, Chang? You've had no problem challenging my ability as a swordsman."  
  
Chang looked up as if to respond, but said nothing, just stared at him a moment with such uncertainty that Zechs let the subject drop. Something was bothering the boy deeply, making him look sad and vulnerable. His lower nature stirred toward the perceived opportunity, but he held back, letting concern override it. "Something wrong, Wufei? You've been distracted all evening."  
  
"A personal matter. I would rather not discuss it, if you don't mind."  
  
"I see." And why should he? He'd allowed himself to think of Chang as something of a friend, but the boy had not lost sight of the reality of their situation. He would not make a fool of himself. "If you're finished, perhaps we could walk along the waterfront. I could use some air."  
  
A winter storm was blowing in off the sea. A cold damp wind blew Chang's dark hair around his face as they strolled along the boardwalk above the harbor. The awkward discomfort between them increased with silence.  
  
"I'm becoming a creature of the night," Zechs sighed.   
  
"It's safer for now."  
  
"Perhaps I should consider plastic surgery to change my face," he replied, meaning it as a joke.  
  
"That would be a great shame," Chang muttered, more to himself than to Zechs.  
  
"What makes you say that, little Chang?" he couldn't help asking.  
  
He turned to answer, then stumbled over a loose board in the walkway. Zechs caught him under the arm before he could fall. Chang pulled away and righted himself, but not before Zechs had both savored the feeling of that lithe young body under the cashmere coat, and the fact that Chang was trembling.  
  
"Wufei, what's wrong with you tonight?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You're distressed. Have I offended you?"  
  
Chang shook his head, eyes downcast. Gods, he looked so vulnerable like that! Zechs could not resist the urge to slip his hand under that chin and tilt his face up, trying to see his eyes in the faint light of the streetlamps. Yes, he was trembling. And not pulling away from his touch for once, either. But he looked perfectly miserable.   
  
Zechs let his hand slip away. "Perhaps we should head back?"  
  
He turned to go, but Wufei stayed where he was, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat. "I'm considering asking for a transfer. Off your security detail."  
  
"I see." Zechs felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. He'd over estimated Chang's patience, reformed his actions too late. But he still found himself asking, in a voice far more clipped and terse than he'd intended, "May I ask why?"  
  
"I am losing--I have lost the necessary objectivity. You saw it that night in the parking lot. You could have been badly hurt."  
  
"And it would have been my own damn fault. You reacted perfectly. I was tremendously impressed."  
  
But Chang just stood there, staring at the rough boards under their feet. Zechs thought again how different he looked from his usual stern, controlled self, but this time he felt nothing but shame, as if he'd broken something precious. He had. Chang had seen him at his worst, his most base, and reacted as any honorable man ought to.  
  
Self-disgust rose in his throat like bile, and all his old bitterness came flooding back. "Come then," he snapped. "Let's go."  
  
He'd taken several steps before he realized that Chang was still not following. He'd turned away, head down, shoulders hunched. He looked lost, beaten. Concern warred with pride, but Zechs went to him, put a hand on his shoulder and turned him, unresisting. The lamplight glistened on one smooth cheek, caught in the track of a single tear.  
  
"My god, Wufei, what is it? Are you ill?"  
  
"I think I must be," he whispered, and the look in those glistening black eyes was like that of a cornered animal. A fresh tear fell, streaking his other cheek. He wiped it away absently. "Please, forgive my weakness! I don't know what to say."  
  
Zechs cupped his cheek, feeling for fever, and Wufei shuddered, inclining his head to his touch. Zechs felt warmth under his hand, but it was not fever, though Wufei was trembling more now. Zechs let his fingers slide back into the soft black hair. Wufei let out a wounded little sound and stepped closer, bringing his right hand up to Zech's chest. He did not push him away, just let it rest there, a shy, light touch of trembling fingers. Zechs stroked down through Wufei's hair to the back of his neck. He could feel the clasp of the necklace under his little finger and the fuzzy edge of the sweater, and the heat of that golden skin through it all. When Wufei did not fight that touch, either, things began to come clear.  
  
"Wufei," he said, softly as if he were speaking to a frightened child. "What is it you need to tell me?"  
  
"I--I can't be like those men in the club." It was a whisper so soft he had to lean down to hear it. "The ones you--you took to the back. I can't do that."  
  
"I would never ask you to! You thought I expected that?"  
  
Wufei shook his head.   
  
"I see." Zechs gently caressed the tense muscles under his hand. "Are you saying you find yourself attracted to me?"  
  
Wufei lowered his face with a guilty nod.  
  
"Look at me, please." But he wouldn't, or couldn't. "Then just listen. You've seen me at my worst all these weeks, my very lowest point. I won't apologize for what you saw in that club; I needed that to convince myself I was still alive. And those boys? They got just what they wanted, believe me. But I would never treat someone as fine as you that way. I would give you nothing but my best." Slowly, carefully, he drew Wufei closer and the boy let him, until he was leaning into him, face against the faded front of Zech's coat. Zechs stroked his hair, marveling at this sudden change, baffled to guess the cause.   
  
Wufei shuddered against him, then pulled back a little, wiping his eyes again. "You are seeing me at my worst, as well. I've never--I am ashamed."  
  
"You have nothing to apologize for, Wufei!"  
  
"You're wrong." Wufei took Zechs's face between his hands and pressed his lips to his in an awkward, tight-lipped kiss.   
  
Zechs had never missed his other arm more than now, but he pulled Wufei against him with the one he had as lust and a strange sense of freedom rushed through him. Wufei allowed it for a moment, then broke away.  
  
"I can't! I don't understand what's happening to me! I'm not--I'm not--" His voice dropped to a whisper again. "I'm not gay!"  
  
Zechs had a dizzying moment of deja vu. It was that night with Treize all over again. "Then why did you just kiss me?" he asked as the old hurt resurfaced. "All this just now? Do you really expect me to believe you feel nothing?"  
  
"I do feel! I feel very strongly for you, but I don't know *why*-- No, that's not true. I am powerfully attracted to you, and I admire you as well. It is myself I hate in this, my lack of control and understanding. I see already that I've hurt you, and I had no wish to do that. You see why I must--" His voice broke and another tear betrayed him. "Why I must leave."  
  
The sight of tears on that proud, anguished face swept away Zechs's own petty hurt before it could take root. He closed the distance Wufei had put between them, closed his hand over the collar of Wufei's coat and brought their lips together again, showing the little fool what a kiss could be between them. Wufei moaned against his mouth, tried to back away, then seemed to collapse all at once, wrapping his arms around him like a drowning man. He moaned again, more softly, trembling in Zechs embrace but making no move to get away.  
  
'You're wrong, little Chang,' Zechs thought in triumph. 'Your head may tell you that you're straight, but your body is much wiser.' He stroked his hand firmly down Wufei's back, pulling him closer, and felt the boy's arms tighten around him. Yes, this little body was much wiser, and knew what it needed, just as Zechs's did. But even as his heart leaped, he did not forget what he'd said. Wufei did deserve better than a quick fuck. There would be no joy in that, and no future. The joy would be in handling him with the delicacy he inspired. A boy like this should be pampered and savored, perhaps even loved. And it must be done slowly, for his fears would not be lightly overcome.  
  
"I can't be like those others," Wufei said again, pressing his face into Zechs's chest. "I don't know what I can give you, but not that!"  
  
"No, not that. You have my word," Zechs agreed, stroking his cheek. "But just so you know, I've always been careful, even in clubs like that." When Wufei's brows drew down in a look of confusion, he chuckled softly. "I always use protection, no matter how much of a hurry I'm in."  
  
Even in this light he could see the boy blushing. It was hard not to ravish him, looking like that, but Zechs restrained himself.  
  
"Why?" Wufei asked. "Why would you care?"  
  
"For myself? I didn't. But I'd never want to be responsible for another's misery."  
  
Wufei nodded slowly, and gave the hint of a smile. "You are not without honor, no matter what you think."  
  
"Honor? Conscience, perhaps. Enough not to drive you off a cliff, anyway. And enough to take you home and let you sleep on this. Alone," he added quickly, lest there be any misunderstanding. "I'm leaving early tomorrow, as I said. You won't see me again for a week. Leave things as they are for now, please. Make yourself comfortable there, meditate, or whatever else you need. I won't disturb you. When I come back we will talk about this calmly. But I really do need you to be there when I get back. Will you do that for me? If you decide that this has all been a mistake, then I will accept that and send you on your way with a glowing reference. That's all I ask. One week."  
  
"All right. I'll be there. But I can't promise--"  
  
"I'm not asking for anything more than that. Agreed?"  
  
"Yes. You have my word. I will stay."  
  
"Thank you. One last kiss then, for luck tomorrow?"  
  
Wufei sighed and nodded, allowing Zechs to slip his hand inside the open front of his coat and finally satisfy himself as to how that slender body felt under thin black cashmere. Moving his hand slowly, making a caress off it, he found the jut of a shoulder blade, the ripple of muscle, and curve of a hip. All this, and a mind as fine and cultured as any he had ever encountered, with a warrior's soul and a maiden's modesty. Yes, he could fight his way through for this, against himself, the surgery, and against Wufei's fears. 'If you were straight,' he thought, as their lips met again, 'you would not kiss me like this, or feel like this pressed against me.' Wufei's lips did not open for him, but they were soft and yielding now. His hands clutched at the back of Zechs's coat and he could feel the hard length of the boy's erection against his thigh.   
  
Wufei must have been right about his honor, for Zechs let him go and steered them both back to the car.  
  
He insisted that Wufei drive back to keep the boy's mind occupied, and was pleasantly amazed when he was allowed one last shy kiss in the shadows of the garage.   
  
"A week," he said, holding Wufei's hand to his heart. "Please try not to worry yourself sick over this. You are not obligated in any way."  
  
"I know that."  
  
"Good." He allowed himself to caress that soft cheek one last time. "I hope you'll have some new poems to cheer me with, at least. I've missed that lately."  
  
Wufei gave him a soft little smile. "So have I."


	45. Busted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei paced his room for hours after their return, trying to take in the enormity of the situation. He had meant to do the right thing, the honorable thing, but had proven once again to be too weak. Instead of resigning, he'd kissed Zechs Merquise!   
  
In the privacy of his room he touched his lips, recalling with mounting disbelief what he had done. The heat of the man, especially once he took control; Wufei's breath quickened at the thought, and his body yearned for more. He shivered, recalling how that broad hand had explored his back under his coat with such bold authority.   
  
The pleasure of this memory made him feel so guilty, but even that only seemed to fuel his desire. His skin burned with it and his cock had taken on a sudden demanding life of its own. Shame scorched him as he thought how he had been the one to initiate that first kiss, and the last one in the garage. But he still smiled, remembering the look of pleased surprise Zechs had given him.   
  
The whole evening had been intense, on the edge of control. Driving the car, kissing the man. Allowing another man to touch him like that--it should have appalled him, repelled him. Instead, he ached for more.   
  
A week! It was going to take more than meditation and poetry to get him through that, and what if, at the end of it, Zechs decided that he didn't want him after all? He'd already as much as told him he could not imagine having sex with him. As much as the fantasy inflamed him, he knew in reality that he could never go through with such a thing. It was inconceivable.  
  
A man like that would not be content long with a few kisses and gropes. No, it was doomed, but Wufei's body still hummed with newly awakened knowledge. Right or wrong, he'd liked kissing him, and loved the way it felt to be held close like that, and to be told that he was something fine and desirable. It was weak, so weak, to melt like a girl at such words, but he had and would again, given the chance.   
  
He brushed his teeth and took off his clothes, folding the jeans and sweater carefully into a drawer. He liked those clothes. He liked how they felt on him, especially the sweater, and he'd really liked the look on Zechs's face when he'd seen him in them. He reached for his nightclothes, then left them there and shut the drawer. Taking a hand towel from the bathroom, he turned off the lights, climbed into bed naked, and silently gave body and mind what they craved. When he was done he used the towel to clean himself and slept like a baby, still naked.  
  
+  
  
He overslept the next morning, but there were no training appointments to be kept. He tried to lie in bed, enjoying the extra time, but the light of day proved sobering. Doubts crept in again the longer he lay there, forcing him up and into his normal routine. He took the crusty towel in the shower and let it rinse out in the bottom of the tub as he washed. Wringing it out, he checked it for damning stains and buried it in the hamper.  
  
As if to make up for his sins, he dressed carefully, making certain every crease of his uniform was perfect, and braided his hair back neat and tight. Looking in the mirror, he saw the person he recognized, except for the hint of a guilty smile around his eyes.   
  
"Zechs wants me," he whispered, and watched his cheeks go red. It was a guilty secret, like his drug use, and he suddenly realized how much part of him needed something like that. Under all the discipline and philosophy and scholarship, all real enough, lurked something else, something that seemed to be fighting its way out this past year. He looked into his eyes in the mirror again; was that this entire thing with Zechs was? A need to rebel? It was the best explanation, of course, but what would that mean? He'd come to genuinely like and admire Zechs, despite the man's own flaws. /Or because of them?/ his reflection accused.  
  
Perhaps in a week he could find an answer for that.   
  
+  
  
He was on his way to the dining room when he met Sally in the hall. One look at her face told him that some shit had hit some fan somewhere.  
  
"There you are! Where have you been?" she said with poorly concealed relief.  
  
"I overslept. What's wrong?"  
  
"Commander Une is here."  
  
"Une? Has something happened? Is Zechs's all right?" He checked his watch automatically, trying to gauge where in transit Zechs might be.  
  
"He's fine. She told me that much, but wouldn't say anything else until you were there. She's in the library." She leaned close and dropped her voice, though the hallway was empty. "There are half a dozen Preventer agents I don't know in the front hall."  
  
The room looked odd in daylight. He'd seldom come in here before evening. The heavy velvet drapes were drawn back and sunlight streamed in, gleaming harshly on the colored leather bindings on the shelves. Une stood by a long table against the wall, hands clasped behind her back as if at attention. She was not smiling.  
  
"Chang. Po. Please be seated. A situation has arisen that involves both of you. I won't mince words. It's serious."  
  
Wufei sank into the armchair he always used, watching as Une took the chair he'd come to think of as Zechs's. She had a manila folder under her arm, and he recognized the top-secret stamps on the front.  
  
"As of this moment, you are both officially on suspension with pay, pending further investigation."  
  
"On what possible charges?" Sally demanded, incredulous.  
  
"Dereliction of duty, to begin with. You should try and keep your head, Po. I think the charges against you are unfounded." She turned to Wufei. "I'm not sure if I can help you, Chang. I need your explanation for these." She passed him the folder.  
  
Wufei unsealed it and shook out a handful of color eight by tens. From the angles and quality, he knew at once they were surveillance photos. Of him. With Zechs.  
  
The first two showed them dancing together at the Le Fleur club. The clothing they had on told him this was the second visit. There was one of Zechs entering one of the sordid cubicles with the dark haired boy he'd gone with that night, but thankfully, the next was of himself, leaning across the bar to speak with Joey. There was even a shot of him throwing that drink in Zechs's face. Quite a picture it made, too. The tabloids would have loved these. Their photographer appeared to have missed out on the fight. The next picture was a grainy long distance shot of them eating in the sushi restaurant. He wasn't sure what anyone could make of this. He looked sullen and Zechs was looking out the window. But the next five told the tale clearly enough; shot after shot of them kissing on the boardwalk like a couple of love struck teenagers.   
  
The thought brought a bitter smile to his lips. Is that what he was? He certainly looked the part, with his hair down, coat open over his jeans. And Zechs wasn't too many years past his teens either? Was he really only twenty-three?  
  
"You find this situation amusing?" Une's tone was deadly.  
  
"No, Commander, I don't. May I ask why we were under surveillance and by whom?"  
  
"I can't answer that, except to tell you that I received these directly from Relena Peacecraft, and that it is she who is bringing charges against you."  
  
"Relena?"   
  
"Apparently she has been concerned for some weeks about the effect you've had on her brother. According to her, he is a fragile, unbalanced man and you appear to be taking advantage of that fact."  
  
"Taking advantage?" Sally snapped. "How, exactly? Wufei's been *wonderful* with him, far more patient and understanding than he deserved. The man may be damaged, but he's not fragile! Wufei's put up with a lot of shit from him, and done him more good than anything I've been able to do for him."  
  
Une waited until she'd subsided, then pointed at the photos. The last one showed Zechs kissing him good night in the garage. Their stalker's coverage had been impressive. "I'm perfectly willing to listen to your side of things, Chang, but here are the facts as I have them from Relena. You encouraged Milliardo to take up fencing again, even after Relena, who is his guardian and your employer, voiced opposition."  
  
"She mentioned that she wasn't pleased. She did not forbid it, and Zechs-Milliardo- he made it equally clear to her that he wished to continue with it. I tried to explain that it was simply a form of physical therapy to improve his balance and his confidence and she didn't listen. But she never ordered me not to."  
  
"Very well. How to you answer the charge of accepting gifts from him, in direct violation of Article 23 of the Preventer Code of Ethics?" She took a list from the breast pocket of her uniform. "I have an inventory here, items ordered by and signed for personally by Peacecraft himself. They include two Le Mornai cashmere overcoats, valued at $950 each, one pair Dolchi shoes, $450, one Dolchi belt, $285, a Moira Yung silk shirt-"  
  
"He did--provide those!" Wufei interrupted, stunned at the prices. "But I was acting undercover as his bodyguard at those places, by his request. I'd assumed that Relena had provided the clothing for the job. I didn't know until last night that they were from him. Give me your inventory and I'll see that everything is returned."  
  
Une handed him the inventory. Some things he did not recognize, perhaps items that Zechs meant to give him later? He'd scanned it twice, appalled at the expense, before he noticed that the jade necklace did not appear anywhere on the list. After seeing how much the coat had cost, it was something of a relief. "I can account for most of these. I suggest you check with his valet about the rest."  
  
"And your behavior in these photos, particularly the last few? Was that part of your 'cover', as well?"  
  
Wufei had never wanted so badly to lie in his life, but honor would not allow it. "My actions at the dance club were cover, as requested by Mr. Peacecraft. His actions there were his own. He is an adult and while I did not approve, I did not think it my place to interfere."  
  
"I see. And the kissing? Was that at his insistence, as well?"  
  
Wufei met her disapproving glare head on. "That was personal, between Mr. Peacecraft and myself. I have nothing more to say on the subject except that it was unplanned and mutually consensual."  
  
"And in direct violation of Article 5 of the code! And whatever the circumstances, planned or not, Relena Peacecraft is fully prepared to pursue this as if you intentionally set out to seduce her mentally incompetent brother while he was in your care! Major Po here may be indicted as an accessory."  
  
"Oh my god!" Sally muttered. Both charges meant serious jail time if they were convicted.  
  
"Finally, and perhaps most damning is the fact that you neglected to inform Major Po of last night's little outing, or arrange for any backup, making it an unauthorized escort-that's reckless endangerment at the very least, if Relena gets the right lawyer. Whose consensual idea was that?"  
  
Wufei sank back in his chair. "Oh god!"  
  
"I didn't even know you'd gone out," Sally murmured.  
  
Wufei shook his head in disbelief, overwhelmed at his own stupidity. "I forgot. I was upset, and I forgot."  
  
"You forgot?" This seemed to outrage Une more than any of the rest of it, and rightly so. It was the biggest, most serious glaring error he'd committed of the lot. "What the hell were you thinking, Chang!"  
  
He dropped his face into his hands. "I meant to. I was going to. I took my sidearm and my phone. But-I was distracted and I forgot."  
  
"I see." The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees. "This is serious, Chang. I gave you this assignment not only because Relena asked for you two personally, because she trusted you, but also because I trusted you. You are my two best agents! What on earth went on here?"  
  
"Nothing!" Sally told her, trying to defend him. "Apart from the last day or so, Wufei's conduct has been exemplary, as always, in the face of a very difficult situation. Milliardo Peacecraft is a bit unbalanced, it's true, and he's been lashing out at life in general, mostly at Wufei because he's here and he was a fellow pilot. Both of them have told me repeatedly that it takes a pilot to understand one and they are right. I gave what oversight I felt was necessary, but it was Wufei I became concerned about, not Peacecraft. It has been extremely stressful for him, dealing with the man, and I thought things had improved considerably. In fact, I'm convinced of it. Just as I am convinced that by no definition is Milliardo Peacecraft mentally incompetent. The regular reports I have filled will bear that out. He may not be normal, but he's as sane as most mobile suit veterans I know walking around out there. His unusual political situation and the manner in which Relena has chosen to protect him are as much a part of the problem as anything. I tried to tell her that and god knows, Milliardo did. But it's not Wufei's fault. If some sort of relationship has developed between the two of them, well, it's certainly not the first we've seen of the kind, is it, Une?"  
  
Something in her tone made Wufei lift his head just in time to catch the warning look Une gave her.  
  
"Be that as it may, Po, Relena Peacecraft is a very powerful young woman, with very strong views on certain things, especially when it concerns her own family. Like it or not, fair or not, she has made it clear that there can be no such 'relationship' between Chang and her brother. She will destroy both of you to prevent it and has the power to do so. However, I am authorized to offer you an out."  
  
"An out?" Sally repeated, clearly seeing prison bars in her future.  
  
"Yes, and it's a one-time only offer, so listen up, both of you. I was up most of the night calming her down and brokering you this deal. If you come out of this without a prison record, I'll expect children named in my honor, is that clear? Good. Here it is. Relena knows her brother is gay. Hell, anyone who went to the Academy knows it and no one but Relena gives a damn. She was aware of his little jaunts out to Le Fleur before you were, Wufei, and she was willing to turn a blind eye as long as it was just a few quick fucks here and there. But she perceives his feelings for you as some sort of threat, and let's face it, this would cause one hell of a scandal if it hits the papers like this. It's an embarrassment for her, personally and politically, and a huge black eye for the Preventers."  
  
"So, what? A pistol and an empty room? Or are those men out front a handy firing squad?" Sally demanded angrily.  
  
"Nothing so dramatic. You both take an extended leave of absence for health reasons, split as a team, and return to other assignments at a time of my choosing. Po, you get a quiet, sealed reprimand from me. Chang is demoted to second lieutenant on the dereliction of duty charge, but it ends there. No trial. No jail time. Finally, and here's the real bottom line, Chang; you both agree to have no further contact with Milliardo Peacecraft. Ever. Not in any form, written, face-to-face, or otherwise. That's it. Take it or leave it. I need your answer right now. Then you have exactly thirty minutes to get your shit together and be escorted off the premises. It's the brig or L-4, kids. What's it going to be?"   
  
"Has Milliardo been told about this?" Sally asked.  
  
"No, and he won't be, beyond the dereliction charge. As far as he will know, Chang simply left."  
  
Wufei went cold all over. He'd promised Zechs he would be here when he got back. He'd given his word! After his disgraceful show of weakness last night, what would Zechs think? That it had meant nothing?  
  
"I was brought in as an expert on ex-suit pilots and post traumatic stress, right?" Sally was saying, sounding equally upset. "It's in that capacity that I'm telling you, this is a terrible thing to do to Milliardo at this point in his recovery. It's cruel. It could undo every good thing Wufei and I have managed here."  
  
Une let out a long breath. "Between you and me? You may be right. You forget that I've known him longer than either one of you. If I'd had any idea of what was happening here, with Wufei and Zechs, I might have been able to help. But I didn't, and I can't beyond calling in every favor I could to keep the pair of you out of jail. Take the deal, please. There is no other way, other than complete and utter ruin for everyone concerned. And that won't help him either, will it?" She looked to Wufei as she said this, and he saw a plea behind the hard mask. He weighed the options just as she must have already: a trial, the media feeding frenzy, Zechs's private life dragged across news screens for months, becoming a joke in the mouths of talk show hosts and cheap pundits, all thanks to his own weakness and a stupid mistake.  
  
He drew himself up, handed Une his gun and his badge folder, and stood at attention. "I accept your conditions, Commander. So does Major Po."  
  
Sally shot him an angry look, but stood with him and surrendered her gun and ID. "Under protest, Commander. I formally request that it be stated clearly in my file, whatever else you say, that I think this is not in the best interests of Milliardo Peacecraft. When Zechs finally puts a bullet through his head or hangs himself, I want it on record that I warned you."  
  
"Noted, Major. Go gather your things."  
  
An armed Preventer was waiting outside the library to escort each of them to their room. Wufei's minder was a tall, grim looking man, former OZ by the look of him. Wufei hated him on sight, but was grateful it wasn't anyone he knew, and the he remained outside his door, giving him the privacy to pack. No doubt his bags would be searched, and his room, but he would give them nothing to find.   
  
For now he let himself go into mission mode, as Duo used to call it, concentrating on nothing but the immediate task at hand. He quickly packed his few belongings, carefully laying aside the clothes Zechs had given him in plain view on the bed. But try as he might, he could not fend off for long the self-recrimination that had been slowly building in him. How far gone had he been, to have messed up so badly, and on such simple things? He should have been stronger, said good-bye to Zechs and left, as he'd planned. What sort of madness had driven him to this? He cast a guilty eye at the hamper, thinking of the stained towel hidden there. He supposed he should be grateful Relena's spies hadn't kept watch on him here.   
  
But never mind that. He'd hanged himself and he'd pay the price. But what about Zechs? Sally's words haunted him. She thought Zechs would take his departure badly, and she didn't know half of what he did about the man's state of mind.   
  
He would *not* slink away to save his own skin if it meant Zechs thinking he'd simply deserted him. It was time to stop being stupid and blind. He glanced around the room. There wasn't a lot to work with, but he was used to that. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning the sort of inner calm that had served him so well in battle. He was a gundam pilot. Zechs had flown Epyon. They were not the sort of men to be crushed by a few petty bureaucrats and meddling women. He opened his eyes again and noted the stack of books on his night table, Zech's Eliot among them. He sat down on the bed and picked out one of the newer ones he'd ordered for his own collection, a slim volume of Japanese verse he'd been reading in translation. One poem in particular had been in his mind since last night, by a man named Fujiwara no Teika; he'd considered presenting it to Zechs as a welcome home gift.   
__  
After his tryst  
he too may be looking up  
on his way back home -   
while for me a night of waiting  
ends with the dawn moon  
  
He'd been afraid it might be too sappy or forward, and had set it aside, but now it would have to do. He quietly tore out the page, x'd out the meaningless poem on the back of it, folded the sheet over several times to look like a scrap paper bookmark and scrawled the Chinese character from the necklace, 'beauty', at the top of it, hoping it would appear as nothing more than an idle doodle to the casual observer, instead of a flare being sent up. Knowing he was in direct violation of his plea bargain with Une, he slipped it between the pages of the volume of Emily Dickinson that had been gathering dust on the nightstand with the edge of it just showing, then found another scrap of paper and scribbled what appeared to be a hasty note: "Sorry to keep this so long. You were right. Dickinson is brilliant, most worthy of perusal. Didn't care much for the Eliot. Agree with you that his verse is 'halting, overly sentimental, and didactic.'" He left it undated and unsigned, praying Zechs remembered and understood the signal he was sending. Assuming he ever saw it. He left this note hanging out of the book in plain sight, and placed both books and the Japanese verse collection back on the nightstand with the Dickinson uppermost. That done, he squared his shoulders and left the room, aware of the slight weight of the jade pendant against his throat under his uniform. He'd forgotten to take it off again, and it hadn't been on Relena's comprehensive manifest. Presumably her spies had fucked up at least a little and didn't know that this had been one of the damn gifts, too.  
  
Fuck Relena and her lists and spies and lawyers! his newfound voice of rebellion crowed. Maybe its absence would serve as a signal to Zechs, too. Gods, he hoped so.  
  
+  
  
Several long black sedans were waiting outside. He went quietly, maintaining his dignity as the servants stared and whispered. He was allowed to ride with Sally and Une. His bags were taken to a different vehicle of course, to be searched. They were welcome to his dirty underwear and socks. He hoped they'd be gentle with his computer and the copy of the Tao Winner had given him. He valued those, and his sword. They could have the rest, for all he cared.  
  
Mission mode served him well, keeping him numb and proud long enough to get through the hour-long ride to the launch port, and aboard the Preventer Shuttle. He had a cabin to himself for the trip and no one seemed interested in controlling his movements or Sally's now that they were safely off Earth. He pulled off his tie and belt, kicked off the ugly, serviceable black dress shoes he'd gone dancing in for the first time in his life, and sat down on the narrow bunk. There was no port in the cabin, or any vid monitors. He unzipped his bag and pulled out the Tao. It was undamaged. He wondered if the people who'd searched his room at the estate had noticed the books there, or the notes in them? That thought, and the fact that he was totally powerless to control the situation, or even know if Zechs would find them if they were there, began to chip away at his thin veneer of control. He turned the pages of the Tao, seeking some solace, but his hands were shaking.  
  
Sally slipped in with two mugs of tea and settled on the bunk beside him. He tried to drink, but his stomach was knotted too tight to swallow much.   
  
"How are you doing?" Sally asked, noting how unsteady his hand was, holding the cup. She took it from him and set it aside. "Talk to me, Wufei."  
  
"I fucked up. I've wrecked both our careers. I'm very sorry."  
  
"That's not what I'm asking for and you know it. Do you love him?"  
  
"I don't know. That's pathetic, I know, but it's the truth. I certainly feel *something* for the man, strong enough to make me throw away all good judgment, but whether or not it's love? I can't say. As you so recently pointed out, I'm not very good at recognizing that particular emotion in myself or others."  
  
Sally smiled and shook her head. "You say that, but I think you just might. I've thought so for a few weeks now."  
  
"Indeed." He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. What was there to say? His gaze fell on the book lying open on the bed beside him. "When a mission goes bad but you can still walk away from it, there's always the chance to fight again. That's what Winner used to tell us, when things went sour."  
  
"He was right."  
  
"But what about Zechs? Does he get to walk away, or are we leaving him trapped in the wreckage?" His voice was shaking now, too, not just his damn hands. Mission mode was leaving him, taking the adrenaline with it, leaving him with the sick, cold let down. "Sally, I told him I'd be there when he got back!" Tears again. He should just put on a dress and be done with it!  
  
Sally put an arm around him and he let her pull his head down on her shoulder. He let himself put his arms around her and he let himself cry. "I screwed up badly, and I'm taking you all down with me! And for what? Because Relena thinks I'm gay? That I'm going to-to-" He couldn't go on for some moments, wracked by silent, choked back sobs. Sally held him and stroked his hair. Zechs had done the same; how could the same action from two people feel so completely and utterly different? Sally's touch was soothing, nothing more. It had never been much more than that even during sex, he realized now, not compared to what Zechs lightest touch did to him. "Oh fuck, Sally, I think I'm going over the edge! How can I love him? I'm not gay. I've never-"  
  
Sally let him cry it out, then sat him up and wiped his face, stroking his hair back where a few strands had stuck to his cheek. Again he felt the immeasurable difference between her touch and the other, the one he still craved, even now in the middle of this unbelievable mess.   
  
"There's something I have to tell you, Wufei. I realize now maybe I should have told you sooner. Who knows? It might have helped you. But I don't think you were ready to hear it until now."  
  
Wufei wiped his nose on the corner of the bunk sheet. "Tell me what?"  
  
"Well, it's sort of a long story. I don't know if they'll let me stay in her with you for long, so just let me get it out, OK?"  
  
"You know I've been fascinated with you gundam pilots ever since I first met Heero. I gathered what data I could from you all over the years, during the war and since, with your knowledge. But I wasn't the only one doing it, and you weren't the only suit pilots studied. The Academy had its own studies, and included people like Zechs and Noin, among others, anyone who stood out. The scientists who designed and implemented Project Meteor did, as well, for the early days of the program. Some of their notes were recovered during and after Libra, and some of those files have come into my hands through channels I'm not going to talk about. Here's what I know. Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner were the first gundam pilots selected. They had to pass a huge battery of tests-aptitude, personality, intelligence, physical stress, the works. The files on them are massive, and they were only children at the time. It was thought at firs that each of the five scientists, Dr. J and the rest, worked independently, but of course that was only a myth, for security reasons. Heero was considered the perfect prototype, but he was so unusual that he could not be readily replicated. Quatre, when he passed, came as a surprise, since they seem like such polar opposites. The test results were compared and very few correlations came up, beyond their intelligence, exceptional reflexes, and high level of innate creativity. However, there was one other thing. Both showed strong signs of latent homosexuality. This was considered an aberration, a coincidence, until the third pilot to qualify showed the same results."  
  
"Maxwell?"  
  
"No, Wufei, it was you. You were the third point that confirmed the trend. Two other L-5 candidates washed out before they got to you, and both of them lacked that characteristic. The researchers on the project were already calling it the 'G factor' and the joke was it stood for both 'gundam' and 'gay.'"  
  
"Sally, how can that be? I loved Meirin. You and I, we had sex. I liked it! And I did care for you, as much as--"  
  
"I know, as much as you were able to. But you didn't love me, or the sex, and you weren't passionate. Those pictures Une had of you two? They were a revelation, Wufei. Did you really look at them? That was passion."  
  
"And you knew all this, even when we were involved? What were you doing, testing me? Checking out the theories for your research?" he demanded angrily.  
  
"Keep your voice down!" she hissed. "Of course I wasn't! I'd gotten to know you during the war and I cared for you. As I said, with you first three the homosexuality presented as latent. That's not uncommon in any population. And all three of you turned out to be late bloomers, sexually. Quatre probably would have stayed a virgin for the entire war, maybe longer, if not for Trowa."  
  
"Winner? You haven't been following the news these past few years, have you?"  
  
"I know all about that, but that was after Trowa accelerated the process, and a lot of what you saw as promiscuity after the war, during his wildest days, was a predictable PTS behavior. He, Trowa, and Duo have all seem to have suffered that particular reaction to one degree or another. Not everyone does. You and Heero didn't, though Heero may have been showing the other side of the same coin, which also occurs. But with Heero, it's hard to say for sure. He's never been in the normal range on much, when it comes to human interaction. Still, it appears he got over it on his own, with Duo."  
  
"As for you and me, you may well be bisexual, or you were simply acculturated to be straight. Both you and Quatre were raised in cultures that frowned on, even condemned, same sex love. You and Heero were both taught to suppress your own desires to achieve a higher purpose. He was dangerously emotionally repressed when I first met him. It accounts for a lot of the problems he's had since. Duo Maxwell is the best thing that could have happened to him.   
  
"You, on the other hand, were sexually repressed and still are. It's tearing you up now because you've finally met someone you really respond to on that level and you aren't mentally prepared for it. You'd better get a grip on it fast, Wufei, or you are in for some hard times. But I don't have to tell you that, do I? That's what happened, these past few days. It all came crashing through and you overloaded."  
  
"Sexually repressed?" Wufei snorted, caught on that assessment.  
  
"I hate to be the one to break it to you, my friend, but speaking as someone who's slept with you, oh yes! I hope you get over that. You'll have to if you want Zechs. I've seen his file, too. He has no such qualms. He, Duo Maxwell, and Trowa Barton fall squarely into the 'overt' category. Duo and Trowa were both last minute acquisitions to the project, but during the vetting process it came out that both had been sexually active on some level with men already and were comfortable with their orientation. There were other candidates in both cases, but they were singled out, in part because of that."  
  
"But Zechs couldn't have been part of that vetting process, not back then."  
  
"He wasn't, but OZ had come to similar conclusions already. Remember the Academy sex scandal, right before the war? That was no accident. Zechs was having affairs with classmates from the time he was fourteen, and slept his way through half the men at the Academy, both as a student and an instructor. Oddly enough, his test scores show him to be a romantic at heart. Hard to imagine, with that track record, but that's what his file says."  
  
"I believe it," Wufei murmured, remembering what Zechs had said to him last night. "But what about Treize?"  
  
"He tested borderline, and seems to have made the same sort of choices you have. And that's not to say there weren't excellent pilots who didn't have that factor. But many did, and all of you gundam boys. As the project progressed, it was even assumed that it might be a bonding factor."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"I saw some projections. It was estimated, based on your scores and personality types, that certain boys might pair bond, as close friends or lovers."   
  
"Did they say who?"  
  
Sally smiled. "Yes, and that's where their theories really broke down. Quatre wasn't expected to survive more than a few months, even with the Maguanaq support troops. You and Heero were considered compatible, as were Trowa and Duo. If Quatre didn't die, he was expected to be drawn to Trowa or Heero. So they got most of the pairings wrong, but they probably weren't wrong about the rest of it. Trowa kept Quatre alive in a variety of ways, and it would appear that Heero's unspoken attraction to Duo improved his chances of survival, as well, and vice versa."  
  
"And me?" Wufei smiled bitterly.  
  
"You were repressed, stubborn, arrogant, insecure, and even less of a team player than Heero. If you'd been more in tune with that aspect of yourself, you might have found one of them interested. My money would be on Heero, but you'd probably have had to fight Duo for him. However, if I may say so, I don't think your soul mate was in that group at all. To my knowledge, I'm the only researcher so far who's thought to cross match you five outside the gundam sample. Your admiration for Treize was no accident, Wufei, and neither is the way you've been drawn to Zechs. Of those two, I think you have the better man, too."  
  
"I don't 'have' him at all!" Wufei snapped, still not quite ready to buy into all this. "And if I did, then I've done a damn fine job of making sure I'll never see him again. Relena will make certain of that."  
  
"I'm not so sure about that."  
  
"And why might that be?"  
  
"Because Relena Peacecraft had never understood pilots at all, not Heero, not her brother or Duo, and not you." Putting her lips to his ear, she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, "But I do, better than most, and based on that, I'm guessing you've already taken action. I'm not going to say more than that and you're not going to even acknowledge the question, if you know what's good for you. I'm just saying, don't give up hope. And don't forget; Zechs is a pilot, too."


	46. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The masks Duo had made--with some help from Heero-- were perfect, both as art pieces and as compliments to the costumes Quatre had created. Each one had taken on a vivid life of its own between sketch and completion. The ones for "Meld", made to look like two halves of the same face, with the other half painted black, were amazing. When he and Trowa put them on, they really did look like they were exactly that; a divided soul seeking it's other half. Looking at their reflections in the workroom mirror, Quatre got goose bumps.   
  
It has been a calculated risk to give him these important pieces. Duo was still new at this and Trowa was incredibly particular and controlling about every aspect of this risky new form or circus he was creating. But it had been Trowa's idea to ask him. Duo's earliest efforts as an apprentice mask maker had been impressive, and the designs he'd come up with were imaginative and often on the dark side.   
  
"Dark" defined Trowa's vision for Circus della Notte. Quatre had a free hand in costume design and the musical scores, just as Duo did with the masks, but Trowa had final say on everything, right down to the color of the rope wranglers' shoes. Catherine's daytime performances were for the families, with lots of flash and glitter and innocent fun. Their show would be dark, erotic, surreal, a true circus of the night.  
  
Having to plan their own show while still active performers in Catherine's company would have been stressful at the best of times. With all the emotional strain over Heero, on top of Trowa's lingering PTS quirks and nightmares, all of which he'd stubbornly refused to acknowledge or address, Quatre had been scared to let him near the high trapeze.   
  
This small respite on the Cape, and the success of Heero's unusual "therapy" had caused a minor miracle. Trowa was still conflicted, but for now he was happier and functional, and his mind was clear. A few days free from the chaos of the show preparations, the best sex they'd had in months, and lots of warm fuzzy contact with their friends had made a new man of his husband and Quatre, too. Only after things improved did he fully appreciate the kind of strain he'd been under. It healed a few gaping wounds in Quatre's heart to see Trowa stop hating himself.  
  
It helped that Heero was looking so healthy, after the shock of seeing him in Madrid. And Duo? He was radiant. He was happy and being happy only made him more handsome. His hair was positively magnificent, a fact that Duo blushingly attributed to Heero. He was more of a jokester and smart mouth than he'd been in years, too. When he got too obstreperous Heero was not above calling his attention to it with a smack on the ass, but from the look Duo have him when he did it, it was all some big game between them. Quatre and Trowa had their own version of it, and knew it was just lovers' play; good wholesome G-Boy kink.  
  
+  
  
It took the better part of four days to put the final touches on the masks and get them properly packed, then shut the house down before the cold New England winter set in for real. Yesterday they'd woken find to a light dusting of snow on the beach and heavy gray skies.  
  
They kept the fireplaces stoked in the rooms they used, shut the doors on those they didn't, and gradually moved everything they would be taking with them downstairs. He and Trowa used one of the empty bedrooms there to stay in practice for "Meld" and keep limbered up in general. Trowa insisted on keeping the others away, and ignored all Duo's grumbling complaints. He wanted everything about the new show to be a surprise and a wonder, even for their own mask maker.  
  
Each night the four of them started the night together in the big master bedroom, with Trowa and Quatre withdrawing to the room across the hall for sex. The third night they left both bedroom doors wide open and no one complained. By unspoken agreement, daytime sex was private, with the understanding that there would be no eavesdropping.   
  
So far it was a workable system. In between, there was lots of room for friendly physical contact, something all four of them seemed to crave. Quatre had the impression that the other three were still making up for a lot of years of deprivation in that department. The chilly evenings made bundling up together under shared blankets on the couch to watch TV a logical step. It was nothing new for Duo and the Winner-Bartons. Heero seemed very pleased to find himself included into the longstanding arrangement. It took some strategic planning, figuring out where to put all those hips, legs, and elbows, but they managed various comfortable configurations. Still the smallest, Quatre fit on Heero's lap like a kid, and dozed off there one night, head pillowed in his shoulder, with Heero absently stroking his arm and Duo leaning warm against his back, feet in Trowa's lap.   
  
So far there were no signs of jealousy, but everyone remained alert to each other's signals. Quatre suspected that Trowa would have accepted more sexual contact, given what he'd told them about life among the mercenaries he'd grown up with, but no one else was ready for that step.   
  
+  
  
Their final day was hectic. With just ten days left before opening night, Trowa and Quatre were flying down to New Orleans. Heero and Duo would follow in the SUV, arriving a day or two later with the fragile masks.   
  
That afternoon Quatre sent Duo and Trowa up to New Provincetown for a few last minute supplies, then headed into the studio with a cup of tea to see what last details remained. Heero was upstairs somewhere, checking storm windows.  
  
Duo had packed away his tools and supplies in their crates and the masks were buried in individual boxes of shredded foam and tissue paper. Quatre looked into the last unsealed box, where the seashell mask Duo had made for Heero lay, awaiting a final wrap. It was heavy and Duo was worried about it cracking in transit. Quatre lifted it out, shaking the moon shell necklaces free. It was beautiful, but rather eerie, too. It obviously had some special significance for the two of them, and Heero clearly treasured it. He laid it back in its wrappings and turned for a final look around the room.  
  
A forgotten sketchbook had been shoved under the studio couch. It fell open as he picked it up and he saw with surprise that it was filled with black and white pencil sketches, rather than Duo's bright colored creations. A second glance told him that this wasn't Duo's work at all.  
  
The first page was blank. The second was a lovingly rendered sketch of Duo asleep on this very couch, sprawled face down, hair loose and cascading down over his shoulder to the floor, one fist curled under his chin like a sleeping child. Well, not really a child, Quatre noted, blushing. Despite the afghan draped across his hips, he was clearly naked and judging by his blissful expression, had just made love. At the bottom, in Heero's small, slanting print, was the title "#2: D. life study. CC house. 09/14/198."   
  
The facing page, titled "#3: D. life study 2. CC house. 09/14/198" must have been done that same day. It was the same setting, but now Duo was asleep on his back, arms draped over the armrest above his head, one foot fallen to the floor, and no blanket. Quatre's blush deepened. Heero's attention to detail was amazing.   
  
A loose page, apparently torn from a different sketchpad, showed Duo fully clothed, wearing a familiar stained canvass apron and sitting on a high stool at a table--that table over there, Quatre realized-- concentrating on something in front of him. He had a set of calipers in one hand and a pencil between his teeth. Quatre had seen him like this dozens of times in their L-4 workshop and smiled, imagining how Duo was always muttering and humming to himself, drumming the fingers of his free hand on the table. This one was "#1: D. at work. CC house. 09/14/198."  
  
Quatre had been formally trained in drawing, and had a good eye. He recognized talent when he saw it. He turned the page, curious to see more. There were dozens and dozens of sketches, and a large proportion of them were portraits of Duo. Many were explicit: there were a number showing him tied naked to the bed upstairs in various ways, his arousal clear in his eyes and the arch of his body, not to mention the rather impressive erection; another showed Duo cavorting in the kitchen in nothing but an oven mitt and a frilly apron. Quatre chuckled, recognizing it. There were more studies of him asleep, and many of him dressed and at work or outside on the beach. The most unusual showed him at the worktable again, but here he was depicted as a beautifully detailed and well-armed merman cleaning a gun. This one was titled "My kind of mermaid!" and dated the day he and Trowa had arrived.  
  
"Mermaid!" Quatre muttered, grinning. Trowa claimed he'd heard Heero call Duo that during sex the other night, but Quatre hadn't believed him. This didn't seem like Heero Yuy at all. Duo had certainly brought out some interesting facets in the guy.  
  
Heero had tried a few self-portraits and one full-length nude study, but if his expression was anything to go by, he hadn't been pleased with the results. Or maybe he was just concentrating. Either way, the eyes that looked out from those pictures held a look that bordered on "Yuy Death Glare." The body, though--Quatre's eyes widened appreciatively. Assuming this was done with the same accuracy as the others, well, he was pretty impressive! He and Duo had both been working out.  
  
He'd also drawn all five Gundam pilots from memory, both as the young men they were now, and attempts to capture how they'd looked a few years ago. The picture of him as 04 made him look embarrassingly young and small, with a pretty baby face. Quatre shook his head sadly; they really had been children then--Trowa looked shy and closed off, Duo cocky but guarded, Wufei like he was sucking on a lemon.   
  
Wu had probably changed the least of any of them. It occurred to Quatre that he still hadn't heard back from 05 about his invitation, despite several emails. Whatever this new secret detail was, it must be keeping him busy. Or maybe he was still upset over Heero and Duo's relationship? Quatre knew it had hit him harder than the others realized, but he'd kept that to himself.  
  
He looked back at the drawings. Their younger selves looked like children, all right, but they all had the eyes of killers, even him. That was a bit disturbing. Had they really looked like that, or is that how Heero had seen them?  
  
There were portraits of some of their former enemies, as well: there were several of Zechs, some in uniform and mask, others as he'd been later, maskless and bitter, a white band tied around the arm of his flight jacket. Lucretzia Noin was there too, smiling, and Treize Kushreneda at ease in an open necked shirt, wine glass in his hand. There were several others of a grim looking, thin-faced man Quatre didn't recognize. These were titled "O.L."   
  
Scattered throughout these others were random studies of hands and feet, furniture, household objects, seashells, beach plants, and a few disturbingly detailed sketches of a dead seal on the beach, its bloated body picked at by crabs. Another showed the skeleton of a seagull, surrounded by a few tattered feathers.   
  
Heero had tried his hand at landscapes, but they lacked the sense of passion and immediacy of his portraits. All of them except one, Quatre amended, coming upon a lovely rendering of the house, with what appeared to be Duo and Heero waving from the widow's walk. This one was dated a few weeks back and titled, "For Quatre, with thanks. Feels like home."   
  
This was followed by a portrait of Quatre and Trowa wrapped around each other, both flipping the artist off and grinning. They were dressed in some of their more outlandish and revealing S&M club gear. They still had those clothes, but hadn't worn them in a year or more. Heero must have seen a picture of them somewhere and done it from memory. This one was titled "For Quatre and Trowa: 'Gundam's Kinkiest Toy Boys!' Tsk tsk." So the Perfect Soldier had a damn near perfect memory, too, at least for some things! Quatre hadn't been stoned enough to wear assless biker chaps with nothing but a G-string underneath since that night. Well, not in public, anyway.  
  
It struck him then that there were no drawings of Gundams, mobile suits, weapons, or anything else to do with space or war. Just people Heero knew and his current surroundings.   
  
The last drawing was dated today, and showed Quatre, Duo and Trowa asleep in the bed upstairs. A bit of space between Duo and Trowa showed where Heero had been. Quatre could even make out a dent in the pillow where his head had rested. The title of this one was simply "Peaceful."  
  
Quatre was about to set the book aside when it slipped and fell open to the back pages. There were more drawings there.   
  
It would have been easy to believe that a different person had drawn these. They were nightmares on paper, dark contorted glimpses of ominous city streets, filthy alleyways, and slums. The pencil work here was harsh and rushed. The lines were much heavier and in places the pencil point had torn the paper. In others things had been erased so forcefully the page was almost worn through. One drawing was nothing but angry eyes and reaching hands, so numerous and so thick on the page that Quatre got a flash of panic, as if he was being attacked. He turned the page hastily. The next picture, by contrast, was the shadowed interior of a Buddhist temple; he recognized an altar, bowls of incense, a statue. A small window in the left foreground was filled with angry eyes and blackness. The next drawing was the statue alone, in greater detail. It was an Asian woman with a sad, gentle face. She wore old-fashioned robes and held a long-necked bottle in one hand, and a flower in the other.   
  
Quatre knew what these must represent, even before he noticed the upraised hand in the foreground of the temple picture, holding a pile of pills and a razor blade. Heero had said something about going into a temple to keep warm, right before he tried to kill himself. Quatre looked at that window full of eyes again and opened himself just a little. Emotions roiled off the page: despair, intense loneliness, failure, confusion, shame. But the fear he felt was his own.  
  
He started badly as a hand closed over his shoulder, then turned and threw his arms around Heero, clinging to him with his eyes squeezed shut, trying to escape those images and the feelings that came with them. Strong arms tightened around him. A hand stroked his hair. "It's all right, Quatre. It's in the past. I'm all right now."  
  
Quatre got a hold of himself and let go. It was so stupid! He should be the one comforting Heero, but Heero was calm. "That's all I can remember about that night, so far. It was hard, at first, but drawing it out helped. Duo says I should burn this one, but I'm not ready to quite yet."  
  
Quatre sighed as guilt rushed in. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have looked!"  
  
Heero was still staring down at the book. "I've been having dreams lately. Nightmares. Don't worry; I'm still seeing Dr. Batoosingh online. He says if I draw them, it may help me remember things from that fugue state, if I choose to."  
  
"Do you really want to?" Quatre whispered.   
  
Heero shrugged, then paged back through the book to the lighter drawings. He carefully pulled out the drawing of the house, and the one of Quatre and Trowa. "I did these for you, to thank you for letting us stay here. It's helped a lot. We really love it here."  
  
"Thank you, Heero. These really are very good. I never knew you were an artist."  
  
"Neither did I. Or maybe I forgot, I don't know. Creativity was one of the required traits when they recruited us, right? You, Duo and I all seem to be able to draw quite well, and I think he could be a sculptor if he tried. I don't know about the others."  
  
"Trowa creates with his imagination and his body. You'd have to ask Wufei about his talents. He was more a scholar of the arts, as I recall." He paused, still feeling guilty. "Look, I'm sorry I snooped--the ones of Duo, you know? The nudes?"  
  
But Heero just smiled. "Those are my favorites. I love how he looks, like that. But he might be embarrassed, I guess. I probably shouldn't leave this lying around."  
  
"Yeah. Too bad they're so personal. You've got enough here already for a gallery showing."  
  
"I don't think he'd like strangers looking at him. He wouldn't even take a modeling job and that would have been with clothes on."  
  
"Oh, he told you about Mikos, did he?" Quatre shook his head. "I still don't get that. They were begging him to do it. He'd be so good at it, and it's easy money."  
  
"I thought so, too, but he said he wouldn't enjoy it."  
  
Quatre paged quickly past several nudes to the mermaid picture. "I love this one. What's the story there?"  
  
To his surprise Heero blushed and closed the sketchbook. "That's uh--well, that one's personal."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Heero hugged him again. "It's all right, 04. Let's finish up here."  
  
They didn't talk as they sealed and stacked a few last boxes and checked the closet for stragglers. After awhile, however, Quatre felt Heero watching him.   
  
"Quatre, I need to ask you a favor."  
  
"Sure, what is it?"  
  
"I'd like to kiss you. On the mouth." It wasn't a passionate declaration. He could have been asking Quatre to pass him the tape. But that was Heero Yuy for you. "According to what Duo has told me, that's acceptable 'messing around between friends'."  
  
"Uh--sure, I guess. Go ahead," Quatre said, expecting a quick peck.  
  
Instead, Heero walked over with a very intent look in those dark blue eyes, took Quatre in his arms, and proceeded to kiss his lights out, tongue and all.  
  
It probably didn't last as long as it seemed to, but by the time Heero let go, Quatre's heart was racing, his knees were wobbly, and things were happening below the belt.   
  
"Thank you, 04. That was very informative."  
  
"Informative?" Was that Heero-speak for "you rocked my world"? But Heero appeared unruffled. "What--that is, why did you suddenly need to do that?"  
  
"Research. I've only ever kissed Duo like that. I wanted to see if it feels different with other people."  
  
"And?"  
  
"It does," Heero replied. "But it was very nice with you, too. I'm going to go make some more tea. Would you like some?"  
  
"No thanks. I'll just, uh--" Go take a cold shower, he thought. "I'll finish up here. Oh, and Heero?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I know you're still new at all this. With messing around? But you probably shouldn't use tongues, OK? Duo wouldn't like it."  
  
"Ah. Thank you. I'll make a note of that."  
  
Quatre watched him go and shook his head. Heero talked openly of sex, didn't blink over nude pictures of himself or Duo, kissed casually like he was proposing marriage, but blushed over the drawing of Duo as a mermaid with a gun? If Heero Yuy was his lover, instead of Duo's, he'd probably have to keep the empathy channel open 24/7 to figure the guy out. He licked his lips, thinking of that kiss, then grinned. Better than Trowa? No, but close. Hot damn, no wonder Duo looked so happy all the time!


	47. Crescent City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

It was surprisingly hard to leave the house in the dunes. Heero really had let himself think of it as home. All the same, he was looking forward to New Orleans and it was nice to have a few days alone with Duo in the car. They made good time and rolled into New Orleans right on schedule, wending their way through the outer modern sprawl to the section of the city Trowa called the French quarter, even though Heero's research showed that the primary influence on the area had been a mix of Spanish, white, black and native American races called Creole.   
  
Evening was falling and it was raining. Duo fell in love at first sight with the narrow streets lined with centuries old two- and three-story buildings decked out with bright colors, balconies, and fancy ironwork. Heero's initial impression was that it looked dangerous.   
  
It was damp and chilly, and shreds of fog from the nearby river hung like ghosts in the muted glow of the streetlamps. Too many side streets, his mission voice warned. Too many flat roofs and all those balconies, perfect for surveillance or snipers. And even at this hour, in this weather, too many people, though his rational mind identified them as tourists, locals, drunks, prostitutes. But old reflexes were still there, just under the surface. He was glad they were both armed.  
  
The place Trowa had rented was a traditional Creole-style house on St. Peter Street, just north of the cathedral and Jackson Square. It was a two-story brick house, painted blue with black trim and shutters, and was very plain from the street. There was a simple door and a few narrow windows. In the distance, they could hear music Heero guessed must be jazz of some sort, spilling from one of the clubs on Bourbon Street around the corner. They parked on the street and entered through a narrow wrought iron gate at the side. This let into the small courtyard the house was centered around. Windows and doors faced inward here, with their shutters open and warm light spilling out. Several staircases led down from the balcony that circled the second floor. Good food smells hung on the damp air.   
  
Duo hitched his backpack up on his shoulder and let out an appreciative whistle. Heero knew he'd fallen in love with this place on sight, too. "Oh, Tro, you did good! It's like having our own secret garden."  
  
There was a fountain at the center and towering palm trees and other large lush tropical plants. There were several dark wrought iron chairs and tables near the fountain, and bamboo wind chimes tinkled in the shadows nearby.   
  
This was defensible architecture, Heero thought, relaxing a little. He'd already spotted a number of security sensors hidden among the foliage and along the roofline. Trowa and Quatre were experts at setting up safe houses. Perhaps New Orleans wouldn't' be so bad, after all.  
  
A door on the ground level opened and Tro and Kat came out to meet them, dressed like them, in jeans and sweaters.   
  
"Hey, what do you think?" Quatre exclaimed, arm around Trowa's waist.   
  
"We like!" Duo answered for both of them.  
  
"It looks very secure," Heero said, and saw Trowa smile at that.   
  
Trowa didn't say much as he gave them a tour of the house, but Heero read the pleasure in his eyes. Most of the rooms had been maintained in their original style. They all had incredibly high ceilings and were furnished with dark oil paintings of ancient scenes and disapproving ancestors, fancy antique furniture, and dark papers on the walls. Dusty crystal chandeliers hung in the main sitting room, dining room, and lit the winding staircases that connected the interior levels. The bedrooms had fancy wrought iron fixtures and frosted globes, made to look like old gaslights. The master bedroom had a huge wrought iron bedstead, with a smaller bedroom connected to it by a side door. Both let out onto the upper balcony overlooking the garden.   
  
They would live mostly on the second floor. The bedrooms, main bath, and several comfortable sitting rooms Trowa called "parlors" were all on the second floor. The kitchen and dining room were downstairs, but most of he other rooms there were empty. The largest had been cleared for a practice room and lined with large mirrors and matting on the floor. Another was set aside for a workshop, so that Quatre and Duo could make last minute alterations and repairs. A third was set up with free weights.  
  
"Wow, you've really made yourself at home here," Duo noted.  
  
"All Trowa's doing," Quatre told him.   
  
This clearly was Trowa's plan, his choice, his favorite city. Just from the little bit Heero has seen and researched so far, he realized that this was probably the sort of place Trowa belonged, not on some sterile, gray, atmospherically controlled colony. The house was like Trowa, shuttered and guarded on the outside, full of shadows, color and slightly skewed perspectives within.  
  
"Well?" Trowa asked at last, as they stood on the balcony looking down at the darkening garden. "What do you think?"  
  
"Fucking awesome place!" Duo exclaimed softly. "Heero and I read those Anne Rice books you gave us in the car on the way down. I can see vampires living here."  
  
"Wait until you see the cemeteries. They're beautiful, and dangerous at night, even without vampires."   
  
"No cemeteries tonight!" said Quatre. "If you guys aren't too wiped out from the drive, we thought we'd eat here, let you rest up a little, then do some clubbing." He leaned against Heero and gave him a coaxing little smile. "Will you, Heero? You've never been out with us before. Please?"  
  
Heero was momentarily confused. Then he realized that Quatre and Trowa had never seen him willingly participate in such social interactions. He glanced over at Duo and gave him a wink, but kept a frown on as he sighed, "Hn. If I must."  
  
A tall woman named Marie came in to do the cooking each day. She had mocha colored skin, a soft, laughing voice, and seemed to enjoy teasing all of them about how thin they were as she ladled out small bowls of something called gumbo. It didn't look like much, just a brown stew over rice. It didn't matter; food was just fuel, after all. He and Duo had lived mostly on canned food, rice and scrambled eggs at the beach house. One mouthful, laden with spices, shrimp and sausage, soon changed his mind. By the time they'd polished off the main course of smothered collard greens and Oysters Rockefeller, followed by thin slices of rich pecan pie, he'd had an epiphany similar to his first blowjob.  
  
Duo lay back in his chair and rubbed his stomach happily as Marie gathered the dessert plates. "OK. I guess we'll stay."  
  
They rested for a while in their room after supper, then showered and changed into the clothes they'd worn to Ma Rainey's. Duo kept his hair braided, but wore all his jewelry for Heero, and painted his eyes.   
  
Heero pulled him close and ran his hands down over his lover's backside, drinking in the sight of him, the way the ocean colored cropped tee complimented his eyes, and the feel of those hard muscles under the dark charcoal silk jeans. "They think I'm going to sit at a table all night, glowering and looking at my watch while you three dance."  
  
Duo gave him a look of mock surprise, and grabbed his ass. "You mean you're not?"  
  
+  
  
The four of them set off on foot at ten o'clock. Trowa and Quatre seemed at ease with this, and Heero had already ascertained that everyone was armed, ankle holsters all around. Their choices of wardrobe didn't allow for anything else. Trowa and Quatre were dressed for action under their matching black leather overcoats, but it wasn't battle.   
  
Trowa's hair was combed back from his forehead tonight and those green eyes burned with a dark, sensual intensity. The smile he gave Heero, taking in the sight of him in tight black jeans and shirt, was rather unnerving. In those skin-tight black leather pants, studded black belt and wristbands, boots, and barely-buttoned black silk shirt, Trowa could have been one of those stylish, deadly young vampires they'd read about in the car.   
  
Quatre had on the black, concho-trimmed Dolchi leather pants he'd gotten married in and an oversized white Oxford, perhaps Trowa's, open with the sleeves rolled, over a form-fitting black tank that left his stomach bare from the bottom of his ribcage to well below his navel, showing off the black sunburst there. He also wore a black leather dog collar around his neck and thick bondage cuffs on both wrists. The heavy silver rings on both showed signs of wear.   
  
Still thinking of vampires, Heero decided Quatre looked like either Trowa's deceptively angelic fellow hunter, or a very willing victim. Heero had thought the story was rather silly and overwrought when they were reading it. Now, walking these dark, cobblestone streets, sounded by alien sounds and smells, he began to see the attraction. He and Duo were both wearing their black leather jackets, too, and fit in with the mood.  
  
Duo slid in under Trowa's other arm and pulled Heero in beside him with an arm around his waist. "Damn, we look like sex on legs."  
  
"Come on, malos muchachos," Trowa laughed. "Let's go cause some fucking headlines!"  
  
Quatre tilted his head back and let out a howl. "Listen up, Crescent City! The Gundam Boys are in town! Owwwwooooooooo!"  
  
Duo echoed the howl and cackled with laughter. "Get yer cameras ready, you paparazzi cocksuckers! Here we come! Owwwwoooooooooo!"  
  
Heero caught Trowa's eye and saw him still grinning that dangerous grin.   
  
"I take it we're not keeping a low profile?"   
  
"Not tonight, 01!" Trowa purred in a voice that dripped pure sex. It was like someone had taken the shutters from his friend's eyes, from his soul. He gave Heero a knowing wink. "Besides, any publicity is good publicity for the proprietors of Circus della Notte."   
  
"Della naughty?" Duo quipped.   
  
"Very naughty," Quatre growled, biting Trowa's on the neck. "That's why we're launching it in New Orleans."  
  
Dup shivered happily. "Oh baby, I love it here already!"  
  
"We're surrounded by death, you know," Trowa said in that same sexy voice. "This city sits below sea level behind her levees. One perfect storm and it all could be swept away. Everyone knows it, and they stay. She's seen war, voodoo queens, slavery, plagues, floods, and death in every form, and embraces it all like a lover, laughs with it, rubs elbows with it every day. Instead of being frightened or depressed, they indulge in music and booze and sex and incredible food."  
  
"You see what he's really like, Heero?" Quatre said. "Get this. I finally talked him into choosing a birthday of his own, like you guys did, instead of that stupid March third date. Guess what he picked?"  
  
"Halloween!" Duo laughed, guessing correctly. "So, Heero's is in January, Wu man's in May, unless he's changed it, Kat and I are in September? Guess that makes you the baby, huh, Tro?"  
  
"Wrong, Maxwell. I had a dental resonance scan done at my last physical. Looks like I'm about to turn twenty."  
  
"No fair!"  
  
"It's true," Quatre laughed. "I've got myself mixed up with an older man and *I'm* the baby!"   
  
"My baby!" Trowa growled, scooping him up in his arms. "And I've finally got him in this wicked place, where little girls picnic in the graveyards and whores sing in the church square, and some of the hottest, wickedest gay clubs in America are all within a few blocks and they rock all night!"  
  
"And so do we!" Duo laughed, jumping on Heero's back for a ride and licking his ear. Leaning around to do the other ear, he whispered, "You OK with this, baby?"  
  
Heero hoisted him a little higher, gave him a kiss and whispered back, "I'm good, but thanks for asking."   
  
He was still feeling a bit leery and over exposed, and kept a sharp eye on the shadows around them as if he was on point, but under all that, yes, he was very fucking fine with this. Some part of him had wanted this for a long time. Maybe this was what it felt like for normal guys, to be not quite nineteen.  
  
Heero had already agreed that Duo could drink tonight, so long as he kept it within reason. At the Voodoo Lounge, a dance club decorated with skeletons in top hats and formal dress, ragged cloth dolls, and dried alligator heads, Trowa ordered them a round of bittersweet, milky green iced drinks called absinthe frappes. Absinthe was illegal in most of America, Quatre informed them, but not here, where it was made and served in a variety of forms. They downed them quickly and the world went smooth and golden around Heero. He didn't feel drunk so much as very relaxed and a bit horny. Duo wanted to order another, but Trowa shook his head. "One's plenty for now, mon petit papillon. Let's dance!"  
  
Heero had the pleasure of shocking Trowa and Quatre for once as he and Duo slipped out of their jackets and took the floor. Heero had left the silk shirt behind. His arms were toned again, and he'd picked up a light golden tan on the beach. They'd been out dancing a few more times since that first date, and Duo had given him some private lessons, too. "Just think of it as sex in public standing up with your clothes on," he'd told him, and Heero had gladly taken the advice to heart. Halfway into the first dance, he looked over to see 03 and 04 both staring at them as they danced. Quatre grinned and gave him a thumbs up of approval. Trowa said nothing, just licked his lips and reached for Quatre, grinding their hips together.   
  
Heero knew a challenge when he saw one. He did the same, letting his hands wander over Duo's bare midriff and hips. Duo and Quatre both guessed what was up and joined in the fun. By the middle of the second song, a slower one that allowed for even better bumping and grinding, they were getting stares from the crowd.  
  
Heero saw a few people pointing, and caught a few startled exclamations.  
  
"Hey, that looks like . . ."  
  
"Isn't that . . .?"  
  
"Jesus, are they . . .?"  
  
"Is that really Heero Yuy with them?"  
  
"Here we go, baby," Duo whispered, draping his arms around Heero's neck and undulating against him.   
  
Cameras began to flash. An open space on the floor opened around the two famous couples, just like it had that first time. But this time Heero wasn't going to bail out. Let them look. It was about time he made the papers for something like having fun.   
  
The others were obviously used to it. When the song ended the DJ called for a spotlight and introduced them. "Gentleman, and you ladies who are gentlemen, we've got something special in the house tonight. Those bad Gundam Boys are here, and they've got a new member, looks like!"   
  
Applause broke out and the other three laughed and waved. Heero kept his arm around Duo's waist, hoping everyone would go back to their own business and they'd get that damn spotlight out of his eyes. He flexed his left ankle, assuring himself the gun was still there.  
  
"Hey, we're just here to have some fun," Trowa announced, playing up the sex voice and stroking Quatre's hip as he talked. "For those of you who haven't heard, we're here in town for a *very* special event, the premier of Circus della Notte. I think you all would like it, too." His left hand traveled lower, cupping Quatre's ass, while his right performed a subtle slight of hand, producing a thick deck of silvery cards. He flexed it, and then riffled it as he waved his hand, showering the crowd with them. "Free passes, good any night. And it's only at night, because some things are better in the dark, yes?" His tone insinuated all sorts of sins. People scrambled for the passes. "Directions are on the back, mis pequenas palomas. Come see for yourselves, then tell your friends! Now how about some more music, maestro? Something slow and hot?"  
  
The DJ was only too happy to oblige and he and Quatre gave the crowd their money's worth, going into a slow, erotic sway that had half the men in the crowd drooling. Not one word had been said about whether they were actually in the show, or even what it was, but people were still scrambling to find fallen passes and everyone was abuzz.   
  
"He's good, isn't he?" Duo chuckled, pressing up against Heero and swaying to the beat.   
  
"Yes," Heero agreed, amazed. "I didn't think he ever talked this much, not in public anyway."  
  
"He can when he wants to. If there is really a devil, I'm betting he's a lot like our 03."  
  
They had another absinthe and danced some more as it took hold and loosened up more inhibitions. Heero found himself torn between watching Trowa make love to Quatre on the dance floor and observing the effect the sensuous way Duo was rolling his hips had on the shape of his navel. Both were mesmerizing. Duo's bellybutton won out.  
  
Duo laughed. "What are you staring at?"   
  
"I'm trying to decide if I'd like you with a tattoo like Quatre's."  
  
"Oh, so you get to decide that, do you?"  
  
Heero grinned and pulled him close again, squeezing his ass as he rolled against him. They were both hard now, but he didn't really care who saw. "What was that, 02?"  
  
"What?" Duo moaned and let his head fall back, exposing his throat and the Shiva's Eye necklace he always wore, just for Heero. "I dunno. Whatever you want, baby!" His long, shining braid swung free behind him, and Heero captured it and twisted the end round his wrist.  
  
They repeated the pattern at four more clubs that night, dancing, drinking, attracting attention and distributing the shiny free passes. The cameramen loved them and Trowa even granted a few brief, cryptic interviews. His years with the traveling circus had taught him showmanship; he knew how to pique interest, and to use sly innuendo to promise much while giving away little. Duo and Heero fell in with the game. When people asked them if they were in this show, they just shrugged mysteriously and went back to groping each other on the dance floor.   
  
Trowa allowed them all one more absinthe for the road, and the golden flow dragged them under.   
  
"We're flying with the green fairy now!" Quatre giggled, staggering along between Heero and Trowa.   
  
"Absinthe. Green fairy. The poet's drug of choice," Trowa explained, sliding his fingers up across Heero's back and tickling Duo on the other side.  
  
They headed home around three a.m., giving the crowds and the paparazzi the slip and taking a long, meandering route home. Absinthe was currently Heero's drug of choice, he decided; he was ready to fuck Duo up against the nearest wall. Trowa and Quatre beat them to it, dropping back into the shadows between two shops on the Rue Royal. Duo caught Heero by the hand, gave him an irresistible look, and they followed.   
  
It was too dark to make out the others as more than dark, moving shapes across the narrow alley a few feet away. Heero felt Duo's hands on him, pressing him back against the damp bricks, undoing his belt and jeans, yanking them down just past his hips. Then his fingers were being directed into a thick mass of hair at waist level and a hot mouth was closing over his erection. He heard the sounds of another blowjob being given and Quatre's muffled whimpers. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he could just make out Trowa kneeling there, fisting his own cock while he went down on Quatre. Quatre's hands were clasped behind his head-"Like a captured soldier" Heero's mind filled in.   
  
The image brought on a sudden, irrational stab of fear that made his erection flag a little. He hastily pushed that thought away. No prisoners, no force, just good clean dirty outdoor sex, that was all that was happening here.  
  
He let his head fall back against the wall, surrendering to what that mouth and those hands and those sounds were doing to him, and fighting not to make any noises that might attract unwanted attention. For a long moment there was only the sounds of sucking and heavy breathing, then Quatre let out a soft, shivering moan and Heero came fast and hard, in a hot rush that left him breathless and weak in the knees. He let Duo lick him clean while he got his breath back, then hitched his pants up, dragged his lover up against the wall, and returned the favor, this time to the accompaniment of Trowa whispering obscenities in what sounded like Greek and Duo's choked, half sobbing laughter.   
  
They staggered out of the alley together a few minutes later, laughing like crazy men, clinging to each other and dangerous with pheromones, like that day of the intervention. Trowa threw back his head and let out a very realistic wolf howl and the others joined in. Lights came on here and there and someone shouted angrily at them to shut the fuck up.  
  
"Veni, vidi, veni!" Trowa snarled back as they laughingly dragged him way and Heero guessed the misquote was intentional.   
  
Back at the house, the four of them double checked the security settings, then fell into the big bed together in a drunken tangle of bare arms and legs.  
  
Odd, Heero thought as he dozed off enveloped the warmth and smell of the others. He didn't know if he'd actually like New Orleans when he sobered up, but this room already felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Crescent City is a nickname for New Orleans. I'm stating the obvious here, right?
> 
> Absinthe is currently illegal in the US. In its 19th century heyday, imbibers called it 'the green fairy' because of its color and supposed effect. The active ingredient is supposed to be wormwood extract, which makes it quite bitter, but it was probably as much the alcohol content. It's legal in AC 198 Louisiana, though. A very civilized place.
> 
> "Veni, vidi, vici" Julius Caesar "I came, I saw, I conquered." Trowa's misquote is, of course intentional.


	48. Prayers to Broken Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei did his best not to feel anything, those first few days back on L-4. He spent hours at his katas, ordered food in, and spent much of the colony night cycle running miles through the dusty, stale-smelling streets. He avoided people and parks, just kept his eyes on the pavement ahead, passing from one pool of cold halogen streetlamp glow to another in a numbing blur. He didn't let himself look up and see that there were panels and girders overhead, rather than stars. He tried very hard not to compare the flat, dry processed atmosphere to a salt laden breeze. He forced himself not to flinch when a Porsche roadster rumbled past him one night, engine throbbing. He didn't think about cars like that on twisting roads, or the way the gearshift would tremble under the driver's hand.   
  
Don't think. Don't feel. Don't compare.  
  
He bound his hair back and wore his own clothes, avoiding his mirror. Sleep eluded him, and he soon was grateful; when he did doze off, too often his dreams betrayed him with images of Zechs, his voice, his touch, the backroom in Le Fleur, the beach under the moonlight, the taste of another's lips. He woke aching and stood under cold spray, fighting back tears of frustration and despair.   
  
To avoid that, he watched meaningless vid for hours, sprawled on the couch, scarcely registering what he saw. His books of philosophy and poetry stood unopened on the shelves, like accusations.  
  
Duty. Discipline. Honor.   
  
It was a measure of his fall from grace that even meditation failed him. He could not relax or clear his mind. Whenever he tried to create that inner emptiness, the truth of his situation rushed in to fill the vacuum.   
  
Dereliction of duty.   
  
How deluded he'd been, all these years, and how arrogant. He'd thought himself a true warrior, untouched by base instincts. He thought it was force of will that kept his lower desires in check. Instead, it has simply been lack of opportunity. He'd been tested, and failed, and in that failure he'd endangered Zechs, embroiled Sally, placed Une and the entire reputation of Preventers on the line, made himself a fool.  
  
And he'd kissed Zechs Merquise, and had the audacity to believe, for a few short hours, that he could get away with such a thing.  
  
_/Lips that would kiss . . ./_  
  
No, not kiss!  
  
_/. . . form prayers to broken stone./_  
  
+

As the hours and days passed, shame permeated his every thought. He had lost everything, and had no one but himself to blame. When he thought of those lapses-- touching himself, letting himself be touched-- shame and guilt overwhelmed him like physical pain, bowing him over and stealing his breath. More than once he'd had to force himself out in the middle of the night to run it off, but he never could quite outrun the truth.  
  
Desolation set in. He had no one to turn to. Who could he face? He could not even bear a greeting from his neighbors, who knew nothing of what he'd done. How could he face anyone else?  
  
Early the fourth morning he pulled himself together, put on his uniform and presented himself at Une's office. The secretary looked at him oddly, no doubt trying not to show his disdain. Everyone here must know. He'd seen people in the corridors turning to look at him as he'd passed. Thankfully, he was shown in quickly.  
  
Une rose to greet him, and then paused in the act of extending her hand. "My god, Wufei! What's happened to you?"  
  
He blinked. She knew everything. Why was she asking him that? Anxious to accomplish his mission and be gone, he stood to attention in front of her desk and held out the sealed envelope he'd brought her. "I am here to tender my resignation from Preventers."  
  
Une looked from the envelop to his face, then sat back and folded her arms. "Sit down, Wufei. Let's discuss this."  
  
Wufei placed the envelop on the desk and remained standing. "There is nothing to discuss, Commander. You outlined the situation perfectly in Sanque. I offer no defense of my actions. I appreciate your efforts on my unworthy behalf. I wish to resign my commission."  
  
"I can't let you do this, Wufei. Not like this."   
  
"What? Why?" He'd assumed she would be glad of it, just take the damn letter, and dismiss him.   
  
"Sit down, Chang. That's an order."  
  
Wufei sat stiffly on the edge of the chair in front of the desk. "I don't understand."  
  
"I'm sure you don't, Wufei." Why did she sound so kind? Why was she giving him that pitying look? It was like salt rubbed in an open wound, that look. "That's why I'm not going to allow you to make this decision right now. You're on leave-"  
  
"Suspension."  
  
"Very well; suspension. But it's only temporary, and at my discretion. I just want to let the dust settle a bit. I've been talking with Sally, getting more of her side of the story. I realize now that you found yourself in a situation that you were not prepared to handle."  
  
"It was a simple security assignment, Commander, one with no real or present danger associated with it. I allowed myself to become complaisant, lazy, distracted-"  
  
"Perhaps, but I was not referring to the job itself. Falling in love with Zechs--"  
  
"I did not fall in love with him!" Wufei barked, then realized he was on his feet again, leaning over the desk. He forced himself back into the chair and clutched his shaking hands together in his lap. "I am not in love with-with the man! That is as absurd as it is unseemly, even to contemplate-"  
  
Une was still giving him that pitying look. "Calm yourself, Wufei. I'm not accusing you of anything. From what Sally's told me, I think it's even possible that he intentionally seduced you. Or perhaps it was simply the situation that triggered your-"  
  
"It triggered nothing!" Wufei hissed, and now he could feel his nails biting into the palms of his hands. "Nothing was-was-" He felt his chest constricting dangerously and stopped, willing himself to shut up and calm down before he made a complete fool of himself. "I grew lax and committed an unpardonable breech of protocol, and a very stupid one. It was a newbie mistake and I am not a newbie. I think-That is, I've given this a great deal of thought and while it in no way excuses my error, I suspect I am also suffering from some post traumatic stress symptoms, as well. It's possible it has been coming on for some time, though I have been unwilling to accept it until now. Whatever the case, I am unfit for duty and respectfully request you accept my decision in this matter." Gods it was hard to breath in this stuffy little room! He was forcing the words out by the time he'd finished.  
  
Une said nothing for a moment, just leaned her elbows on the desk and studied her folded hands. "I'm sure you're right about the PTS. I looked in your file the other day. You're the only Gundam pilot who's had no form of formal therapy. Barton, Winner, Maxwell, even Yuy, they all sought help. Did you know that? It was suggested to you, when you first joined Preventers, but you did not pursue it. Why?"  
  
"I did not feel it was necessary. I was perfectly functional. Whatever Relena Peacecraft says about me now, she had no complaints about my performance on her security detail. I'm aware of no complaints from Sally against me, or anyone else I've worked with."  
  
"No, your jacket was spotless until this, your work exemplary, and. Almost too exemplary, really. I started reading between the lines, Wufei. You've had virtually no social life since the war. You haven't attended any social functions unless ordered, except for a few while you were--with Sally. And by her account, you went under protest. You have no real friends here, except for her. Perhaps the other pilots? I know you still see them occasionally, but it always seems to be in conjunction with some personal crisis among them, mostly with Maxwell. I also know first hand that Yuy's supposed death hit you awfully hard--"  
  
"I coped! I worked for months on that investigation."  
  
"Yes, you did. You wore out half a dozen other agents, drove them into the ground, and you didn't even notice, did you? But you had no emotional support."  
  
Wufei snorted. "What was I supposed to do? Break down? Fall apart? Run to some therapist and discuss my feelings?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
Wufei blinked at her, speechless.  
  
"That's what normal people do, Wufei. Strong people take action, like you did, but they fall apart now and then, too. That's what all the others did, in one form or another, and they had each other to lean on. I'm not suggesting that you didn't take a very logical line of action. You did an outstanding job."  
  
"No. I didn't find him."  
  
"No one could have, Wufei, not without a really lucky break and you didn't catch one. It happens. And don't forget, it was Heero Yuy you were trying to find. That cut your odds to nearly zero to begin with. And, according to Sally, Relena withheld information that might have helped you."  
  
"At Yuy's request."'  
  
"Yuy was mentally ill by the time he asked that of her. Perhaps she did not realize how ill, but frankly, I think she made a very poor decision there, letting her personal feelings get in the way of her judgment."  
  
"As I have, with all this," Wufei reminded her.  
  
Une let out an exasperated sigh. "You just don't let up, do you?"  
  
"I don't know what you mean."  
  
"And that's the damn problem with you, Wufei!" she snapped, losing patience. "This code of yours, whatever it is. It's good in its way. You're a damn fine agent, the best we've seen. But you're so rigid! I have some background in the codes of honor practiced among your caste on L-5. They were admirable, and meant to help establish a strong new population, founded on worthy virtues. But they weren't perfect, and you were only a child at the time, Wufei. Like any child, even a gifted one like yourself, you saw everything in black and white, good and bad, with no middle ground to allow for basic human nature. In time you'd have learned the way the world really works, the sorts of compromises and the compassion it takes to survive. But you weren't given that option, and then you had all the trauma of the role you were forced to play too young, as a soldier-"  
  
"I was not forced!" he ground out through gritted teeth. "It was an honor, one I competed for and won! I believed in the cause, and still do! If it wasn't for the Gundams and what we did, what we represented, flawed as the method might have been, do you think your precious Alliance would have been overthrown, or White Fang defeated? After everything you went through, do you still think we'd be better off in a world in which the Romefeller Foundation could appoint whatever benevolent dictator they deemed best? How many generations until mankind found itself enslaved to a despot and back in the same fucking mess we were headed for before?"  
  
He was on his feet again. He had raised his voice. Une's secretary was standing in the open doorway behind him, one hand on his sidearm. Wufei sat down hastily. "I'm sorry. Please, forgive my outburst."  
  
Une motioned the man back to his desk. "This is what I'm talking about, Wufei. This is a symptom. You should see yourself right now. You're white as a sheet, shaking, you look like you haven't eaten or slept in days. What's the last meal you had?"  
  
Wufei shook his head. "I eat." But she was right; he'd had no appetite. His stomach felt like a clenched fist. "Why won't you let me resign? I'll go away. I won't make trouble. You have my word."  
  
Une sighed, and then came around the desk to sit on the edge of it, looking down at him. He pushed his chair back a little, uncomfortable with the proximity. "The Chang Wufei I know does not tuck his tail and run away."  
  
He stared up at her. "You are the one who delivered the charges! You said yourself I screwed up!"  
  
"You did, but I also told you how hard I'd worked to control the damage in your favor. Why do you think I did that?"  
  
"I--I don't know."  
  
"Look, my hands are still tied to some extent, but I will say this much. This situation has seemed blown out of proportion from the start. Do you really think you're the first agent to get emotionally involved on a detail?"  
  
"I wasn't--"  
  
"Yes, Wufei, you were, and are. I wasn't there, but Sally was, and I trust not only her insight regarding you personally, but also her professionalism and training. She says that you definitely had strong feelings for the man, and that he responded to you better than anyone else. I don't know what to call that, but at the very least, I think you were a good friend to him. And the two of you share experiences that few others can begin to understand, just like the other Gundam pilots, or the Elites. There was a level of sympathy between you that no one else was able to achieve with him, not even his sister. And she thinks, and I agree, that just maybe it also awakened something in you--"  
  
"No!"  
  
"There's nothing shameful about two men--"  
  
"No!"  
  
Une shrugged. "Have it your way, but here's how things stand. Go near him again and Relena will bring formal charges against you faster than you can say 'executive privilege.' With her clout, at least some of them will stick, but you still have the Preventers legal protection and representation. We protect our own, too, Wufei, although that's probably difficult for you to comprehend right now. There's a great big khaki shield around you as we speak--and I'm not talking about surveillance. You're still one of our own, and respected. Step out from behind that shield with this?" She tapped his resignation. "We can't help you then and you'll go to jail. Face it, Wufei, no matter how bad things seem right now, you're young and have your whole life ahead of you. You aren't going to do yourself or him or anyone else any good behind bars, with that stain on your good name. If you resign, and if you make the slightest slip, Relena will nail your ass to the wall, and Sally's, too."   
  
She leaned forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Sit tight, and don't make any decisions for at least the next few weeks. Plenty of people have weathered worse. Right now I'm deeply concerned for you. Sally says she's been trying to get in touch with you ever since you both got back, but you don't answer your phone or email, and won't come to the door."  
  
"I must have been out." Wufei shook his head, trying to take this all in.   
  
Une stood and slipped a hand under his arm.   
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm taking you downstairs to the commissary for a hot meal, soldier. Then I'm writing out a formal order for you to see one of our staff councilors, and sending you home in a cab. You are going to rest, eat, sleep and try not to worry. That's an order."  
  
Wufei allowed himself to be led downstairs, and forced down enough food to satisfy her, all the while aware of the curious stares they were attracting around the dining room. He ate faster, anxious to escape. No doubt Une meant well, but she might just as well have hung him naked from the ceiling beams.   
  
Slumped in the cab on the way home afterwards, he felt more trapped than ever. He shouldn't have gone there, exposed himself like that. And that 'khaki shield' she spoke of? That only made it worse, knowing that someone somewhere was keeping tabs on him, no doubt reporting his descent into disgrace.   
  
_/When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,  
I all alone beweep my outcast state--/_  
  
Wufei squeezed his eyes closed, but resisted the irrational urge to cover his ears. That husky voice-the one he'd been fighting to not think about for days now--was inside his head. Inside him.   
  
_/Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,  
Haply I think on thee--/_  
  
"What's that?" The cabbie was looking at him in the rearview. "You OK, kid?"  
  
"Yes. Just-- not feeling well." Wufei forced his head up, hugged himself to stop the shaking.  
  
_/--a level of sympathy between the two of you that no one else was able to achieve--/_  
  
Shut up, Commander. Quite meddling, Sally! You're wrong!  
  
_/He walks in beauty--/_  
  
No. Don't think about that, not ever. Don't feel--  
  
Don't feel.

+  
  
Back in his apartment again, he looked around at the disorder: blankets thrown over the couch where he'd stared a the TV all night, evading sleep, dirty dishes scattered around, proof that he was not starving himself. Who cared if it was a mess? The blinds were drawn and there was no one else to see. What did it matter?  
  
He went into the bedroom and found a wrinkled undershirt and some sweats among the disordered bedclothes. He stripped of his uniform and changed into them, not caring that they were in need of washing.   
  
The uniform and ugly shoes went into the bottom of the closet. He wouldn't need them again, no matter what Une said. He was done with that part of his life. He knew that much now, if nothing else. He'd given it everything he had and come up wanting. He caught a glimpse of himself in the long mirror on the wall. He faced his reflection and curled his lip. "You really are a mess, aren't you, Chang?"   
  
So the fuck what? He flipped himself off, then pulled the tie from his braid, shaking his hair loose.   
  
That was a mistake. He watched himself reach for the carved white jade still hanging at his throat. He pulled his hand away like it had burned him. What had he been thinking, taking that? He glared at himself, seeing the moral degenerate who'd jerked off three, four times a day and cried like a gutless coward over it. He grabbed the pendant, meaning to yank it from his neck, but even in that, he failed. He let his hand fall again, useless.  
  
A few more days and Zechs would come home and see that he hadn't been able to keep his promise. Une's men would be thorough. They'd have found the books and destroyed his ridiculous attempt at subterfuge.   
  
/But what if they didn't?/   
  
He ran his hand back through his hair, then clenched both fists in it and bent over, smothering the sudden scream of frustration that welled up out of nowhere.   
  
Crouched there in that darkened room, eyes averted from his reflection, he couldn't stop that maddening little voice as it piped up again.   
  
/What if they didn't find the note? What if *he* finds it and understands? Does that make it any better? No, he'll only feel more trapped. Like I do! An animal with its leg in a trap and too scared to chew it off and escape./  
  
He fled to the living room and threw himself down on the couch. He turned on the set and flipped through the channels, desperate to numb the rising panic churning the cheap cafeteria meal in his belly.   
  
Typical mindless daytime fare: loud game shows, reruns, disgusting soap operas, news . . .  
  
His thumb paused on the remote as he caught sight of a familiar face. It was GNN, and there, framed over the shoulder of a perky blond entertainment correspondent were Yuy and Maxwell, looking like hookers again. A red headline was splashed across the bottom of the photo; "G-Boy Sighting!"   
  
"In a related report, those Gundam Bad Boys are together again and hotter than ever!" the reporter announced in the inanely chirpy manner of her kind. The still shot gave way to a clip showing the four friends dancing together in a group at some dark club, grinning and writhing against each other in tight black clothes and too much jewelry.   
  
"Looks like the Terrible Trio is now a Fearsome Foursome!" she went on. "Heero Yuy, who recently stunned the world twice by coming back from the dead, and then announcing his relationship with fellow former pilot and notorious bad boy, Duo Maxwell, with a very public kiss, was spotted last night out on the town in New Orleans."  
  
"Looks like they're all still very close, if you know what I mean," a male talking head cut in, grinning in a manner that made Wufei wish Une hadn't taken away his gun. "Check out those moves!"  
  
"You only have yourselves to blame!" Wufei growled as the other four ground their hips together to some unheard beat. At the moment it looked like everyone was trying to hump Barton, who was looking positively demonic. He raised both long arms over his head as Wufei watched, and scattered glittering silver cards into the surrounding crowd. This, in turn, caused havoc as underdressed, overly made up young men scrambled for them.  
  
"In a related story, Trowa Barton-Winner has been busy promoting his new project, Circus della Notte, which opens in Louis Armstrong Park tomorrow night. It's being touted as a new form of circus, not the sort you take the kids to. No one under eighteen will be allowed in. Trowa, his partner Quatre, and their buddies have been hitting choice Crescent City nightspots all week, giving away those silver free passes you just saw and talking up the show. Or not talking."   
  
She coyly let that hang as the scene cut to a close up of Barton. He was dressed in tight black leather and looking down with what looked like a predatory mix of lust and contempt at the much shorter man holding a mic in his face. The reporter was grinning nervously under that gaze and Wufei didn't blame him.  
  
"So, you can verify that you are among the performers in this circus of yours, Mr. Barton?  
  
"That's Barton-Winner," Barton corrected, pulling Winner into the shot and kissing him shamelessly. Winner laughed and ducked out of camera range again. "Yes, it's my show, my creation, my humble attempt to add a new dimension to an ancient art form. I will be performing."  
  
"And what about the rumors that the rest of the Gundam Boys are involved, as well?" The camera panned briefly to the other three standing nearby. Heero looked like his usual stoic self, except for the leather pants and low cut black muscle shirt and black leather choker. Winner and Maxwell were-well, they were being Winner and Maxwell, underdressed and overly made up. Winner waggled his fingers at the camera, smiling like a fallen angel. Maxwell draped an arm over Yuy's shoulders, stuck out his tongue, and crossed his heavily kohl-lined eyes, twirling his long braid with his free hand.  
  
"I can neither confirm nor deny such rumors," Barton purred, his voice deeper than Wufei had ever heard it, with a darker timbre that accentuated the slight accent he'd always had. "You'll have to come and see for yourself. Shows start at ten, and leave the kiddies home."  
  
Wufei turned the set off. Disgusting display.   
  
_/Wufei, it was you. You were the third point that confirmed the trend. . ./_  
  
Suddenly, the remote smashed into the wall above the television, hard enough to shatter the plastic casing. He looked down at his empty hand in amazement.   
  
_/and all that is best of dark and light,  
meet in his aspect, and his eyes . . ./_  
  
"No," he said softly, wearily. He rolled off the couch and unlocked the carved chest next to it. He lifted out the long, silk-covered box hidden inside, and opened it to run his fingers over the carved jade bowl and long enameled stem of the pipe. He reached for the other box, a plain wooden one which held the little dull gray pearls of oblivion. He rolled the opium around, feeling a certain degree of relief steal over him already. There were plenty left.  
_  
/Waking alone at the hour when we are trembling with tenderness . . ./_  
  
All right, then. All right. Just a little. Just for now.  
  
Kneeling in the wreckage of his living room and his life, he lit a candle and prepared the pipe, transforming the gray pearls to black resin to sweet smoke. He swallowed the smoke like a pro, having learned from old texts and writings how to best savor this bit of his heritage. It hit almost instantly, that sweet bright euphoria, lifting him to a higher realm, away from the ruins, the broken stone.   
  
_/Lips that would kiss . . ./_  
  
How did that line go? He couldn't remember the rest, but it didn't matter now. Nothing did, except how very good he felt.


	49. Yearnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Pain.  
  
Gundam colors, bright as exotic birds against dull gray corridors and the blackness of space. Wing. Heavyarms, Deathscythe. Sandrock. Shenlong. He knew them all too well.  
  
Wufei!  
  
Bone-deep concussion of direct hits from Yuy's beam cannon, and the shudders of Libra's death throes.   
  
A decision---a sacrifice. A futile atonement.  
  
Run away, Wufei . . .  
  
No. Not Wufei, Yuy. Get clear, boy, hurry!   
  
A blinding flash, fire and shearing metal.   
  
Pain!  
  
Left side crushed, burning . . . Flesh burning.  
  
"He's coming up again. Increase the titration . . ."  
  
+  
  
Falling. Burning. Dying.  
  
_/Get out, Yuy! Hurry!/_  
  
Pain again, but dull.   
  
"Damn it! Watch his breathing, Sorenson!"  
  
"Increasing oxygen . . ."  
  
Blinding light.  
  
_/Yuy, are you out?/_ Did he make it?  
  
Pain. Stronger. Too bright to see.  
  
"Damn it! Clamp that bleeder! Get a sponge in there."  
  
Pain!  
  
"Doctor, we've got eye movement."  
  
"He's coming out of it! Nurse, across his legs!"  
  
"Cauterize that, stat!"  
  
Burning flesh!  
  
_/Mayday! Pilot down . . ./_  
  
"God damn it, Sorenson!"  
  
"You're all right, Mr. Peacecraft."  
  
_/Not Peacecraft. Peacecraft/_ "is dead . . ."  
  
"Fuck, he's regaining . . ."  
  
" . . . tachycardia! Get him under! Now!"  
  
"Breath deeply, Milliardo. Just breath. That's right."  
  
Fresh air. No air in space. Mayday!  
  
Going down . . .  
  
+  
  
" . . . Peacecraft?"  
  
Falling!   
  
"Mr. Peacecraft?"  
  
Mistah Peacecraft-- he dead.  
  
"You're all right, Mr. Peacecraft." A woman's voice. Kind. A stranger.   
  
Restraints. Can't move.  
  
Captured?  
  
"Captured?"  
  
"No, you're in the hospital, remember? Can you open your eyes for me, Mr. Peacecraft?"  
  
"Not. Peacecraft." His tongue was thick, mouth so dry it hurt. Throat hurt. Everything hurt.  
  
"It's all right, Mr. Peacecraft. It's normal to be disoriented. Can you open your eyes? Come on now."  
  
His eyelids were dry and felt so heavy. When he did manage it bright light stabbed his eyes, making them water. He squeezed them shut again. Sleep . . . Why wouldn't she let him sleep?  
  
"You're in recovery, Mr. Peacecraft. You are under observation."  
  
Observation? "Captured?" He was cold.  
  
A chuckle, very close to his ear. He blinked again, squinting in the too-bright glare. A face swam into view over him. Asian. Black eyes. So lovely.  
  
"Wufei . . ."  
  
Another chuckle. "That's about the tenth time you've called me that, sir. I'm nurse Tanaka. Sachiko Tanaka."  
  
Zech's blinked, fought to focus. The world swam away again. Black eyes. "Beautiful eyes."  
  
"Why thank you! Why don't my patients ever tell me that when they're wide awake, eh?"  
  
"He has beautiful eyes." Let me sleep, damn you! So cold.  
  
"Ah. Well, I'm sure he does, and so do you. Let's get them open, now. We've got to sit you up."  
  
Zechs forced his eyelids open all the way. He was shaking uncontrollably.  
  
It was like being in Antarctica again. Cold. White walls. White blankets over him. White lights glaring down. Black eyes glaring at him. No, they'd been blue there . . . Japanese and blue . . .  
  
No Yuy here. But still damn cold. A pretty Japanese nurse in a white smock was placing another blanket over him. "Don't worry, it's just a reaction to the anesthesia. You gave poor Dr. Sorenson a real run for his money, sir."  
  
"Sorenson?" Why was that name familiar?  
  
"Your anesthesiologist. You flyboys are always the worst. How's the arm?"  
  
Zechs flexed his left shoulder and winced. "Hurts."  
  
She raised the head of his bed and injected something into the IV line inserted in the back of his restrained right hand.   
  
"Why'm I tied down?" Goddamn, it hurt to talk!  
  
"SOP, sir. You've been moving around a lot."  
  
"Water."  
  
"You're still NPO, but I can give you some ice chips to suck on." She turned away, came back with a spoonful of ice. He accepted it gratefully and closed his eyes again.  
  
"No, no, sir. Stay with me."  
  
Zechs fought himself awake again and accepted more ice.   
  
Nurse Tanaka came and went, strangers came to prod at him, then wheeled him into a private room where the light was soft and he didn't feel so cold.   
  
He got his first look at his reconstructed left arm there. Or rather, the beginnings of it. The stump now ended about six inches below the shoulder in a silvery metal ring capped with black plastic. From his research, he knew that under that cap was a flanged locking attachment ring and a complex grid of neural connectors. The whole thing was connected to the remains of his ulna bone. In a few days, the genetically enhanced skin and muscle grafts would knit to the metal and it would be permanent, and eventually ready to accept the replacement arm.  
  
That, of course, wasn't taking into account the painful calibration process that would follow. He couldn't say he was looking forward to that, testing each nerve ending, finding the right level of stimulation to make it work without triggering the pain response.   
  
He stared at the ceiling, calling up the memory of Wufei kissing him. He would fight through, as he'd promised himself. He would hang onto that. He wondered how he was doing. Had he decided it was all a terrible mistake? One didn't overcome a lifetime of denial with a few kisses, after all. Would he bolt? No, he'd given his word, and Chang Wufei was one of the few people left in the world whose word he believed in. For good or ill, he would be there, even if it were only to say good-bye.  
  
The pain was increasing as the anesthesia wore off. Nurse Tanaka could probably fix that for him, but he needed his head clear. Instead, he summoned the memory of Wufei: his cheek, his hair, his warmth through soft wool. His own body was too abused at the moment to feel arousal; no, it was simply comforting to think of him. Fascinating, complex boy.   
  
He must have dozed of again, because when the door opened, he half expected to see those dark eyes and soft black hair. Instead, it was Relena.  
  
"Milliardo?" She came to his bedside and took his hand. "How are you? You were in surgery so much longer than they said you would be!"  
  
"I'm fine," he rasped. "Did something go wrong?"  
  
"Not really. They had trouble with the implants and you kept trying to come out of the anesthesia. But you're fine now. Dr. Morgenstern says everything is just as it should be."  
  
"How soon can I return to the estate?"  
  
Morgenstern joined them, still in his OR greens. "Back with us at last, Mr. Peacecraft?"  
  
"And already asking to go home!" Relena smiled. "  
  
Morgenstern nodded. "Well, that's up to you, sir. Give the arm two days to heal, and then we'll begin the neural link tests. That should only take a few days. After that you can return home to convalesce for a week or so. Then, if all goes well, we attach your new arm.   
  
"You're certain it will be ready in time?"  
  
"I spoke with the lab yesterday. Everything is proceeding on schedule. Someone will come see you in the next few weeks to do skin tone matches, but other than that, they have everything they need. I think you'll be very pleased, Mr. Peacecraft."  
  
Zechs lay back and closed his eyes. Five days. It wasn't so long.  
  
+  
  
As the days passed, the temptation to pick up the phone grew stronger. The memory of how shaken Wufei had been that last night nagged at him. He'd been so surprised himself, and so caught up in worrying about the operation, he probably hadn't fully taken into account how overwhelming it all must have been for the boy. He really had believed he was straight, and having that mental rug pulled out from under you was a hard blow. He'd seen many young men go through that, and some did better with it than others.  
  
All the same, this was 05, a Gundam pilot. He was made of sterner stuff, right? But that didn't prevent him from casually asking Relena to let the household know of his progress. She assured him regular reports were being sent. He half expected Wufei or Sally to send some word back, but Wufei must have interpreted their agreement as a two-way street. No word came.  
  
Relena visited every day, and proved to be good surprisingly company. They'd had so little contact during the war. She hadn't even known he was alive until the end, and then he'd nearly left her for real. The situation with his repatriation had not helped matters, but now she seemed to be coming around.  
  
"I know how hard it's all been for you," she told him as they sat over a game of chess in the hospital solarium. "For months you weren't conscious, and then you weren't yourself. But you're so much better now! I knew that rest and quiet were what you needed most."  
  
"I do feel better," he admitted. The trips to Le Fleur had more to with his return to strength than she needed to know about, but that wasn't all. "Chang has been a tremendous help. As much as you disapproved of his methods, he more or less shamed me out of my funk. Not as good a chess player as you, though. I believe you have me in check."  
  
Relena toppled his king, and then set the pieces up for another game.   
  
"Did you know him before the peace?"  
  
Relena glanced up. "Know who?"  
  
"Chang."  
  
"No, not until Heero brought him on my security detail."  
  
"What did you think of him?"  
  
Relena frowned over the board. "He was very competent. Bit of a cold fish, though."  
  
Zechs chuckled. "Yes, that was my first impression, as well. More to him than I thought, though."  
  
"Mmmm, no doubt." Relena nudged a pawn forward. "I'm so glad you decided to have the arm replaced. And the news people have picked up on it, too. There's a great deal more interest and sympathy for you than I'd hoped, this soon after your reappearance."  
  
"Really? I suppose they're playing up the crippled warrior angle."  
  
"Yes. It has been three years since the Libra incident, and people seem more open to Yuy's account of how, at the end, you actually tried to help stop it."  
  
Zechs let out a dry laugh. "The times certainly have changed, if Yuy is the one springing to my defense."  
  
"Well, he hasn't said anything lately but over the past few days the news services have been dredging up all sorts of things about you, mostly positive. You're turning into a bit of a tragic hero."  
  
"All because I let them chop a few more inches off my arm?"  
  
"Oh, not entirely."  
  
"Meaning you've been helping things along, little sister?"  
  
Relena gave him a conspiratorial wink. "It never hurts to have a little influence, does it? And it's nothing but the truth! Family murdered, raised in secret, hiding your identity to avenge your country? No lies there, Milliardo. We can't change the fact that you went wrong for a while, but there's been so much done with studies of wartime stress, especially among mobile suit pilots. Actually, Heero and the others have done you a great service, with all their problems. They were out and out terrorists, and now they're everyone's darlings. I want that for you, too, Milliardo. I want you to reclaim your place as prince of Sanque and help me build this new future.  
  
Zechs sat back and looked at her with new regard. Her eyes were shining, her face resolute. She was looking at him, but he suspected she was envisioning the future, a bright future. "I want Sanque strong and prosperous, too, Relena. I want it to remain the shining beacon of peace you and our family have striven for it to be. I'm just not sure I can help you."  
  
"People will forget your past in time, Milliardo. They'll forgive."  
  
"Perhaps, but I won't ever get all the blood off my hands. You and the press and our government can put any gloss on me you like, but I'll know it's there. Can you understand that?"  
  
"Give it time. It will be all right. You'll see."  
  
He knew she meant well. He knew she believed what she was telling him, and given the fickleness of human nature, public opinion probably would absolve him, sooner or later. But he couldn't and he knew, looking into his sister's pure, loving, optimistic blue eyes that he could never make her or anyone like her understand what that meant. There were damn few who could.  
  
Wufei did.  
  
+  
  
The hospital had no proper library, but he spent the last few days of his stay on a borrowed laptop, trying to learn a bit about Chinese poetry. Much to his surprise, he discovered that quite a few of the old emperors in pre-colony times had taken male lovers, ten in the Han dynasty alone. And they'd not been shy about having it known either. There were an astonishing number of poems celebrated that sort of love. A seventh century poem by Emperor Jianwen to "his beloved boy" was listed among the classic poetry of that period.   
  
_Charming boy - You look so handsome!  
You surpass Dong Xian and Mizi Xia.   
  
Our feather curtains are filled with morning fragrance,  
Within pearl blinds I hear the distant drips of an evening water clock.  
Kingfisher quilts bear the hues of mandarin ducks,  
Our curtained bed is inlaid with ivory.   
  
You are as youthful as Zhou Xiaoshi,  
Your face is more beautiful than rosy red dawn clouds.  
Sleeves made of regal jade brocade,  
Tunic of delicate flowery cloth.   
  
When you touch your pants, I lightly blush.  
As you tilt your head, two curls fall out of place.  
Your coy glances now and then cause me to smile.  
Jade-like hands grasp flowers.   
  
Deep in your heart you probably suspect you're not my latest catch,  
But your intimate love for me is still like that of the "former carriage".  
You're enough to make the girls of Yan envious,  
And cause even Zheng women to sigh. _  
  
The mix of delicacy and sensuality, the implied shyness of the young lover, all reminded him of Wufei. He wondered if the emperor's coy youth, with his rosy cheeks and jade-like hands, could kick a man's teeth in like his Chang?   
  
The founders of L-5 had apparently chosen to leave such choice bits of literature and history behind on Earth. Homosexuality had not been legally outlawed there; it was simply treated as if it did not exist. Family and honor were everything. One did not go against that.  
  
But that was all gone now. The only survivors of L-5 besides Wufei were a handful of people who'd been off-colony at the time of the self-detonation. As far as Zechs knew, Wufei had no ties there. He was as much an orphan as one could be. Zechs had experienced such tragedy first hand; it was another bond between them.   
  
He shook his head. When had he started being human again? In the beginning he'd tried to hate Wufei, only to find himself intrigued. In the end it seemed he'd snared himself in his own half-hearted, teasing seductions.   
  
Did he love Wufei? Perhaps it was too soon to ask that, but he felt more for him than he had for anyone in years, and that was a start. Their shared understanding still staggered him. He used to wonder what it would be like to have a real conversation with Yuy, away from battle and distrust. Instead, this other golden-skinned pilot, this high strung bundle of contradictions had appeared out of nowhere, unbidden and unwanted, and given him back a piece of his soul.   
  
Smiling, he searched for more poetry, building up a stock for later. Wufei, with his cold little verses about dead wives and lonely nights, had professed to know of no erotic Chinese poetry. Yet there was a wealth of it, left behind here on Earth. In the third century, the poet Ruan Ji had written:  
_  
In days of old there were many blossom boys --  
An Ling and Long Yang.   
Young peach and plum blossoms,   
Dazzling with glorious brightness.   
Joyful as nine springtimes;   
Pliant as if bowed by autumn frost.   
  
Roving glances gave rise to beautiful seductions;   
Speech and laughter expelled fragrance.   
Hand in hand they shared love's rapture,   
Sharing coverlets and bedclothes.   
  
Couples of birds in flight,   
Paired wings soaring.   
Cinnabar and green pigments record a vow:   
"I'll never forget you for all eternity." _  
  
There it was, in black and white, with no room to equivocate over gender. Perhaps those poems were a bit much to spring on the poor boy right away, but Zechs looked forward to quoting them to him someday, perhaps after he'd discovered whether or not Wufei was agreeable to "sharing coverlets and bedclothes."  
  
"Paired wings soaring." He closed his eyes, imagining Tallgeese or the Epyon, paired with Shenlong. What a fearful combination that would have been!  
  
He smiled again, noting how such thoughts got his blood up. He really was on the mend. He glanced at the telephone on the bedside table. No. He'd keep his word, and trusted Wufei to do the same. It was a matter of honor. But oh, how he ached to see him "joyful as nine springtimes," and be the cause of it.


	50. Night Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

A cold October rain squall did nothing to deter the crowds that flocked to Louis Armstrong Park on the thirtieth. Bloom's Traveling Show of Wonders would open tomorrow, in the big white tent decorated with orange sunbursts. Tonight it stood dark and ghostly beside the smaller silver and black tent a few hundred yards away. An avenue had been marked out with crescent moon-shaped lanterns from the park gates to the ticket booths and covered annex that led into the main tent. Inside, a round black circle of raised stage stood under two steel archways that intersected at a ninety-degree angle. The one that ran front to back disappeared behind black curtains. In the shadows, speakers and an elaborate lighting system were hidden in the black super structure. Banks of seats faced the stage in a semicircle, facing a black silk scrim at the back of the stage which Quatre had painted with a twisted tangle of silver roses and moon flowers blossoming under an ominous looking moon.   
  
There were programs decorated with similar designs. Inside were photos of the actors in full make up and costume, their faces hidden behind elaborate masks. The cryptic titles of their acts were given, with hint of what it might be, but no names. All of them, even Trowa, were listed simply as "The Night Company."  
  
Heero and Duo had front row seats near the scrim, handy for Duo to slip backstage and help Trowa and Quatre with their makeup. Staff make up artists would take over after tonight, but they'd wanted him for opening night. The body paint had been his idea, and his design.   
  
The "Gundam Fearsome Foursome's" nighttime antics and Trowa's free pass idea had guaranteed them turn away crowds. Tonight's performance, and the actual revelation of what he'd been so obliquely promoting, would make or break the venture. They'd all stayed in last night, and no one had done any drinking in two days.   
  
The moment arrived. Every black and silver seat was filled, and a hush fell over the crowd as the tent went dark. Then a blinding searchlight flashed briefly, sweeping the black stage and making the audience blink and squint. It strobed again, showing the empty circle, and a third time, giving a startling glimpse of a very tall, very thin figure in black that had somehow materialized at center stage.   
  
Duo grabbed Heero's hand, tense and squirming with excitement.  
  
A softer, blue tinted spot came on, centered on the tall man in black. It was Trowa, Heero knew, but he doubted anyone else could have recognized him. A collective murmur rippled through the crowd.  
  
Quatre had designed Trowa's outfit as a parody of a traditional ringmaster's suit. He wore a dented black silk top hat tilted forward over his face, with a raven's feather stuck in the band. His torso was bare under a loose black cutaway tailcoat. The sleeves of the coat were short, baring his wrists and the glint of silver bracelets made to look like barbed wire. His tight black leather pants were laced up the sides, baring a generous expanse of pale skin. His black boots had a high heel to increase his already considerable height, and silver death's heads capped the long sharp toes. Duo had used bone colored make up and shadowy highlights to make Trowa's face, chest, and belly look supernaturally gaunt, and his mouth was painted to look wider than it was, more visible to the crowd. He looked spectral and sinister. Heero thought of vampires again, but Trowa had no fangs, just a coiled bullwhip held loosely in his right hand.  
  
He stood motionless, eyes hidden in the shadow of his hat brim. He seemed unaware of the crowd leaning breathlessly forward. Then that painted mouth widened in a sinister smile.   
  
When he spoke at last, his voice was the husky, insinuating one he'd used at the clubs, with an edge of menace. He spoke slowly, as if caressing every word with his tongue.   
  
"Ladies and gentlemen." The smile tilted a bit. "Ladies-- and ladies!" Someone in the crowd let out an approving whoop and Trowa's head came up a little, so that they could just see the dark glint of his eyes as he licked his lips and smiled a little wider, and twitched the whip against his thigh. "Gentlemen and not so gentle men! Welcome all, to the Circus della Notte's premier performance. You, our honored first audience, will see wonders unlike any other ever presented under the big top. No lions. No clowns. Not a dancing pink poodle in sight." He paused and licked his lips again. "I can assure you, they were delicious!"  
  
He let the flurry of nervous laughter subside. "No, we are purveyors of only the finest dreams and nightmares here. Every performer you will see tonight has witnessed death and destruction first hand. Our souls are tainted, our dreams often dark, but don't be afraid." He twitched the whip again. "Well, not too afraid, anyway. After all, you're safe out there, outside the charmed circle. My lovelies can't get out, I assure you. Not unless I let them out."   
  
A ring of silver white neon lights glowed softly to life, outlining the perimeter of the round stage and a deep, ominous pulse of electronic music welled up.   
  
Trowa flicked the long whip out to its full length in front of him and silver sparks flew from the tip. He smiled and patted his hat more firmly on his head. "So, mes amies, it begins!"  
  
Lowering his head again as the music shifted to something even more ponderous and dark, he began to sing.  
  
_/Sick things with scars  
Rotate around my stars./_  
  
A star pattern appeared on the floor around him and began to swirl slowly. Trowa cracked his whip and it spit sparks, making even Heero jump. He sang on, voice growing deeper, harsher.   
_  
/Sick things,  
My things!   
My pets, _ my _things!/_  
  
The music swelled. Lights pulsed, adding a surreal glow. Trowa whirled the whip around himself, creating a small storm of sparks and gunshot cracks as the black floor, actually a cleverly stretched scrim, started to ripple and roil around him at his summons. The lighting shifted, casting a dull gray glow over it at an angle that threw shapes into relief as they pressed up through the cloth, hints of clawed hands, rounded breasts and buttocks, and tortured faces. Trowa spun, grinning wildly, and sang in a growing snarl:  
  
_/I love you, things, I see  
As much as you love me./_  
  
He struck the scrim and tore the cloth. Bizarre figures, naked except for elaborately molded leather masks and codpieces and body paint, erupted up from the hole, tearing it wider. Elsewhere, silvery claws tore more holes, releasing more of the writhing figures.  
_  
/You things are heavenly  
When you come worship me!  
You things are chilled with fright   
For I am out tonight.  
You tell me where to bite.  
You whet my appetite!/_  
  
The "things" writhed and tore at each other. Groups of two or three or four simulated small orgies. Others rolled in apparent agony. Catherine was out there somewhere, and Quatre, too, along with most of the other cast and extras from the day show.  
  
The music shifted, grew softer, but still with that deep pulsing beat that Heero could feel in his own chest like a second heartbeat. He'd had no idea what to expect, but nothing like this. It as dark, as promised, and disturbing, but there was something primal about it, too. Duo pulled his hand into his lap, letting Heero feel the erection in his black jeans. Heero felt his own body stirring, reacting to the sights and music.   
  
The tattered scrim disappeared, pulled aside by silent motorized wires, to reveal the true stage. It was black, but painted with stylized stars and clouds like a stormy sky. Trowa stood above it all, on a small raised platform. He laid about with the whip and the creatures began to untangle themselves and form a crouching, cowering circle around him. As he sang on it was more like talking, almost a whine.  
_  
/I eat my things.  
What looooove it brings!  
Come here, my things  
Don't fear, my little things!/_  
  
He beckoned and the creatures advanced on him, still wary of the whip hanging loose against his leg, but looking more dangerous and predatory by the moment.   
  
_/Sick things!/_ Trowa cooed.  
_/Pretty things!  
Playthings./  
MY THINGS!/_ Trowa roared as his body arched and the creatures surged forward in a writing mass at his feet, the closest fawning and pawing at his legs. The whip fell from Trowa's fingers and disappeared. One slender 'thing' with blue-streaked skin and a mop of familiar golden hair rose sinuously from the press and shamelessly stroked its master's thighs and crotch. Abandoning himself wantonly to the creatures, Trowa caressed his own chest, his voice a raw, throaty wail over the rising music:  
  
_/I love these things you see_  
As much as they love me.  
My things are heavenly   
When they come worship me!  
You sit there chilled with fright  
When we come out at night.  
We'll fill you with delight.  
We'll whet your AAAA-PPE-TITE!!/  
  
Trowa let out a long, ragged scream as the 'things' engulfed him, pulling him down and crawling over him with claws flashing. The light went red as the music rose to a shattering dissonance.   
  
It ended in a crash and the lights went out, leaving the shaken audience in complete darkness and silence. A lone, tightly focused spotlight flashed down, showing them a crushed black top hat where Trowa had been standing. Something dark and misshapen clattered past on too many legs and then even the hat was gone. The circle of light slowly closed to nothing.   
  
There was a moment of stunned silence, then the crowd went wild, screaming, clapping, cheering, and stamping for more. Heero and Duo were on their feet with everyone else as dim lights slowly rose over the empty stage.   
  
"Holy shit!" Duo yelled, jumping up and down and pounding on Heero's shoulder. "I mean, I saw bits and pieces, drawings, but-- Holy mother fucking shit!"  
  
\+   
  
The acts that followed all had a dark edge. The 'things' remained on stage in small groups, doubling as set movers and rope wranglers, as well as providing odd little tableaus and visual interest. They sat in rapt attention as a Chinese man climbed an ever growing tower of black chairs, and cringed as a naked woman painted gold whirled baskets of fire on long chains, painting designs on the air. Huge robotic figures transformed into a series of monolithic shapes reminiscent of mobile suits, then fell apart in scattered pieces across the stage, with no sign of the actors who'd given them life.  
  
The steel arch overhead was fitted with moving rails that transported set pieces for the high wire and trapeze acts. Mechanical arms appeared and stretched the wires, held platforms, dropped and retracted the climbing ropes. The music varied from harsh and jarring to a sweet caress when a trio of nearly naked women on a raised platform formed living sculpture with their bodies.  
  
The audience ate it up. They cheered and sighed and groaned with sexual tension. Heero felt it, too. His left hand and shoulder were sore from Duo's excited pummeling. After nearly an hour, during a second trapeze act, Duo leaned over and kissed him, whispering, "Be back. Gotta get 'em ready for their big act."  
  
"Red Silk?"  
  
"Yep. Can't wait to see what all the secrecy was about. Later!"  
  
Catherine came on with a version of her knife-throwing act. She wore one of Duo's more ornate half masks and was dressed as a dominatrix, her hair teased and streaked with gold.   
  
With her usual target of choice otherwise occupied, her victim tonight was one of the things, a muscular man painted blue and silver. Catherine chained him spread eagled to the wooden backdrop, then smiled at the audience over her shoulder and yanked his codpiece off, leaving him naked except for more paint. The crowd cheered, then gasped as she proceeded to come very close to making a eunuch of him with throwing blades and hatchets.  
  
A fire walking act followed, then the stage cleared completely and the lights dimmed. Duo returned and slipped back into his seat, leaning almost into Heero's lap and gripping his hand. "Here goes!"  
  
The lights dimmed more and a soft golden spotlight spread across center stage to the drawn-out, mournful wail of a flute. There was no tune, just a series of sad, breathy notes. It was prerecorded, like the rest, but the audible whisper of Trowa's fingers over the holes and the hitching intake of breath gave it a strange intimacy.  
  
Gears shifted in the steel arch overhead as a large, bunched mass of blood red silk appeared from the back. Hanging from a metal bar. It reached the apex of the arches at center stage and came to a halt. Two black banners spangled with silver stars tumbled down from the shadows to flank it and a black curtain fell behind it all. Something moved inside the red material, a jerking spasm, then the whole mass seemed to let go and fell in a long banner that reached to the stage fifty feet below. It hung there, and then shivered. The bar swiveled, turning the entire length to reveal the pale, thin, masked man holding himself in place as if crucified, by nothing but his hands fisted in the edges of the red silk.  
  
Heero caught his breath, unprepared for anything like this. One slip, one tear of that cloth and Trowa would fall. But his face was calm below the mask, his silvery body motionless as he hung there a moment more, as if caught in the lingering notes of the flute.  
  
The music changed, growing harsher, faster, as he suddenly tangled both legs in the silk and let go, sliding perilously close to the ground before he stopped himself somehow and wove himself into the cloth, seeming to struggle with it as he wound himself higher and higher. Lights were moving against the scrim behind him, and shapes began to form. They were indistinct at first, just flashes of white and red and green. Trowa reached the top of the banner again, swathed in red, then let himself fall again, this time spinning and twisting as the silk unwound around him. He climbed again, using only his hands and strong thin arms, then stopped half way and caught a few turns of cloth around his legs and upper arms, twisting himself backward, touching his feet to his head as he spun with arms outstretched.   
  
The shapes on the scrim took form, still abstract to many in the audience. But Heero recognized them, and so did Duo, clutching his arm.   
  
Mobile dolls. Leos and Cancers. Epyon. Tallgeese. And Shenlong, Wing, Deathscythe and Sandrock. They were just partial shapes, blotches of color, but to any pilot who'd fought those battles, it was clear. They were all there, all but one.  
  
"He's Heavyarms!" Duo whispered. "That's space and he's Heavyarms!"  
  
Heero nodded, and put an arm around Duo as tears stung his eyes. Trowa used the silk to fly as the music grew more frantic. He threw himself through the air, tethered by a single hand at times, whirling and twisting, tangling and fighting. In the end it became a painful struggle. He climbed one last time accompanied by aching wailing notes, then fell in a spinning death spiral, only to end caught in the silk like a broken puppet, hanging by one leg, the other splayed out awkwardly, head down, arms limp.   
  
"That's when we lost him!" Duo whispered, pressing his face to Heero's shoulder. Heero held him tighter as the music died away, leaving only the sound of people softly sniffling in the dark around them. There were other pilots in this audience, other soldiers. Even civilians who couldn't know what Trowa was revealing now, even those people saw the pain in that final fall. Only when it was over and the light was dying did Heero recall that the sketches for this act had been labeled "Passage." He wondered what that meant to Trowa.  
  
Trowa hung there, twisting slowly as a new note sounded, the sweet sound of a violin. The black star banners shivered, then some outer layer fell away, leaving long swaths of white and golden silk in their wake. The red banner was lowered, bringing the limp pale body to the stage and smothering it there.   
  
A crowd of thing creatures stole in, circling the pile of fabric, and pulling the fallen black cloth into a circle around it. The violin played on, Quatre's work, as soothing and melodic as the flute had been sad and dissonant. The red banner rose slowly again and withdrew as it had come, and where it had been there was now a raised, white-draped platform and two figures; Trowa sprawled as if dead, in the same mask but dressed now only in the revealing leather straps from the drawings.   
  
The other figure, looking smaller than he really was in the straps and half face mask, knelt over him and touched his chest. Trowa arched under Quatre's touch, came up into his arms, and somehow traded his mask for the other half face mask without revealing his face or how he managed it.   
  
Quatre pulled him to his feet and the flute joined the violin, still sad, but gentle and melodic now, a duet. Trowa gathered Quatre into his arms and Quatre climbed onto his shoulders, balanced perfectly, then bending back to clasp his ankles. What followed was the full version of what Heero and Duo had glimpsed that morning in Madrid. Slow acrobatic contortion was how it was listed in the program. The title said it all; "Meld." They twisted around each other, balanced each other in impossible poses, wound around each other's bodies like snakes, as the duet spoke of two souls becoming one. It was erotic. It was sensual. It was beautiful and heartbreaking. There wasn't a dry eye in the house when they came to rest at last entwined in each other's arms, masks close together to form a single face as the golden light faded to black.  
  
The crowd exploded, the lights and music came up in a reprise of the opening song, and the company rushed back onto the stage, still masked. Trowa came in from the back, having somehow managed to change back into his sinister ringmaster's outfit. He sprang in a running leap to body surf his way to the front of the group. They deposited him on his feet and Catherine and Quatre, still in costume, stepped in on either side, wrapping their arms around his waist.   
  
The crowd gave them a thunderous standing ovation that went on and on. No one in the company bowed. They just stood there motionless as the lights dimmed to swirling stars, staring back at the audience.   
  
At last Trowa stepped forward and raised his right hand, gripping the coiled whip and motioning for silence.   
  
When everyone finally quieted and sat down again, he bowed. "Ladies and gentlemen, gentlemen and ladies, we thank you for sharing this piece of the night with us, here in this city of death and sex. We hope we made you feel with us: love and lust, life and death, nirvana and nadir, but most of all the fact that, for at least a little while longer, you are all still--alive! Wrap yourself around someone for what remains of this night, drink and fuck and laugh and share that life with them. After all, it's all we really have to give each other. And now-- I release you!"  
  
He unfurled the whip and struck at the front of the stage, shattering some of the white neon of the charmed circle. Sparks shot up and a section of the circle went dark. The company let out a collective demon shriek and flooded out, streaming down the aisles past the startled audience to disappear through hidden exits in the back. When it was over the stage was empty except for Trowa's battered top hat, caught in a sharp white beam of light.  
  
Heero and Duo stayed in their seats as the house emptied, euphoric and drained. When the last of the audience was gone, Duo grabbed Heero by the hand and pulled him backstage, where the company had gathered again. Trowa was standing with his arms around Quatre and Catherine, talking with a group of reporters. He spotted them and waved them over. Duo elbowed his way though the crowd and launched himself into Trowa's arms. Trowa caught him up, laughing, and kissed him. Duo wiggled free and wrapped himself around Quatre and Trowa at once, jumping up and down as he hugged them.   
  
"You did it! You really fucking did it and they loved you! Did you hear that crowd?"  
  
Trowa caught Heero's eye and motioned him over to join the group hug.   
  
"It was amazing," Heero told him, kissing him and Quatre and handing them both the bouquets of roses he'd had hidden under his seat. Cameras flashed, capturing Trowa and Quatre's looks of pleased surprise, and Heero blushing.  
  
"I'd like to introduce our master mask artist and make-up designer, Duo Maxwell," Trowa told the reporters. "And our new apprentice mask maker and emotional mainstay, Heero Yuy. And now, absinthe and oysters for everyone!"  
  
The public after-party lasted for several hours, with more interviews and endless photographs with each other and various celebrities who'd been in the audience.   
  
Heero and the others escaped at last in a rented limousine, along with Catherine and a few others from Trowa's inner circle. It was nearly four when they arrived at the house, to find Marie waiting with champagne and a hot breakfast.   
  
As they sat around over plates of sausage and eggs, Quatre climbed onto a chair and raised his champagne glass, motioning for silence. They'd all changed into jeans and sweaters and everyone was a little drunk. Quatre was wavering dangerously on his chair, and Catherine stepped in to steady him.   
  
"We have several announcements to make!" Quatre told them, a bit more loudly than necessary. "Cathy, you go first." He surrendered the chair to her.  
  
Catherine smiled down at Trowa. "Trowa, my darling, my best friend, and my brother, I have three-no, four things to say to you right now. I love you. You are an absolute genius. Your show was a brilliant smash, and so--- you're fired!"  
  
"Huh?" Duo grunted, leaning on Heero and Trowa at the same time.  
  
"That's right," Catherine told him, beaming at Trowa, who was blushing and wiping his eyes. "Tro and I have had a secret deal for a while now. I wasn't sure about this new venture of his. It's not the circus I know. But I know how brilliant he is, and you, too, Quatre, and Duo, too. Those masks and costumes were--well, they were obscene--but beautifully so. You're all wonderful and once I saw the direction things were going, I knew it was going to be something amazing. I just needed to know if the audience was going to agree. Well, you all heard them. Heero, what did you think?  
  
Everyone clapped. Heero raised his champagne glass. "It was a tremendous success."   
  
"Damn straight it was!" Duo yelled, and let out a howl. Trowa, Quatre and Heero joined in, then everyone else.   
  
"Damn straight!" Catherine laughed. "So Tro and I agreed that if it was, I would fire him with a two week notice from Bloom's Traveling Show so he and the others can put all that genius into Circus della Notte, full time."  
  
"Della Naughty!" said Duo. "I'm making him change it for sure, now that I've seen it. I think he got Quatre pregnant out there."  
  
Quatre gave him a tipsy grin. "You wish, Auntie Maxwell!"  
  
"Anyway, I'll miss you." Catherine's voice broke over that, but she was still smiling. "But your understudies will be thrilled. Trowa's been hogging the headliner spot for years now! Trowa, boys, I wish you all every success in the world. Break a leg!"  
  
Wiping her eyes, she relinquished the chair to Quatre again. He climbed back up and looked lovingly down at Trowa. "I have some further announcements. As most of you know, Trowa has chosen October thirty first, Halloween, as his official birthday. By my watch, he's been twenty years old for about four hours now."  
  
Everyone clapped and cheered and pounded Trowa on the back. He looked like a shy kid again, free of costumes and make up. But he was smiling, too.   
  
"So this is your first official Halloween birthday party," Quatre went on. "I wanted to make it special. It already is special, with the show, and being here. Folks, Trowa loves New Orleans. It's the only place, ever that he said he loved. And he's spent the last couple of weeks showing the rest of us why he loves it. I wanted to get him a present to celebrate all of that, and help him remember forever what this has all meant to us." He jumped down off the chair and went to Trowa. "Trowa Barton-Winner, for my sixteenth birthday you gave me the best present I could ever have: yourself. You asked me to marry you that day. But you already have me, so I had to find something different to match that. Happy Birthday, Trowa!" He grinned up at his husband, eyes bright with some secret.  
  
"So what is it?" Duo demanded. "What's this amazing birthday present?"  
  
Quatre was still gazing up at Trowa. "You're all standing in it." He pulled a long blue envelop from under his shirt and handed to Trowa. "This is the deed, mi amor. You spent months finding this place, and talked my ear off about. I've seen how you fit here, in the house and the city. So I'm giving it to you, the house and New Orleans. We don't have to live here all the time; that's up to you, but now you have a place you can always come back to and call home."  
  
Tears were streaming down his face and Trowa's and just about everyone else's by the time he was done.   
  
Trowa took the deed and stared at it, then pulled Quatre into a hug. "Thank you, corazon, thank you! I love it and I love you. But you've gotta know, anywhere you are is home to me!"  
  
That pretty much finished everyone off. Even Heero was wiping his eyes. They had more champagne, then guests went home, and the four friends and headed upstairs.   
  
"So you really like it?" Quatre asked. "I mean, you were just looking at it as a temporary rental, I know, so if you want to sell it or--  
  
Trowa grabbed him and flung him over his shoulder, carrying him up the stairs. "I love it, mio dolce. I chose it because it was perfect. Once I saw it, I'd been thinking I'd see how the show went, and how you liked it, then buy it for you!"  
  
Duo rolled his eyes. "I think they like it."  
  
"Would you like Duo and I to sleep next door?" Heero asked as they reached the bedroom door.  
  
"Yeah, first night in your new home and all?" Duo said, grinning.  
  
Trowa set Quatre on his feet. They exchanged a look, and then held out their hands to the others. "Come to bed. Some of us have to work tomorrow!"  
  
+  
  
The news was full of their success the next day, from the local papers to GNN. It would have been in any case, given their continuing notoriety, but the show itself was a sensation and by that night every remaining performance in New Orleans was sold out. Shows had to be added, to meet demand. Within days cities around the planet and colonies were calling Trowa's agent on L-3 with offers to book the show.   
  
Heero went again the next night, and helped Duo backstage. It was astonishing what went on there. Planning coordinated attacks on OZ had been simple, by comparison. Trowa and Quatre seemed to be everywhere at once when they weren't on stage, handling every minor crisis as it came up. Duo helped out with make-up, and soon put Heero to work dabbing and airbrushing paint onto naked bodies. It was fun work and they both could have gotten laid several dozen times over if they'd been open to invitations. Duo laughed about it, but the other cast members soon learned how unwise it was to proposition Duo, even jokingly, within earshot of Heero.  
  
They staggered home around three, exhausted and flushed with another successful night. This time Heero did pull Duo into their separate bedroom, and not out of any consideration for the others.  
  
+  
  
The sound of his cell phone woke him a few hours later. Sliding out from under Duo's arm, Heero grabbed it and carried it onto the balcony before it could wake his sleeping lover.  
  
"Hello," he growled, still half asleep and not happy to be out in the cold rain naked. Marie waved up at him from the garden and he turned back to face the door.   
  
"01, is that you?"  
  
"Affirmative." Instantly alert, Heero registered that it was Sally Po on the other end. The fact that she'd used his number and the tension in her voice told him no names were to be used and the line assumed unsecured.  
  
"Can't talk now, 01. I'm sending you a present. Check your mailbox. Copy?"  
  
"I copy."  
  
The line went dead. Heero went back into the bedroom and pulled out his laptop. Duo mumbled sleepily into his pillow as Heero sat down on the bed and called up his public email account. There was no message. Frowning, he dialed into his secure server; somehow, Sally had gotten his private, unhackable address. Wufei must have given it to her, at least he hoped so, but why? They'd all agreed not to share that information.  
  
There was one message there, from a blocked address. His frown deepened as he read it.  
  
"Sorry to dump this one you, 01. I've seen the news and know you're all busy. But you have a friend in need up here. Situation serious. Please meet me at dragon's lair ASAP. See attached files."  
  
The files were encrypted, but Heero soon had them open. They appeared to be Wufei's medical records, with a cover letter from Sally.  
  
"You know I wouldn't do this if it wasn't an emergency. 05 has had a serious nervous collapse. I've been expecting it for years now, but didn't anticipate what would finally set him off."   
  
He scanned the rest quickly, frown deepening to a concerned scowl and outright shock. He read it through again, sifting out the facts, then shook Duo by the shoulder. "Wake up, Duo. We're going to L-4 and you're piloting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CdN's opening song adapted by T. Barton-Winner and Q. Winner-Barton from "Sick Things" by Alice Cooper, Billion Dollar Babies album, 1973, Pre-Colony.
> 
> I hinted earlier that Trowa had been studying old vid disks of Cirque de Soleil, and was using it for inspiration to create CdN. Red Silk was inspired by an act in Quidam. Meld was inspired by an act in Saltimbanco. The rest is all my own-er, Trowa's doing.


	51. Prickly Pear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Relena took note of Zechs's rise in spirits, those last few days in the hospital, and he let her think what she would, not ready to share the reason just yet. She'd had a bit of a problem with Yuy and Maxwell, or so some of the tabloids had hinted, and he knew all too well that she was uncomfortable with his own orientation. His relationship with Wufei, if it could even be termed that yet, was too tenuous to speak of. He could care less whether she approved or not, but he suspected that Wufei was in not a state to weather her disapproval. His own feelings might still be too raw and uncertain. And Relena was still technically Wufei's employer. No, he would wait and see what thoughts Wufei had had this week, then proceed from there.  
  
All the same, he couldn't help asking after him and Sally during the short flight home after his release. Her answer was oddly noncommittal, but at the time he was too busy with other thoughts to take proper notice. The doctor still had him on pain medication, as well, and now that he was up and about more, he began to notice how mentally fuzzy they made him. He had perused his file of poetry during the flight, still wondering if he dared share the Ruan Ji just yet. Wise or not, he'd made up his mind that if Wufei had gotten cold feet, he would find some way to sway him. He knew himself too well not to admit that there was an element of the hunt in his motivations, but only an element. Even if Wufei left him, it should be with a better understanding of his own heart. The sort of torment he'd seen in the boy that last night could turn all too quickly to self hatred if suppressed again. If Wufei could not be happy with him, he should at least be happy with himself.   
  
But Zechs would not willingly let him go.   
  
The journey and being moved about was more tiring than he liked to admit. By the time they drove in through the gates of the estate, he was looking forward to dispensing with any formalities and having a quiet chat with Wufei. The household was assembled in the front hall to greet him. He looked around expectantly, but saw no sign of Wufei or Sally.   
  
He acknowledged the greetings and well wishes from the staff, but his gaze roved the room restlessly, not finding what he most sought. "Where are Chang and Po?" he whispered to Relena.  
  
Her smile tightened a bit as she took his arm. "Come, let's get you settled. You look so tired."   
  
Interpreting this as 'not in front of the help', he allowed her to walk him to his room before he confronted her.  
  
"Where are Chang and Po?"  
  
She guided him to his bed and settled him there, then sat and took his hand. "Oh, my dear Milliardo! I've been dreading this moment. I didn't say anything while you were in the hospital because there was nothing you could have done and it would only have upset you."  
  
"What are you saying, Relena?" There had been some accident. His mind leaped to Wufei behind the wheel of the Porsche on those treacherous roads, the very roads he'd driven on so recklessly. Or the horses. Or . . . Her next words rocked him as much as that other news would have.  
  
"He's gone, Milliardo. They both are. He didn't really give me an explanation. He seemed upset over something soon after you left, and asked for reassignment. I granted it, of course. I couldn't make him stay. Sally is his partner, so she went, too."  
  
"Reassignment?" Of course.   
  
_/I can't be like those men in the club./_  
  
But he'd given his word. He'd said he'd stay until--  
  
_/I can't do that!/_  
  
"Milliardo, what's wrong?" Relena leaned closer. "You're so pale. Here, you're overdue for your medication. Here, let me help you. You'll feel better if you rest."  
  
"I don't need rest, or pills!" he gritted out. He needed- No, no point in admitting that. "I need some time to myself. If you'll excuse me."  
  
Zechs pushed her out of his way as gently as he could manage and strode out of the room. She was right; he was exhausted and his shoulder hurt like a bitch. The neural calibrations had not been pleasant. His head was swimming by the time he reached Wufei's room.  
  
He'd never had occasion to come in here while Wufei had occupied it. He wasn't certain what he'd expected, but one look confirmed what Relena had told him. The guest room was in perfect order, neat and as devoid of any personal effects as a hotel suite. He walked in, feet sinking into the deep carpet. He was truly dizzy now.   
  
_/He gave me his word!/_  
  
The coverlet on the bed was as smooth as a billiard table. The bathroom gleamed, not so much as a toothbrush or single black hair in the tub left behind. There was not even the lingering scent of the rainwater scent of his hair, or that enticing musky sweat after their workouts--- /Don't think of that! He's gone!/ It smelled of cleanser.  
  
A surreal sense of calm stole over him as he opened the large closet and saw the black cashmere overcoat and the blue Chinese silk shirt hanging there. A carton of neatly folded clothing was on the floor below. The black sweater and jeans were on the top.   
  
"Milliardo, what's wrong?"  
  
He turned sharply, not realizing his sister had followed him. She looked concerned. "He just left? Did he--was there a note? A contact number?"  
  
"No, should there be? I didn't think you two got along that well."  
  
"We did, after awhile," Zechs murmured.   
  
It wasn't like he blamed the boy. He'd been a shit from day one, and a wolf. Wufei wasn't stupid and he wasn't a child, young as he was. He'd been through the wars, too. No, he'd just come to his senses, that's all. That was why Zechs had left him to himself this week, after all, to let him think without undue pressure or influence from him.   
  
_/But still,/_ a stubborn, naive, hurt part of him insisted, _/he gave his word!/_  
  
"He left these?"  
  
"Yes. Something about regulations, I gathered. I thought you might want to donate them. The Peacecraft Charitable Trust collects clothes for the needy."  
  
"No." He passed his hand over his eyes. "I'll take care of them. Leave them."  
  
"Of course." She slipped her arm through his and guided him back to his room. "You must rest, Milliardo. Don't worry. The new security detail is top notch. When you've had a nap and some dinner, I have a list of magazine people who've requested interviews. No, don't worry about that now. We have plenty of time to discuss that. Oh, but do consider this. The Veterans Rehabilitation Organization has asked if you might consider a pictorial on the new arm. They were wondering if you might be up to talking with someone tomorrow . . ."  
  
Zechs stopped listening. The house seemed to close in around him like a prison again. The shadows seemed as menacing and claustrophobic as the first day he'd come here.   
  
But Wufei had been with him then.  
  
+  
  
The next day passed in a dreary fog. He could not ride his depression off, as he usually did, and when he tried to lose himself in his books he found himself reading the same paragraph over and over, without retaining a word. He could not bear company, barked at the servants, and was barely civil to Relena. The girl hovered, her concern clear, but he wanted none of it. He let the pain medication knock him out early that evening, but woke in darkness with a dry mouth, a pounding headache, his shoulder on fire, and an aching sense of futility.  
  
He glanced at the clock on the night table and grimaced. /Here we go round the prickly pear at five o'clock in the morning./   
  
He put on his dressing gown and made his way down to the library, more out of habit than anything else. And that's where the cognac was. Sitting there, nursing his drink by the cold hearth, he brooded.  
_  
/He wouldn't leave like that, after giving his word./  
  
/Oh, grow up, for fuck's sake! How can you cling to that after everything you've seen and done, eh? Who are you to hold a kid you hardly know up to that empty standard?/_  
  
He drained the glass and poured another, but sipped this one more slowly as the pain in his head and shoulder began to recede.  
  
He looked around at the bookshelves. A few volumes were missing, a gap here and there where Wufei or Sally had borrowed something. It was the only sign that they'd ever been there at all.   
  
In the hospital, mooning over Chinese love poems, he'd pictured Wufei sitting in this very room, finding new pieces to share. And of course, pining for him. And all that time he'd already been gone.  
  
That thought needed another drink to wash it down. He was a grown man, for chrissake! He wasn't going to sit here and whimper over some lost chance with an employee. Damn right he wasn't!   
  
But no, that was his pride talking, and maybe a bit of the lovesick boy who'd watched Treize gradually withdraw just out of reach.   
  
"Treize!" he muttered. He'd had a lot of lovers since then, but not one he'd loved. Not like that, for all the good it did him. Not until Wufei.  
  
"Fuck!" He was about to hurl the glass against the hearth when a hesitant tap on the door stopped him. "Who is it?" he snarled.  
  
His valet, Tomas, peered nervously in. He was a colorless twig of a man, always polite and good at his job, but no one Zechs had warmed to. He hadn't given any of the staff much thought, really. He'd assumed they were all his sister's spies, since they were all in her employ rather than his, and not allowed himself to let his guard down.  
  
"Forgive me, your highness, but I saw the light. Are you all right?"  
  
"No, not really, but there's not much you can do about it!" Zechs went to the sideboard and refilled his glass. When he turned, Tomas still there in the doorway, fidgeting with his hands in the pockets of his plaid dressing gown. "Well? Was there something else?"  
  
Tomas took a hesitant step in. "I don't mean to speak out of turn, sir, but I was the one who packed up the things in Captain Chang's room."  
  
"So?" If the fellow expected a tip for doing that, he had another thing coming!  
  
"It's just, well, I thought you might want to see this." He took something from the pocket he'd been fidgeting in and held it out to him with a low bow.  
  
Zechs recognized the small white box. "Thank you, Tomas." He moved to pocket it, not up to seeing the necklace anywhere but on that perfect neck.  
  
Tomas cleared his throat. "Your highness? I think you might want to look inside."  
  
Biting back an impatient retort, Zechs pushed the lid aside with his thumb. The box was empty. "I see. Well, you needn't worry. He didn't steal it. It was a gift."  
  
"I'd rather hoped so, sir." The looked relieved. Relieved, and still very nervous. Something was not being said.  
  
"Sit down, Tomas." Zechs poured the fellow a cognac, then watched him down half of it at a gulp. "You have something else to tell me."  
  
"It'll be worth my post, your highness, but yes, I think I do. The other staff and I, we liked Captain Chang and Major Po. They were very polite and pleasant. We-- that is, some of the staff, sir? We rather thought you liked them, too."  
  
Zechs raised an incredulous eyebrow. "What possible business could that be of yours?"  
  
Tomas shrank back, clutching his glass in both hands. "I just thought you might wish to know that they did not appear happy when they left. I don't believe it was by their own choice. A woman came to speak with them, an officer of the Preventers. She had men with her, your highness, armed agents. They escorted Captain Chang and Major Po off the premises."  
  
A familiar, dangerous calm settled over Zechs. He refilled Tomas's glass and sat down. "When was this?"  
  
"The morning you left for the hospital, sir. The officer and her agents arrived about an hour later, asking for the two of them. We were told it was a matter of national security and that we were to say nothing of it to anyone, including you."  
  
"So you are committing treason, speaking to me now?"  
  
Tomas downed his drink and shrugged. "Perhaps. I hope you'll forgive me if I'm doing wrong, sir, but the look on that young man's face has haunted me all week. I don't know what became of him after, but he looked so--Well, I saw him when he left his room that morning and he looked fine. But after he'd talked with the woman, in here with the door closed, he didn't look well at all. Not at all, sir, and neither did Major Po. She looked ready to shoot someone, but he just looked ill. I wouldn't have said anything, your highness, but I couldn't help noticing that you seemed a bit upset not to find him here. It kept me up and then I saw your light." He turned his empty glass nervously in his hands.  
  
"I see. Did Captain Chang leave anything else behind?"  
  
"No, your highness, not that I noticed."  
  
"And you know nothing more of why Chang and Po were sent away?"  
  
"On my honor, your highness, I'd tell you if I did!"  
  
"Did my sister say anything to you about this?"  
  
"No, your highness. We've seen nothing of her until she came in with you today."  
  
Zechs nodded slowly. "I must ask you again, Tomas. Why did you go against a direct order to tell me this?"  
  
Tomas stood and pulled himself up. "My family has served your family for six generations, your highness. I didn't know that woman. I may have done wrong, sir, but it didn't seem right, the way it happened. And as I said, we all liked Captain Chang, and, well, it seemed you did, too."  
  
Zechs hoped he still knew an honest man when he saw one. "Thank you, Tomas. I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. I think we should both pretend this conversation never occurred. Agreed?"  
  
Tomas bowed to him again. "Thank you, your highness. You have my word, if you'll take it. Good night, sir."  
  
Zechs waited, giving the man time to return to the servant's wing, but he didn't drink any more. He'd had enought to dull the pain in his arm.   
  
He kicked off his slippers and walked barefoot back to Chang's room. He closed the door, and drew the heavy drapes before he turned on the light. A towel from the bathroom across the bottom of the door to block the light should keep anyone else from looking in on him.  
  
He went to the closet and checked the pockets of the coat, then ran his hands over the silk shirt. Nothing there. Taking the carton of clothing to the bed, he dumped it out and searched the pockets of the jeans and trousers. A piece of paper fluttered free of the pile and he snatched it up, but it was just a list of the clothing. Only then did it occur to him that this was *all* the clothing he ordered, including those that had still in bags in the bottom of his own closet the day he'd left for the hospital.   
  
Each item was listed neatly in a familiar girlish hand that was most certainly not Wufei's, and each was checked off, except for one. One of the overcoats was circled, with a question mark beside it. It was the coat that had been lost that night in Le Fleur.   
  
He felt a wolfish grin coming on. Was this more of the helpful Tomas's doing? And how the hell had Relena known what he'd bought, down to the penny? Or that he'd bought anything to begin with? No, he'd been right about some of the staff, at least.  
  
But they hadn't known about the necklace, because he hadn't bought that. And if Wufei had seen this list, he might have figured that out, too, and taken it as a sign.  
  
Wufei had looked ill when he'd gone, Tomas said. Zechs hoped the boy would forgive him for the way his heart had leapt, hearing that. No, it had not been his choice to go.  
  
He'd never been given any information on Wufei, no phone number or email address. God only knew if he would be reachable at either at this point. An armed Preventer escort? Good god, did they think he was an assassin or something?  
  
That gave him pause. He wasn't so love struck that he could rule out the possibility that there had been a good reason for Wufei and Sally's removal. Not rule it out, perhaps, but he had a damn hard time believing it. But clearly it had been a Preventer matter, rather than a police one and he was not without connections there. He'd start with Une, and then take Relena by surprise over breakfast, if necessary.   
  
As he turned to go he noticed something he hadn't earlier. There was a small stack of books on the dresser in the corner.   
  
The one on top, a book of Japanese verse, was not from the house library. The other two he recognized. The Eliot was his own copy, the one he'd lent to Wufei. He smiled sadly, wishing the boy had taken that with him, too. And here was poor despised Emily Dickinson, accounting for one of the empty spaces on the library shelf. Perhaps Wufei had tried to give her work another chance? He was about to set it aside when he noticed the edge of a sheet of paper sticking up from between the pages. It was a note. There was no date or signature, but there was also no mistaking Wufei's precise, upright printing.   
  
"Sorry to keep this so long. You were right. Dickinson is brilliant, most worthy of perusal. Didn't care much for the Eliot. Agree with you that his verse is 'halting, overly sentimental, and didactic.'"  
  
He chuckled to himself as he reached for the Eliot again. He remembered that conversation and knew Wufei would not make such an error in quoting himself. And he sure as hell didn't think his taste in verse had changed that drastically in a week's time. Now to find what he was being directed to.   
  
There was no note to be found, and nothing written in the margins that he could find. He doubted Wufei carried invisible ink on his person. Zechs sat on the bed, turning the two books over in his hands and reviewing what he knew.   
  
It didn't sound like Wufei been given time to carry out elaborate secret plans. No, he was a Gundam pilot, and if Zechs had learned anything about that breed, from Yuy and Barton, it was that they knew how to work with whatever was at hand. He paged through again, and this time he found the little slip of folded paper tucked deep between the pages near the middle. Clever Wufei! Poetry had been their weapon of choice and secret language; leave it to him to use it now.   
  
But his relief quickly faded as he eagerly scanned the marked pages. The book was a complete collection of the poet's work, and this section was devoted to the collection called "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats." The poems marked were "The Old Gumbie Cat" and "Growltiger's Last Stand." They were nonsense poems, written for children. He'd never cared for them and couldn't imagine serious minded Chang Wufei getting anything out of them. He read them anyway, trying to find some significance in the doings of Jennyanydots or Growltiger, "the terror of the Thames." He held the pages to the light, looking for marked letters, some sort of code, but there appeared to be nothing there.  
  
"Come on now, Chang, you're too much the scholar to mix up author's names like that, and you sure as hell don't like Dickinson or this drivel. What the hell were you trying to say?"  
  
He picked up the scrap paper bookmark, intending to mark the place again, when he noticed two things he hadn't before. The piece of scrap had printing on it, and something written on it, too, near the top end. It looked familiar, too, and he realized with a start that it was a Chinese character. "Come on, Chang, you know I can't read this!" he growled, feeling like he'd hit a brick wall. Unwilling to admit defeat yet, however, he unfolded the scrap and saw that it was a page torn from another book. A book of verse! The poem on this side of the page had several large X's and scribbles drawn through it. Turning it over, he found a short, untouched verse.  
  
  
_After his tryst  
he too may be looking up  
on his way back home--   
while for me a night of waiting  
ends with the dawn moon._  
  
  
He turned the scrap over, looking more closely at the character written there. He did recognize it; it was 'beauty', from the back of the necklace. The necklace Wufei was still presumably wearing, or at least cared enough about to take with him.  
  
_Beauty._  
  
He walks in beauty, like the night.   
  
While for me a night of waiting.   
  
Zechs sank down on the edge of the bed, heart beating fast in his chest. Wufei hadn't gone back on his word. In the face of an armed escort, he'd taken the time to leave him this.   
  
Was he seeing only what he wanted to see? He didn't think so. With anyone else in the world, he might call this all coincidence and wishful thinking, but not with Chang, not his precise little scholar. He checked the number at the top of the torn page and found where it had been torn from the Japanese verse collection. It was one of a trio of poems by someone named Fujiwara. He wondered fleetingly if that was a man or woman's name, and who had been doing the lonely waiting while the other lover was out trysting.   
  
"Did you really just pull that one out of the air, little Chang, or had it already caught your eye?" He let himself hope for the latter.   
  
He returned the clothes to their box in the closet, tucked the torn page into its place and took all three books with him.  
  
He was halfway back to his room, already rehearsing Une's private phone number in his mind, when it occurred to him that the woman officer who'd come for Wufei might very well have been her. As elite, high ranking agents, Wufei and Sally answered directly to Une. And Relena must have gone to Une in order to have them assigned as his minders.   
  
This gave him pause. The most dangerous enemy of all was the one you trusted as a friend. Well, he'd never really considered her a friend in the old days, more like the crazy bitch Treize was banging instead of him, but in these enlightened times, she was technically on the side of the angels. If she wasn't, if this was some new mind fuck Relena was pulling on him, for his own good, no doubt, then there was a fifty-fifty chance that Une was in her pocket. Calling her now would be tipping his hand.  
  
So would packing a bag and stealing the roadster. And there was the small matter of his arm.  
  
No, one more day and a bit of advance reconnaissance was the smarter route.   
  
Then again, as any good pilot knew, fortune favors the bold.


	52. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

There was too much information in the files Sally had sent him for Heero to cover before they left. The salient points were in her cover letter: 1. Wufei had been assigned as a bodyguard to Zechs Merquise, who was now in protective custody under his sister's auspices, 2. Wufei had developed sexual feelings for Merquise, 3. Relena had found out and blindsided him with trumped up charges and gotten him and Sally suspended 4. Wufei was back on L-4, having some kind of mental breakdown over the whole mess.  
  
He shared this information with the others in the dining room while Duo set up a shuttle rental under an assumed name. Trowa and Quatre were still in their robes and disheveled, but wide-awake.  
  
"Wufei is gay?" Trowa looked as shocked as anyone. "Is she sure?"  
  
"It might explain a lot, love, if he's been in denial all this time," Quatre said quietly. "I knew he was unhappy, especially around us. It--well--" He trailed off, frowning.  
  
"He hurt your feelings," Duo muttered, coming in to join them and giving Quatre a hug.   
  
"I'm sure he couldn't help it. Go see if you can help him, Duo. You owe him," Quatre sighed. "I wish I could go with you."  
  
"You and Trowa can't leave the show. Sally knows that," Heero told him. "We'll see what's going on and call in. We can make plans from there."  
  
+  
  
Duo was ominously quiet all the way to the launch port and Heero left him alone, concerned for now that they get away without attracting any attention.  
  
Dressed in ordinary jeans and jackets, baseball caps and sunglasses hiding their more distinctive features, they got through the rental office and took off in their rented four-seat Starblazer. Heero left the flying to Duo while he went back to work on the medical and personnel files Sally had sent. He was aware, however, that Duo was silently fuming. He said nothing, knowing that whatever it was, it was going to come out soon enough. It did.  
  
Duo glared out the cockpit window, concentrating on getting them out of the atmosphere, but soon he was twisting his hands on the joysticks. As soon as they were gravity free and on trajectory for L-4, he slapped down the autopilot switch, snatched his hat off and attempted to throw it against the view port in zero-G, then pounded both fists on the armrests of his seat, body puling against seat restraints.  
  
"Fuck!"  
  
Heero sighed and looked up from his tethered laptop.   
  
"Fuck!" Duo exclaimed again, snatching at his floating braid, twisting it in his hands. "I do not fucking believe this!"  
  
"Any part in particular, given how little we know?" asked Heero.  
  
"Any of it!" Duo cried. "Is he out of his fucking mind? I mean, Zechs-fucking-Merquise? It's not bad enough that he goes to work for that psycho bitch Une. Don't even get me started on what I think of her after what she did during the war, to me and Tro and Wu-man! And you! How you could go to work for her--"  
  
"Duo."  
  
"Ok, Ok. Everyone's building a new, unified world, blah blah blah. Fine. Great. Whatever. But now he's got the hots for the Lightning Count? Forgive me if I don't get all wet over him banging the son of a bitch who tried to blow up my boyfriend how many times?"  
  
"Those were duels."  
  
"And dropping Libra?"  
  
"He came to his senses in the end," Heero reminded him.  
  
Duo glared at him. "And what's with that, huh, you always defending the guy?"  
  
"He self-detonated to save the rest of us. At the final moment, he was willing to do that. And he tried to get me out, too."  
  
"Oh, well, that just makes it all better! What if Tro hadn't shown up with your buster rifle? Think Zechs's selfless act would have made any difference? No! Earth would now be enjoying a permanent global ski season, and you'd be-You'd be-" He choked off, gripping the joysticks in a white knuckled death hold again.   
  
"I don't defend what he did with White Fang, but before that he proved repeatedly that he was an honorable man. He had plenty of chances to kill me, Duo, but he didn't. He wouldn't. I'm sorry, but I do respect him for that. And he was an incredible pilot."  
  
"Well, excuse me if I don't get a hard on over him!"  
  
"Fine."  
  
Duo fumed some more, glaring out at the stars.   
  
"Duo?"  
  
"And Wufei!" He slammed his fists down on the armrests again. "That fucked up, hypocritical, stick-up-the ass little closet case! You saw how he was about you and me, right?"  
  
Heero gave him a wry look. "He was uncomfortable. But that's hardly surprising if he was fighting against such tendencies himself. And I keep thinking of how he said he was jealous." He shook his head. "You and I were able to accept our sexuality so easily, with no pressure to be anything else than what we are. You're not taking into account how he was raised."  
  
"I don't give a shit! You've only had a little taste of the famous Chang disapproval. You don't know the ration of shit he's laid on Tro and Quatre. Sure he was real quiet about it, didn't come out and say much, just that look, y'know? But he wouldn't even come to their wedding. Their wedding, Heero! The most important, special day of their lives? Bad enough you weren't there, but at least you had a decent excuse. Know what he said?"  
  
"No, what did he say?"  
  
"He had 'other plans.' Way to let them down easy, huh? Quatre cried, Heero. He cried! I let Wufei have it the next time I saw him, believe me, but he just went all silent and Chinese on me. It was like yelling at a brick wall. OK, so maybe that's ancient history, but how about how many times Kat tried to get an answer out of him about coming to their opening night? Are you telling me Mr. I'm-More-Fucking-Educated-Than-the-Rest-of-You-Put-Together doesn't know what RSVP means? No way, he just blew them off! Again! I was gonna ream him out for that, anyway, but now this?"  
  
"And yet, from what I understand, he was always there if one of you had a crisis. Especially you, Duo," Heero reminded him quietly. "And I know what he did, trying to find me. He was always there for you if someone was in trouble."  
  
"I know, I know!" Duo groaned, banging his head against the back of his seat. His floating braid writhed around his head. "I'm not saying I hate the guy, Heero. Hell, I'm worried sick about him right now! I'm just so fucking pissed off at him, too, and I need to get it out of my system before we get there, OK?"  
  
"Do you need to be spanked?" Heero offered, concerned at the way Duo was chewing at his thumbnail. Glancing back at the shuttle compartment, he gauged how much room they had.  
  
Duo snorted and shook his head. "Thanks, baby, but this is just good ol' Shinigami righteous indignation and frustration with the situation. I owe him a lot. I do. I just can't believe this! But I promise I won't jump on him, at least not until we see how bad off he really is. So, what else did Sally send?"  
  
Heero pulled up the top file. "According to her off-the-record report, he's been showing increasing signs of PTS for at least the past year. Risk taking, weight loss, depression, withdrawing more than usual from social interaction."  
  
"Like that's possible! He was never Mr. Social, and the guy turned into a damn hermit way back-" Duo paused, still gnawing at his nail. "Well, right after you took off, actually. And it's not like we didn't try to hang out with him, either. He just didn't-Jeeze, maybe we missed something with him, huh?"  
  
Heero reached over and pulled Duo's hand away from his mouth. "There have been some other incidents, an altercation with a coworker, fights with strangers that Une was able to hush up. Sally covered for him, too. It seems you may have been right about the pot smell in Madrid. He's been experimenting with cannabis in a variety of forms since he left Relena's detail, but only recreationally, according to this. She wasn't concerned enough to report him, and didn't confront him about it until recently. He was careful, stayed clean for the periodic tests, and didn't let it affect his work."  
  
"Wufei high? Now there's something I'd like to see," Duo muttered.  
  
"Sally seems to think he's been using drugs the way the rest of you used sex, as a coping mechanism and stress relief."  
  
"Hey, we all went the chemical route, too, especially Kat and me. Tro and Wufei had their hands full for a while with that. But at least we had some fun, too. Wuffie was just too up tight to party and have a good time with it. Or anything else, apparently." He shook his head again and sighed. "I gotta tell ya, I'm surprised about the drugs, but never in a million years would I have guessed he had a gay bone in his body." He blinked, and then let out a sputtering laugh. "Guess that was part of the problem. No gay boners in his body!"  
  
"Not funny, Duo. He didn't know that he was gay, or bisexual," Heero interjected, and outlined Sally's G-factor findings.  
  
"Well, that explains a lot. Otherwise, what are the odds that all five of us would be playing on the same team? Once you go Gundam, you never go back, I guess."   
  
He went quiet for a while, but from the corner of his eye Heero saw how he was fiddling with the end of his braid, flicking his chin with it and nibbling at stray hairs. Again, he waited, letting Duo build up to whatever it was that was distressing him.  
  
Duo sighed at last. "Y'know, J and the others might not have been so wrong after all, about how we'd all pair off. I mean, after the past couple of weeks, right? We're almost as good as having sex with Tro and Kat." He frowned out at the approaching moon. "You're pretty into that, right?"  
  
Heero let the laptop float on its tether as he unhooked Duo's belt and pulled him into his lap. "Talk to me, little mermaid."  
  
Duo blushed and hung his head. "I'm supposed to be the wild one, right? Notorious slut boy, Duo Maxwell! But, well, I do get off on what we're doing and all, really, but--"  
  
"But you're worried about things going any further?" He pulled the abused braid from Duo's fingers and it floated around them like a living thing.  
  
Duo shrugged.   
  
Heero stroked his cheek. "I don't think they need to go any further. Neither does Quatre. He says Trowa is doing much better, too. Maybe it was just the shock of getting me back, on top of the stress of launching the show? Or maybe it's enough that he knows he can show affection for me now without so much guilt. Are you not OK with that?"  
  
"Dunno."   
  
"You are my one love, Duo. What the four of us share together is really good, but it's not the same. I think Trowa understands it better than any of us, since he was raised that way. It's called polyamory and it's not that common. But Trowa grew up around it. He told me himself that very often not everyone in a given group has sex with every one else, even though they all consider themselves joined as partners." He held him closer. "In all honesty, if it were important to you that we have sex with them, I probably could. I think you could, too, and would have eventually if I hadn't come back. But I don't need to. I only need you. And to be honest, I don't know if I could share you that way with anyone else, not even them."   
  
He considered telling Duo that he'd been researching the L-2 civil union laws, but this wasn't the time, not when Duo was upset about so many other things. Instead he simply said, "You are my one true love, Duo, my only beautiful mermaid."  
  
"Yeah, you, too, 'cept for the mermaid part." Duo rubbed his head against Heero's, and then snagged the computer. "So, what else we got on the Wu-man situation?"  
  
Heero reached around him and brought up the medical file. "He's been in good health, maintained his wartime fitness level, and hasn't seen a doctor for anything other than regular check ups and work related injuries. Apart from the weight loss, he's considered a bit undersized, but that may be natural, like Quatre."  
  
Duo read along with him. "IQ level way up there, naturally. Hey look, here's his real birthday. December seventh. Kat's going to be disappointed. He was really getting off on being the baby of the group, especially after they found out how old Trowa really is."  
  
Heero stared at the entry.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you notice anything about that date?"  
  
"December seventh?"  
  
Heero shook his head. "Not that. The year."  
  
"AC one eighty-one?" Duo took another look. "Whoa! Eight one? But that means unless this is just some clerical error, that he's still only seventeen!"  
  
"And barely fourteen at the start of Project Meteor."  
  
"Holy shit! And he'd have to have known it, too, and the people who chose him." His violet eyes widened further as he counted backwards on his fingers. "Then when he and Sally were bumping uglies, he was only--Jesus, do you think she knew? And now Zechs! He's what, like fifty now?"  
  
Heero chuckled. "Early to mid twenties, I think."  
  
"OK, but damn! Kat's only two years younger than Tro. Think we should get that dental scan thing, find out you're really this runty middle-aged guy and I'm twelve or something?"  
  
"I had it done when I joined Preventers. My estimated age is correct. And, according to the records I hacked in Madrid, Batoosingh ordered one on you, as well, the first time you were committed at Winner Memorial. You're on target, too."  
  
An alert chirped, alerting them that they were approaching L-1 traffic space. Duo pulled himself back into his seat and buckled in. He seemed to have gotten most of the shock out of his system for now, but he kept muttering to himself, fidgeting and shaking his head. Heero prepared himself mentally for more fireworks upon arrival.  
  
Still puzzling over Wufei's records, Heero tried again to imagine what 05 could be feeling. Heero's own sexuality had not been much of an issue. He sublimated it to the mission throughout the war, and then gladly accepted that he was attracted to Duo. Not to "male" or "female," just that one person. The fact that he'd responded sexually to the others probably meant he was gay, but it just wasn't an issue. He didn't care what anyone else thought, and neither did Duo or Trowa. Quatre still worried about what some of his family thought, but not enough to do anything differently except keep a lower profile about his active role in the circus. But they hadn't been raised on L-5.   
  
Evidently Wufei had never consciously questioned his orientation; any feelings he'd had to the contrary must have been difficult to even acknowledge, must less accept. He wondered what could have happened with Zechs to change that?  
  
+  
  
Duo led the way from the shuttle bay, and they walked the twelve blocks to Wufei's apartment in L-4's extensive Chinatown. The buildings and streets were standard drab colony design, but bright with Asian colors, signs, and smells. The ground floor of Wufei's building housed a Chinese traditional pharmacy, with ropes of ginseng and dried mushrooms hanging in the windows. Inside the building, however, only the occasional cooking smell suggested they were anywhere in particular. L-4 was a helluva a lot nicer than L-2, but this was the same damn prefab architecture.   
  
He and Heero took the elevator up to the tenth floor and knocked at 10-T. Duo braced to face Wufei; he'd promised himself and the others that he wouldn't go off on the guy when he was down like this, but he was still feeling pretty pissed.  
  
Sally answered, dressed in old fatigue pants and a tee shirt. She ushered them in, holding a bulging trash bag in one hand. "I'm so glad you're here! I'm sorry I didn't call you in sooner, now that I've seen him. I finally got the super to let me in last night. Believe it or not, this is better than it was."  
  
Looking past her, catching the smell of the place, Duo felt his resentment and anger give way to shock. Or maybe deja vu. Goddamn, how many times had the others found his little shit hole apartment looking like this, after one of his meltdowns?  
  
The few times he'd dropped by here, Wufei's rooms had been immaculate, spare, bright, everything gracefully arranged and orderly. Now there were books, clothes, and half empty take out boxes scattered everywhere. A painted crane scroll Wu had been very proud of lay in a torn heap on the floor by the kitchen door, beyond which Duo could see pots and bowls heaped in the sink. Judging by the tangled blankets and pillows on the couch, Wufei must have been camping out there. The smell of spoiled food made him grimace.   
  
Spoiled food, and something else, Duo thought. "Where is he?"  
  
Sally gathered up a few more cartons and stuffed them in the bag. "Asleep in the bedroom. Physically he's not too bad, considering. I got some liquids into him."  
  
"What's that smell?" Heero asked, wrinkling his nose.  
  
Sally went to the cluttered table by the couch and picked up some kind of long, fancy Chinese pipe with a green stone bowl.   
  
Heero's look of dismay darkened to a disbelieving frown. "Opium? How long as he been doing that?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm as shocked as you are, believe me," Sally replied. "I have to hand it to him, he was really sneaky about it."  
  
Duo stared at the pipe. "Wufei's a smoke hound?"   
  
Sally tossed it onto the couch in disgust. "An addict? No, I think I would have picked up on that in Sanque. I knew about the pot, and the THC-38."  
  
"He was doing thirty eights? Jesus, Sally, that's serious shit!"   
  
"He wasn't an addict, Duo. He couldn't have stayed clean the way he did if he was. Not with that stuff. Same goes for the opium. But it looks like he's been self-medicating heavily since he got back."  
  
"When did he last smoke?" Heero asked, sinking down on the arm of a leather armchair in the corner.  
  
"I let him have a small dose this morning," Sally said, and then held up a warning hand before Duo could explode. "I hate to admit it, but he must have done his homework. It's a natural antidepressant, and isn't necessarily addictive when used recreationally in small doses. That's why I let him have some more, rather than check him into the hospital. I'm hoping you guys can get him through this without all the public fuss. Understand?"  
  
"You don't think he's in any immediate danger, then?" asked Heero, starting for the bedroom.   
  
"No. His vitals are fine, considering. It's his emotional state I'm worried about. Go have a look, if you want, and then I'll fill you in. There's a lot I didn't want to send in writing, even on a secure line."  
  
The small bedroom wasn't in any better shape than the living room, but the bed had been freshly made and Wufei was curled up asleep in it, his hair loose in a greasy tangle on the pillow. He was paler than usual, dark under the eyes, and looked like he'd missed a few meals. But he was also smiling blissfully, and that alone was enough to set off Duo's alarm bells. Those alarms got louder when Wufei opened his eyes and gave them a sweet, totally uncharacteristic smile. "Yuy, Maxwell! What're you doin' here?"  
  
"Hey buddy, we heard you weren't feeling so good." Duo sat down and looked more closely at him, thinking, 'Seventeen, huh? Jesus!'  
  
Wufei's large irises were very dark, almost a true black, and looked even darker now with his pupils constricted down to pinpoints. Duo had some experience with opiates. Wufei was deep in poppy land, all right. That sense of reverse deja vu hit him again. How many times had Wufei found him or the others like this? Wufei shifted again, and Duo caught a pungent whiff of that sick, unwashed smell that just screamed "pilot down!"  
  
"Jeeze, Wuffie, guess it was finally your turn," he said sadly.  
  
"M'OK," Wufei mumbled, burrowing deeper under his black and red silk comforter. "How're you?"  
  
"I'm good, Wu-man. Heero's here, too. Guess you woulda tidied up if you knew you were gonna have company, huh?"  
  
Wufei sighed and closed his eyes, still smiling.  
  
Duo patted his shoulder. "Sleep it off, buddy. We've got your back now."  
  
Heero looked ready to chew glass as they went back to the living room and found Sally gathering dirty clothes into a basket.  
  
"You let him have that drug?" Heero growled, keeping his voice low.   
  
"I told you, it's an antidepressant. And believe me, he needed something. I wouldn't have chosen that route, but for now it's what I had to work with."  
  
"What the hell did Zechs do to him?" Duo demanded, feeling another Shinigami surge coming on.  
  
"Sit down, both of you. A lot has happened since you saw him in Spain." Sally dropped the basket and sat down in the chair. "He was already running on empty before you turned up again, Heero. He has been for a long time. Your 'death' almost put him over the edge."  
  
"Did you know how old he really is?" Duo interrupted.  
  
Sally sighed and shook her head. "Not at first. He'd been using the May fifth date on all his records and I assumed it was close to the truth. It was quite a surprise, to say the least. I think it helps explain a few things, though. Highly intelligent kids mature much faster intellectually than they do physically or emotionally. Wufei is exceptional, of course, like you all are, but I think knowing about the age difference just went that much further to keeping him from fitting in with the rest of you, along with everything else."   
  
"That and the rampant homophobia," Duo added.  
  
"And that, yes. I know it was probably hard on the rest of you at times, but it's very common in latent cases. With his damned L-5 socialization and all the emotional shit of the war on top of that, he's the most sexually repressed guy I've ever met, and I say that as someone who's been intimate with him. He really couldn't help it. That's what's working against him now, too, you see. Repressed or not, he's a healthy, physically normal young man hitting his hormonal peak. That all built up like water behind a damn, and unlike the rest of you, he didn't have any safety valves. He was too much the dutiful good son to go wild like you did, Duo. And he didn't have your unique personality or training, Heero. He just sort of hunkered down and ignored everything that was building up and festering. He was too introverted to let of steam, so he very quietly did drugs instead. I tried to help him, but obviously I wasn't what he needed."  
  
"That must have been difficult for you," Heero murmured.  
  
"It was. It is. And now I feel like I really let him down, too." She rubbed her hands over her face and smoothed back the strands that had escaped her braids.  
  
"What happened with Zechs?" Duo asked again.  
  
"I can only tell you what I saw. He won't talk about.   
  
"When we came on the detail back in early September, Zechs had been in a coma in a tissue regeneration clinic for over a year, and then in some sort of institution. He still seemed a little unstable when we came in, at least at first.   
  
"Relena worked damn hard to keep him from being charged, and to get him repatriated to Sanque. You're statements after Libra were a great help, Heero. But there are still death threats against him. Our security detail was the real deal, not some political cakewalk. Relena felt he'd do best in a safe, controlled environment, and set him up in one of the royal family's country houses on the coast. She meant well, but you can imagine what a man like Zechs would think of being forced into retirement like that. She had him on far too tight a leash, but was right in thinking that people like Wufei and me would be the best ones for companions, especially Wufei. She trusted him implicitly and, well, the fact that he was ostensibly straight had a lot to do with her choice."  
  
"I bet!" Duo muttered.  
  
"Long story short, Zechs spent the first few weeks trying to get a rise of him, and doing a pretty good job. Wufei was already fragile, and doing some THC-38 in his spare moments, as it turned out. I had a little talk with him, mostly because I was concerned at how Zechs was affecting him. Things improved after that. Wufei got his act together and ended up being just what Zechs needed. They really are a lot alike in many ways. They spent a lot of time together and it appeared they were even becoming friends. Zechs is really a very charming man when he wants to be, highly educated and cultured, with a genuine appreciation for the warrior way."  
  
"Just like Wufei," said Heero.  
  
"Except for the charming part," said Duo.  
  
"Yes. That's what brought them together. But Zechs is also a man of the world, shall we say, and very much in tune with his own nature, which is highly sexualized and romantic in the most masculine sense of the word. You saw my report on the G-factor among Alliance and OZ pilots? Zechs has it in spades. I know for a fact that he started out playing with Wufei's head, and I was prepared to step in, but something happened before I could. Zechs had been sneaking off the estate at night and going to sex clubs. Apparently Wufei found out, and ended up going with him a few times as bodyguard. It was on the risky side, but all within mission parameters. I was the backup.   
  
"Our last night there something changed. Turned out Relena had had someone tailing her brother. She had some photos of Zechs and Wufei together at a club and a restaurant and--well, there was some dancing and some kissing that didn't reflect very well on Wufei. Especially not with Relena. I got all this from Une the morning she came for us, the same day Zechs left the estate for reconstructive surgery on his arm. That was no accident, I'm sure of it."  
  
"You said Relena threatened to bring charges against you both?"  
  
"Wufei was really rattled that night. Whatever was going on, it was enough to make him forget to set up backup when he and Zechs went to another town to have supper. I didn't even know they were gone. Relena's watchdog caught them out and gave her the full report. So he got the d.o.d."  
  
"But other than that, they were just dancing and kissing?" asked Duo.  
  
"As far as I know. But it was enough. Wufei had been a wreck for a couple of days and having Une slap those photos down in front of both of us like that was devastating. I wish you could have seen his face. I thought he was going to faint on the spot. Given his personality, I can only imagine how guilty and conflicted he was already feeling. Then she hit him with the dereliction charge. And apparently Zechs had also given him some clothes. Wufei assumed they'd been provided by Relena as cover for the off site work, but that wasn't the case and she's choosing to see it as another serious breach of the ethics code. Wufei was in hell by the time Une finished with him. The bottom line is that we're both suspended and threatened with formal charges if we have any contact whatsoever with Zechs."  
  
Heero frowned. "But only if you do that?"   
  
"That's right. As long as we stay away from her brother, no charges."  
  
"Blackmailing you, in other words?" sneered Duo. "Poor Wufei falls hard for a guy, gets his world flattened even more by Relena, and now he can't even see the guy he's lost everything over?"   
  
"Psychologically, a worst case scenario."  
  
"Which accounts for his current condition," Heero finished for her.  
  
"I'm still not too clear on whether or not Zechs was just playing with him," Duo said.   
  
"Neither am I," Sally admitted.   
  
Duo growled and twisted his braid in both hands. "There is just so much Peacecraft ass I wanna kick right now."  
  
"Affirmative," Heero growled. "Where are they now?"  
  
"At the hospital until yesterday. I saw on the news that he was back at the estate. Relena is there with him, as far as I know."  
  
"I see. My last conversation with Relena was rather tense. She was upset that I was in love with Duo, rather than with her. Do think she would be upset with Wufei in the same way, over her brother?"  
  
"Sure sounds like it."  
  
"Then that would be a complicating factor, regardless of Zechs's actions toward Wufei."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Heero stared down at his hands for a moment, then looked to Sally. "I should go and talk to her."  
  
"I don't think that's a very good idea right now, Heero."  
  
"Then what should we do?" Duo demanded. "We can't keep Wufei smoked forever, can we? This will all still be waiting to kick him in the teeth when he comes down."  
  
"Yes it will, and I haven't been able to make much headway with Une, trying to get him out from under those ridiculous charges. As it stands, I probably shouldn't even be talking about any of this with you two. But he needs you. Can you stay with him for a while? I'll do anything for him I can, but I'm neck deep in it, too. He needs good friends right now, until he can work some things out in his own mind."  
  
Heero stood and went into the kitchen, pulling out his cell phone as he went. Duo heard him speaking low to someone for a few minutes, and then he was back.   
  
"Quatre says to bring him down to New Orleans. Did Une place any restriction on his travel?"  
  
"I don't think so, as long as she can reach him. He has a cell, and a Preventer email account."  
  
"Good. Sally, would you please gather up any documents and equipment he might need? We'll spend the night here and let him detox, then make plans from there."  
  
"Sure but you'll have to wait until I do some laundry. He doesn't have many clothes and most of what he does have is dirty."  
  
Duo exchanged a look with Heero. "Last I knew, all he has are uniforms and those baggy Chinese pants and coats. I'll go buy him some normal clothes, to keep us under the radar while we travel."  
  
"Good idea, 02. Sally, go home and get some rest. Do what you can here and keep us informed."  
  
"I should show you how to administer the opium, in case he needs it."  
  
"No. No more drugs," Heero warned. "If things get bad we'll call a doctor we know, but I don't think 05 will need that."  
  
"What about withdrawal?" asked Duo.  
  
Sally shrugged. "I don't think he's had time to do himself too much damage. He was clean for over a month in Sanque, and Une said he was lucid enough when she talked to him the other day, just run down and volatile. That doesn't sound like opium and I don't think he's experimented with stimulants. He might have some sweats and chills, though. Maybe some diarrhea."  
  
"Charming."   
  
"He may just be sluggish, but I'd look out for serious mood swings, too, and not just because of the drug."  
  
"Don't suppose you'd like to come see Tro and Kat's new house in New Orleans?" Duo wheedled.  
  
"No, I think maybe I can do more good staying here and seeing what else I can get out of Une. Call me if you need me, though."  
  
"I'll go down with you," said Duo. "You can point me at some places to get clothes. I won't go far, Heero, and I've got my phone. Maybe you could get him cleaned up a little while I'm gone. He's pretty ripe."  
  
"Hn." Heero sighed and nodded. "Copy that."  
  
+  
  
Heero distrusted drugs on principal, having had very few good experiences with even the legal medications. It was shocking to see someone like Wufei under the influence like this. It did make it somewhat easier, however, to get him out of the stained sweats he was wearing and into the bathtub, but it was like handling a stranger. He already wished he'd thought to ask Sally to do this; they had been lovers at one time, after all, and he'd been naked with her. But Sally and Duo were already gone.  
  
Wufei lay back in the tub, still smiling that inane drugged smile. Heero shook his head. He liked Wufei and he respected him. This was like seeing Trowa cry.   
  
Wufei was wearing a necklace on a leather cord around his neck, a small lotus shaped pendant made of what looked like white jade. Concerned for the leather, Heero felt behind his neck for the clasp or knot to remove it.  
  
Wufei jerked and reached unsteadily for Heero's wrist. "Noooo!" he whined. "Leave it 'lone."  
  
Heero did as he asked. He started with Wufei's hair. Perhaps it was because of his own fixation with Duo's hair, but it felt too intimate, doing this for someone else. Wufei's hair was much longer than it used to be, and floated out around his head when Heero leaned him back in the water. It was very straight and fine, and soft, too, once it was clean. Wufei didn't own conditioner, but the shampoo with its unreadable Chinese label left it soft, with a light, pleasant scent. It was nothing like sandalwood, more like flowers.   
  
Wufei was quiet and unresisting as Heero washed his face, back and chest, but when it was time to move lower he pulled away and gave Heero a dazed look, mumbling, "What're you doing, Yuy?"  
  
"Just washing you, Chang, that's all. Would you rather do it yourself?"  
  
The look of confusion deepened in those dark eyes. He really did look young, like this, Heero thought sadly. Instead of answering him, Wufei lay back again and closed his eyes. Heero washed his feet and legs, and then approached the more personal area again. Wufei lay back and let him, even arching up a bit under the washcloth. His penis remained limp in the small nest of fine, jet black hair between his thighs, but his breathing deepened. Heero hoping this was only the drug, making him act in such a manner.  
  
"You touch Maxwell," Wufei whispered, reaching to stroke his cock under the water. Color tinged his cheeks and the gentle smile returned. "You touch Maxwell and he touches you."  
  
"Yes," Heero sat back on his heels, trying not to watch as Wufei touched himself.  
  
"S'good?" Wufei whispered.  
  
"Yes. We love each other."  
  
"Love." Wufei opened his eyes and gazed up at Heero, pupils still tiny, eyes vague. "S'good, love?"  
  
"Very good, Wufei. I'm going to help you out of the tub now. Can you sit up?"  
  
Wufei closed his eyes again, lost in his own smile and the feeling of his hand stroking his limp cock. "Nice, touching."  
  
Heero gently pulled his hand away and got him on his feet long enough to wrap a towel around him, and then swung him up in his arms. Wufei was smaller than Duo, and seemed even smaller as he curled up against Heero's shoulder with a sleepy, contented sigh. Heero prayed 05 wouldn't remember any of this later.  
  
Wufei's wet hair soaked through the shoulder of his tee shirt, and Heero thought again of that day he'd washed a concussed, confused Duo in that lake in Finland. This was very different. This was embarrassing and weird, but sad, too. He got him dried off and into the clean boxer briefs and tee shirt Sally had left on the bed, then went to work toweling and combing his hair.   
  
Combing out Wufei's hair wasn't like it was with Duo, just a task to be done for a friend. He was secretly relieved that it didn't turn him on the way brushing Duo's hair did. Perhaps he didn't have a hair fetish, just a Duo fetish. All the same, he gave a guilty little start at the sound of Duo banging back into the apartment.  
  
"Sorry Wuffie. You don't exactly live in the heart of the fashion district here," Duo apologized as he pulled out a pair of cheap blue jeans, a long sleeved white tee shirt with red dragons printed in a line down both arms, and a black hooded zip up sweatshirt with "Skytown Foo Dogs" stitched in red silk across the front. Cheap white tennis shoes and a blue Foo Dogs cap completed the outfit. "Not exactly a designer ensemble, but he'll look sorta cute, don't you think?" Duo grinned.   
  
Heero nodded. It was better than thinking about how 05 had looked, touching himself and smiling like that in the tub.   
  
"Damn, he really does look young, doesn't he?" Duo's grin faded to a sad look as he sat down on the other side of the bed. "I swear to god, Heero, if I find out Zechs did anything to him, Shinigami's going to put a serious hurt on him!"  
  
"I'll help you."


	53. Pilot Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The problem with opium was that it took away pain and inhibition without taking away memory. Wufei had chosen it for those very qualities, but now, knowing he had to face Yuy and Maxwell, he wished that he'd gone on a blackout drinking binge instead.  
  
Even if he had, though, waking up freshly bathed in a neatly made bed wearing nothing but underwear would have been enough to remind him that he had not been in control earlier. The memory of Yuy bathing him would go with him to the grave. He hid his burning face in the pillows, but knew he could not escape facing the others for long.  
  
The bedroom door was ajar. He cowered under the covers for a few more minutes, straining his ears to hear who was still in the apartment. He heard nothing. He seized the moment to find decent clothing.  
  
Someone had cleaned up his room. A basket heaped with clean laundry sat next to the dresser and he saw with relief that his yukata and sweatpants were neatly folded on top. Keeping one eye on the door, he hastily put them on, pulling the front of the cotton robe closed all the way up to his neck as if he could somehow cover his shame. Yuy had left the hairbrush on the dresser. He smoothed his hair, and then braided it tightly back, all the while carefully avoiding the mirror.  
  
A certain lassitude always lingered in the wake of an opium high, but it wasn't enough to deaden the jolt of conflicting feelings he experienced, finding Yuy and Maxwell asleep on his couch. Yuy sat upright at one end, head resting against the back of the couch. One hand lay on the armrest, the pistol on the end table within easy reach; his other arm was draped over Maxwell, who was curled up beside him, head pillowed in Yuy's lap. His pistol lay on the floor beside him, also in easy reach. Someone had propped a chair under the knob of the front door, with some pots and pans on the seat as a makeshift alarm. They must have been tired; it was an old safehouse trick, used when everyone had been too tired or wounded to keep watch.  
  
Mortified as he was at his situation, Wufei felt another, more confusing emotion sapping what little strength he had left, making him reach for the doorjamb to steady himself. In the pictures that had made him so uncomfortable, the two of them had been dressed for clubbing, and hanging all over each other. Now they looked like the boys he'd known in the war, the ones who'd tried to be his friends. They wore jeans and tee shirts and sneakers, like ordinary teens, but even asleep, there was no mistaking what they had been, what they still were. The habitual precautions were clear signals of that. But he saw more than that. The ease with which they fit together, the comfortable curve of Yuy's hand over Maxwell's shoulder, and the peaceful, trusting expression on Maxwell's face as he slept: Wufei could not find words for what that evoked in him, but it brought an uncomfortable tightness to his throat.   
  
He must have made some sound, because Yuy's blue eyes opened, instantly focused on him as his free hand unerringly found the gun. Wufei froze until Yuy acknowledged him with a nod, then retreated into the kitchen, the nearest route of escape from that knowing gaze.  
  
Once there, force of habit made him turn on the kettle and attempt to make tea. But his hands were shaking too badly. He fumbled the lid of the china pot with a clatter, and the precious, fragrant tea leaves scattered from the trembling spoon. If this kept up, he thought bitterly, he might have to lower himself to using teabags.  
  
He started violently as Yuy leaned in to take the spoon and tea caddy from his hands. He hadn't heard him coming but then, with Yuy, you wouldn't.   
  
Wufei braced his hands on the edge of the counter, staring down at the spilled leaves while Yuy prepared the tea. He pulled at the neck of his yukata, making certain it was closed up to his throat, and regretted leaving his feet bare. Even that much exposure made him blush. Yuy's feet were bare, too, but that was different. Yuy had no shame to atone for.  
  
He heard the teapot lid settle into place, and then a hand settled lightly on his shoulder.  
  
"You have nothing to be embarrassed about."  
  
He flinched away and folded his arms tight across his chest. "I beg to differ, Yuy."  
  
He took the hint and backed off, leaning back against the counter beside him. "I wish you'd call me Heero."  
  
"Why, because you gave me a bath?" Wufei gritted out, face aflame.  
  
"No, because I'm your friend."   
  
Wufei had to turn away and bite his lip, fighting back the shameful tears that burned his eyes. "I don't think I'm worthy of that."  
  
"You're wrong."  
  
Wufei shook his head slowly. "How much do you know?"  
  
"Sally filled us in on the situation with Zechs and Relena. We know about the suspension, and what the charges are. We both agree that they're unfounded."  
  
"No, they're not. I was derelict in my duty. I should think you'd understand that."  
  
"There was no threat. Merquise was in no danger. Given your condition--"  
  
"My condition! You know about that, too, do you? What exactly do you think my condition was, that I would forget something as simple and basic as setting up backup?"  
  
"Do you know why I left Relena's security detail?"  
  
The unexpected question made him look up. Yuy was still leaning against the counter, bare feet crossed at the ankle, elbows on the counter. Perfectly at ease. "You had a breakdown. You took yourself away."  
  
"That's right. The 'perfect soldier' broke down. It was a long process, though. It started before the war ended. But I held on, like you, as long as I could, out of pride and duty and denial, until I found myself standing in Relena Peacecraft's bedroom with a knife to her heart as she slept. How's that for dereliction of duty?"  
  
Wufei's eyes widened. "But you didn't hurt her. You went away."  
  
"I was lucky, I guess. She certainly was." Yuy shrugged again and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His tousled dark hair fell in ragged tufts over his forehead and around his neck. Wufei could hardly see the terrorist he'd been, looking like that. As those dark, intense eyes met his own, Wufei saw a depth of emotion in them he'd never seen before.   
  
"Duo, Trowa, Quatre: they all found that edge, too. You know that better than I do, Wufei. You were there for them when they broke down. You protected them. You had their back when they needed you. Duo was right, earlier. I don't know if you heard him, but he said that this is just your turn. You were the strongest, Wufei. You held out the longest of any of us. How could any of us think less of you for being as human as we are? Do you think less of us for losing it?"  
  
Wufei hugged himself harder and swallowed past the growing lump his throat. "I have no right to judge you."  
  
"That's not what I asked."   
  
"Perhaps I did--not you, maybe, but Maxwell and the others. It only makes me more ashamed now. I've been such a hypocrite! I'm sorry."  
  
Maxwell appeared the doorway, yawning and rubbing the back of his neck under his braid. "Hey, apology accepted. Welcome back to the human race. Got any coffee, Wu-man? That tea smells like boiled funeral flowers."  
  
+  
  
Relena was sipping her second cup of coffee in the window seat of the morning room when Milliardo came in. She smiled; he was dressed nicely for the day in flannel slacks and a close fitting blue sweater that matched his eyes. Her brother really was very handsome, she thought proudly. The missing arm took nothing away from that. She watched him as he went to the sideboard and poured himself a coffee. He moved so well, compensated so smoothly. That empty sleeve just made him look tragic and wounded, perhaps even a bit Byronic. It was almost a shame to fix it, but at least they had time for some interviews before the cybernetic arm was attached in a few days.   
  
"Good morning, Milliardo!"  
  
"Good morning to you." He smiled as he sat down the other end of the window seat. He didn't seem to noticed when his new Preventer bodyguards, Marilyn Jessup and Nadia Vasparak, nodded respectfully and withdrew into the next room.  
  
"How are you feeling today? Better, I hope?"  
  
Milliardo sipped his coffee. "Yes, but at a bit of a loss, I must confess. The garage seems to be locked and I can't find the keys anywhere. The servants are no help at all."  
  
"Just a standard security measure," Relena assured him. "With both of us here together, Jessup and Vasparak felt it would be wise to take extra precautions."  
  
"Ah, of course. They certainly are diligent. I can hardly set foot outside the house without them tagging along. Much more thorough than that other pair were, eh?"  
  
"I'm glad to hear it. So, are you ready for the interviews today? The man from Vanity Fair is duo in an hour or so. I thought you might like to talk in the garden, if this mist burns off."  
  
"Whatever you think best, Relena. Perhaps you could have someone move a chaise lounge out by the lily pool, with an afghan for my knees."  
  
Relena looked at him, then laughed. "You're teasing! The photographer was asking if you'd ride for him. I think that would make a nice impression, don't you, showing how strong and healthy you are?"  
  
"Whatever you say, dear sister. I'm sure you know best."  
  
Relena looked more sharply at him, but Milliardo only smiled back, his expression as mild and attentive has it had been in the hospital. There was no sign of the disappointment he'd shown when he found Wufei gone. Perhaps that had been only a passing fancy, after all. Now if she could just keep him away from Le Fleur for a few more weeks--or forever, she thought, but that was wishful thinking. He could have his clandestine little pleasures again, when he was stronger, and a proper prince of Sanque again in the eyes of the world.  
  
"Milliardo, what would you think of becoming the chairman of the Peacecraft Trust? When you've recovered from all this surgery, of course."  
  
Milliardo's smile widened. "Our opening move of the great game, eh? On the way to a cabinet post, perhaps, with an ambassadorship along the way as a stepping stone?"  
  
"You sound so cynical, all of a sudden!" Relena chided.  
  
Milliardo chuckled over his cup. "Do I? Forgive me, little sister. I'm a bit of a bastard before I've had my coffee. How are arrangements going for the press conference? Do you think the world is ready for Milliardo Peacecraft to step back onto the stage?"  
  
"Of course!" Relena said, patting he knee. "I've been laying the groundwork for you ever since--well, ever since the war, really. Sanque owes you that, for all you sacrificed."  
  
"My soul, you mean?"  
  
"You are being cynical! You and I, we're all that's left of the great Peacecraft family. Sanque needs us, even if only as figureheads. The days of monarchy are over and gone, but we must still strive to lead by example. You were an officer, Milliardo. You know what I'm talking about."  
  
He chuckled again. "Ah, yes. I'm to be made an example of."  
  
+  
  
Wufei didn't want to go to New Orleans. He didn't want to talk about anything with anyone, and had most assuredly not wanted to wear those jeans they'd bought him, though not for the reasons they probably assumed. He gave in to Heero's logic and wore them, carefully keeping to himself what the sensation of denim against his legs, even cheap, ill-fitting denim like this, did to him.   
  
Heero had waited until Wufei was awake to flush the last of his opium stash down the toilet and Wufei had let him, but he really could have used some now. Someone had found the bag of marijuana behind the top panel of the dish cupboard, too. He should have known better than to use a trick he'd learned taking care of Maxwell.  
  
No, he hadn't wanted to do any of those things, but the others were inexorable. They were kind and patient about it, but left him with no doubt that they'd be more than happy to zip him into a duffle bag if that's what it took to get him Earthside, and that Sally would help.  
  
He told himself he wasn't sulking as he buckled in behind aboard the shuttle. They knew about the drugs; he might as well start proving to them that he wasn't some pathetic junkie. He could do this without any buffer. At least Duo wasn't expecting him to make conversation. He and Heero kept busy in the front and left Wufei to brood on his own.  
  
He stared out the small window above his seat, feeling as black and empty inside as view out there. No, not empty, he had to admit. This must be what 'heartsick' felt like; it was real, not just a poetic conceit. He was indeed heartsick, and it left him helpless to curb his wanton mind from conjuring up a dark husky voice whispering poetry in his ear.   
_  
/Let us roll all our Strength, and all  
Our sweetness, up into one Ball:  
And tear our Pleasures with rough strife,  
Through the Iron gates of Life./_  
  
Iron gates. He shivered, searching inside himself for some solid ground to brace against. Instead, he found the memory of a strong hand pressed to his cheek, his hip, to the small of his back. He couldn't help reaching into the neck of the ugly sweatshirt to touch the carved jade still hanging at his throat. Was he wrong to wear it? Pathetic? Zechs would be back at the estate by now. Had he found Wufei's half-assed attempt at a message? Or had he already written him off as a weakling, a scared kid too spineless to keep his word?   
  
Too weak to fight back.   
  
Was he so afraid of jail? Did he really care what anyone thought of him? He glanced over at the others. They hadn't flinched before public opinion. Heero had faced down that German's accusation of prostitution without a second thought. Duo and the other two gave cameramen the finger, grinning as they did so. They all but had sex in public with each other on global television.   
  
He shook his head again, trying to square what he'd seen on the news the other day with the two quiet, competent people in charge of him now. No, they didn't skulk away, tail between their legs, worried what anyone would think.  
  
And who was 'anyone,' he asked himself. Who was it he was trying so hard not to shame himself before? He leaned his head against the thick glass.   
  
Himself.   
  
He couldn't help caring. It was all he had to cling to, that sense of self and who he d once been. With no future ahead of him that he could see, what did it matter?  
  
Without his pipe to fend it off, depression closed over his head like cold dark water, drowning him into a restless doze, only to wake again inexplicably sobbing against Yuy's chest. They were still in zero-G, and Heero was holding him as they floated free in the confines of the cabin, one arm around Wufei's back, the other cradling his head against his shoulder. Just for an instant, before his mind fully grasped what was happening, Wufei felt and smelled and yearned for a different man and his body reacted in what had so lately become the usual fashion.   
  
He pushed free from Yuy. Hauling himself back down into his seat, he fastened the seatbelt and pulled the baggy sweatshirt down to hide his aching erection. His whole body throbbed with it, no doubt because Yuy had been holding him. How many days now, since Zechs had done that for him? How long since he'd learned the sad truth of how badly he needed that? More tears came and he fought them back. A dismaying number of silvery droplets were already floating in the air around him. How the hell long had he been crying, before he woke up?   
  
Yuy buckled into the seat across from his. Wufei turned his face to the window, wishing a crack would open and suck him out. There was no other escape available, unless he locked himself in the bathroom. He could see over his own reflection's shoulder that Yuy was looking at him though the floating tears. He'd probably felt the erection, too.   
  
Now would be such a good time to die!  
  
He wished it even more when Maxwell floated back to join them, sitting on Yuy's lap and held in place by the circle of _/his lover's/_ Yuy's arms.   
  
"I'm OK," he muttered, pressing a hand over his eyes to block out the sight of them like that. "Just--just a bad dream."  
  
"You were saying his name," Maxwell said, gentle and calm and sad. Wufei had never heard him sound like that and it nearly broke him. Then Duo added, "You were calling for Zechs and trying to apologize for something," and Wufei did break.   
  
Curling up into a ball in his seat, he pressed both hands to his face, vainly trying to hold back the hoarse, wrenching sobs that overtook him. He couldn't. They ripped out of him, as the tears leaked through his shaking fingers. He couldn't even summon a halfhearted objection when Duo unbuckled him and pulled him in between his body and Heero's.   
  
Hands still pressed over his eyes, Wufei felt arms around him again, the warmth of two bodies bracketing his as he fell to pieces in front of them. Hands stroked his hair and back and shoulders, and a clean white cotton handkerchief appeared from somewhere, pressed into his hand. He clutched it and covered his face, biting on a fold of cloth to stifle the high-pitched keen welling up out of his heart. Oh, gods, this rivaled even Maxwell at his worst!  
  
"It's OK, Wufei, just let it out," Duo murmured. "It's all right now."  
  
"Nuh-no it's not!" he sobbed. "I told--told him--gave my word!"  
  
That's as far as he got for a while. Neither of them pressed for more. They just held on, keeping what was left of him together until he'd cried himself out. When he finally subsided to shivering, hiccupping whimpers Heero reached up and flipped on the scrubbers, holding a hand over Wufei's braid to keep it from being sucked into the vents with the tears. Limp against Maxwell's chest, Wufei turned the crumpled handkerchief over, looking for a dry part to clean himself up with. Heero produced a packet of facial tissues from his jacket pocket and handed him one. Wufei wiped his face and blew his nose on one, then let the scrubbers have it. Weak, hitching little gasps were still coming out of him and he closed his eyes again, and felt the arms around him tighten comfortingly.  
  
"I--I don't believe this!" he gasped, even as he surrendered to the embrace. "I'm so sorry!"  
  
"Don't apologize, Wufei," Heero rumbled, close to his ear. "I told you before, we've all been where you are right now. It will pass and you will feel better, but for now, this is what you must do."  
  
Une had tried to tell him that.  
  
"Talk to us, Wu," Duo urged, rubbing a hand up and down Wufei's arm. "I got enough fuel in this crate to keep us out here as long as you need, OK? You can yell and scream and cry all you want and not shock the neighbors. Better deal than I had, that time on L-2, huh? It took you and Tro a couple of hours to calm me down, remember? With Kat out front, holding off the cops? And how about Heero's big meltdown, back in Madrid? We almost had press coverage for that one. You got it so easy, buddy!" He pulled a fresh tissue from the pack and handed it to him. "Come on now, spill it."  
  
"I should go back to my seat," Wufei mumbled, wishing to god his eyes would stop leaking. It was such a nasty sensation in zero gravity.   
  
"Not yet," said Duo, and those arms stayed locked around him. He was too exhausted to fight anymore.  
  
"So, you're in love with him?" asked Heero.  
  
"I don't know!" It was the truth. "We weren't around each other that long, a couple of months almost, but--"  
  
"But you felt something for him," Duo finished for him.  
  
Another shameful little whimper escaped. God, yes, the man had made him feel!  
  
"What does he feel for you?" Heero asked.   
  
"I--I'm not sure. I thought, toward the end--" He shivered and shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. I can't-Une said-s-"  
  
"Yeah, Sally told us all about that," Duo said, frowning. "She says it was all bullshit, that Relena leaned on Une to lean on you."  
  
"No. I was in violation of the codes. I can't contest that."  
  
"Yet she'll only press it if you don't stay away from her big brother. How serious do you really think those charges could be, under those circumstances. That's not what this is about, Wufei."  
  
"What are you talking about? What else could there be?" Wufei demanded.   
  
"Relena is uncomfortable with her brother's sexual orientation," Heero said.   
  
"So? That doesn't change what I did."  
  
"Sally told us about his little night jaunts down to Le Fleur, too," said Duo. "Relena knew about those and didn't do anything. The odd anonymous fuck here and there, that was OK."   
  
Wufei cringed at the crudeness of the statement, knowing how apt it was.   
  
"No, it wasn't until it started to look like maybe he was interested in something a little more tangible with you that she stepped in, right?"  
  
"There was nothing--tangible between us!"   
  
"Uh huh. And Heero's shaving my head as soon as we land. Sally told us about the pictures, and the kissing. Relena may be a tight ass, but she knows that dinner, dancing and a little tongue wrestling with someone like you is more than just some passing thing."  
  
"I don't even know that!" Wufei objected, but deep down in his gut, he knew that even if Zechs had just been playing with him, fighting off the boredom, it had meant more than that to him. What had it meant to Zechs? The realization that he might never know the answer to that brought on more tears.   
  
"Easy, Wu, take it easy," Duo soothed, stroking his hair. "Man, you really do have it bad for him, don't you?"   
  
Losing the battle against a renewed crying jag, Wufei heard himself blurt out, "Yes!"  
  
"OK, then. That's a start. Now we've just got to find out how he feels, right?"  
  
"I can't!"  
  
"Not right this second, maybe, but you're not alone with this. Not anymore. We'll figure something out. Don't worry, OK?"  
  
When he finally calmed down again they released him and went back to their seats at the front. Wufei curled back into his own with the remaining tissues clenched in his fist. Too wiped out to even feel embarrassment anymore, he stared out the window, counting off stations and satellite landmarks until they hit the atmosphere and cruised down to land on the nightside of Earth. He clung to his own exhaustion, letting it keep him numb enough to get through the launch port and the long cab ride into the city.   
  
It was colder here than it had been in Sanque, and the air held a dankness that chilled him to the bone. He was almost sorry when the others kept their distance in the cab, letting him have his dignity.   
  
They passed from the suburban sprawl through urban decay and then seemingly back in time to a district of old fashioned houses, narrow streets and shadowy open parks, where the house Winner had purchased for Barton was. It was built Chinese style, around an inner courtyard. Lights glowed warmly from the interior windows, but it was only eleven o'clock local time and the others were still at work at the circus.   
  
They came in through a large kitchen and found a note from Winner on the table, welcoming him and directing him to use one of the guest bedrooms on the upper level. Heero insisted that he eat first, and made him sit with Duo at the wooden table while he heated something up in the microwave. Wufei hadn't had any appetite in days, but knew it was futile to argue. Duo opened cold beers for them while they waited for the food and Wufei gulped his down, hoping he could get back to sleep again as soon as possible and end this awful day.  
  
He picked half-heartedly at the brown stew Duo called gumbo, then found a little more appetite for a small bowl of chilled rice pudding. He ate enough to satisfy them, anyway, and they finally let him retreat to his room in peace.  
  
His bedroom was a few doors down from the large one that the other four shared. He took that fact in dully, unable to muster so much as a raised eyebrow. His own room was small and blessedly private. The heavy old-fashioned wooden furnishings and dark paper suited his mood. Bidding the others a last, firm good night, he changed into his nightclothes and sat by the window for a while, watching the fog curl under the streetlamps above the wet shine of the street.   
  
"The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the windowpanes," he murmured, wishing he could remember the rest of the stanza. T.S. Eliot, again. Odd, how he always seemed to come back to the first poet Zech's had shared with him. But then, Eliot was such a good choice so much of the time these days.  
  
'Something about the fog rubbing its muzzle against the windows,' he thought, wondering as he always did if Eliot had meant to invoke the image of a dog's muzzle, or the barrel of a gun. Probably the former. "Licks its tongue in the corners of the evening," he whispered aloud, clasping the jade pendant between his fingers. "Lingers upon the pools that stand in drains . . ." Damn, the rest was gone. Perhaps he could find a copy tomorrow.   
  
But no, he thought, swallowing hard. Perhaps he should not think too much about Eliot, or Marvel or Shakespeare. Perhaps he should give up western poetry for good, because no matter what verse he conjured from memory, sooner or later he heard that voice, that low, husky, often amused voice whispering the words to his soul.  
  
Instead, he opened the small bag he'd brought and took out the Tao Te Ching. He thumbed through it at random, reading by the streetlamp's glow, but even there he couldn't escape Zechs.   
  
_  
Human beings are  
soft and supple when alive,  
stiff and straight when dead.   
  
/A hand on his hip, warm breath close to his ear. 'See, you're alive after all!'/_  
  
His breath caught in his throat, but he forced himself to read on.  
_  
The myriad creatures, the grasses and trees are  
soft and fragile when alive,  
dry and withered when dead.  
  
Therefore it is said:  
The rigid person is a disciple of death;  
The soft, supple, and delicate are lovers of life._  
  
'Soft, supple and delicate.' He closed the book, certain that Lao Tzu had not intended his wise words to heat a young man's flesh like this.   
  
Soft, supple.   
  
Delicate.  
_  
/Little Chang./  
  
/I would never treat someone as fine as you that way. I would give you nothing but my best./_  
  
He shivered as the arousal he'd woken with on the shuttle came back full force, demanding attention.   
  
Aching, depressed, resigned, he climbed in between the cold, unfamiliar sheets with an absorbent undershirt, bit his thumb as he brought himself silently to climax, and wept himself softly to sleep.


	54. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei was up before anyone else the following morning. His sleep cycle was badly disrupted. The clock by his bed said 5:30 a.m., but his body was still on L-4 time. He showered in the small bath adjoining his room, then stood over the bag the others had packed for him, pondering what to wear. He was still very depressed and disoriented. It was tempting to simply crawl back in bed and let the day pass. Too tempting. But the thought of what the other four would think made him get up and try to get himself under control. He showered in the small, old-fashioned bath adjoining his room and pulled on the loose pants and tank Heero had thoughtfully packed. He could not face putting on those jeans again, not yet.  
  
His room had two doors, one letting onto the interior corridor he'd come in through last night, the other, bracketed between to tall windows, led onto the balcony that ringed the second level above the courtyard. He stepped outside and leaned on the ornate black wrought iron railing. There was room in the small courtyard to do his katas. Heero and Duo had not packed his practice weapons or swords, but he could still do the other Wu-Yi disciplines; if nothing else, it would give him something to focus on beyond his own misery. It was still damp and cool, but he could see patches of blue breaking through the clouds overhead. He supposed it never got very cold here, even in the winter.  
  
As he walked along the balcony to the stairs leading down to the garden, he passed the master bedroom. The curtains of one window were drawn, but it didn't keep him from suddenly imagining what it must look like, too many bodies in one large bed. He walked on quickly. It was none of his business how they chose to live.   
  
He pushed such thoughts away, concentrating instead on the lush tropical greenery and winter flowering vines that ringed the little brick paved courtyard. It was pleasant here. The gentle tinkling of bamboo chimes and the trickling splash of the fountain were soothing. He sat on a stone bench under a tall palm for a while to meditate and the sounds carried him away from his own unhappiness for a little while, leaving him more peaceful afterwards. He opened his eyes and looked around again, then pressed his hands together in front of his heart and murmured a thanks. He wasn't certain who he was thanking--Yuy and Maxwell, for dragging him here. Winner and Barton for welcoming him into their home. The garden, for its peace. All of that, he supposed. Gratitude was good. It was healing.   
  
It didn't involve poetry.  
  
He pushed himself through his exercises, working out the stiffness and poor form his binge of self-pity and sloth had left him with. His body responded well, though. Perhaps it was the place. By the time he finished, he felt a little better about life in general, so long as he didn't try to look ahead more than an hour at a time.   
  
"The garden suits you."  
  
He looked up to find Winner smiling at him from the balcony. Winner waved, and then came lightly down the stairs, barefoot and dressed in worn jeans and an oversized black tee shirt with the Circus della Notte logo printed on it in silver. Wufei felt a twinge of guilt, seeing it. He also had a strange echo of what he'd felt seeing Heero and Duo yesterday morning. Apart from a few brilliant blue streaks in his hair and the silver polish on his toenails, Winner wasn't wearing any make-up. He looked like 04 again, just a little taller and older. All the same innocent good nature shone in those big blue eyes, and happiness, too.   
  
Wufei tried to bow, but Winner got in under his guard and hugged him instead. Wufei allowed it, then stepped back and found himself staring down at Winner's silver toenails, unable to look him in the eye.   
  
"I'm so glad you're here," Winner told him. "You're always welcome in our home."  
  
Wufei bowed and looked up at him. Winner looked so genuinely glad to see him, and was giving him that typical sweet, open smile. Guilt rushed back in, eroding the fragile calm he'd had. "I never answered your emails. I'm very sorry. I'm sorry about a lot of things. Winner, err, Winner-Barton. Or is it Barton, now? I don't know how such things work."  
  
"I'm still Quatre. Can't you just call me that?"  
  
Wufei nodded. "I'll try. And I am sorry, Quatre."  
  
Quatre touched the palm of his hand to the center of Wufei's chest and shook his head sadly at what he found there. "I'm glad you're here now. We all are. Come see the rest of the house, then I'll make us some breakfast."  
  
He slipped an arm around Wufei's shoulders as he guided him in through the kitchen, and to Wufei's surprise, he didn't really mind.  
  
+  
  
Zechs stared into his dressing room mirror as his valet helped him into the expensive gray Italian suit jacket and straightened the empty sleeve. "Well, Tomas, how do I look?"  
  
"Regal, your highness, and very stylish, too. You put me in mind of your father as a young man."  
  
Zechs wished he remembered his father better. He wished a lot of things had been different. All the same, he did look every inch a Peacecraft, even in a designer suit rather than the old imperial dress uniform. "Hair back, I think."   
  
Tomas pulled the shoulder length blond hair back into a military queue at the back of Zechs neck and secured it with a black silk ribbon.   
  
"Yes, that's better. Let them see more of Milliardo, and less of Zechs. And you won't need to help me with that much longer, Tomas. My new arm will be ready in two days."  
  
"That's excellent news, sir!"   
  
Zechs still felt rather guilty at the way he'd treated the man. He'd find a way to replay his loyalty. "Every thing is arranged as I asked?"  
  
"Yes, highness."  
  
In the bedroom beyond, they heard Relena's cheery hello. "Milliardo, are you ready yet? the press conference starts in half an hour."   
  
"That will be all for now. Go and get some rest," said Zechs. Tomas bowed and started for the servant's exit. "Tomas?"  
  
"Your highness?" Pale, thin, attentive, forgettable. The perfect servant.  
  
"Thank you, Tomas, for everything."  
  
Tomas gave him a surprised look. "It is my great pleasure to serve you, your highness. Good luck with the press, sir."  
  
Zechs stepped out into the bedroom to find Relena waiting, looking very mature and attractive in her navy blue suit and brimmed hat. "Well, aren't you a picture today."  
  
"And you!" She walked around him, admiring the suit. "Oh, that was a good choice. You're so handsome!"  
  
Zechs smiled. "Have I told you how much I appreciate all you've tried to do for me?"  
  
"Oh, I suppose you must have mentioned it," she said, fussing over his lapels. Her mind was clearly on the press conference.  
  
"Well, consider this a formal thank you, little sister. You really have been amazing."  
  
"You're my brother, Milliardo. How could I not do everything I could for you?"  
  
"Of course. But I just wanted that understood between us." He sighed and tilted her chin up, gazing into those wide, intelligent blue eyes. "We really are more alike than I ever would have guessed."  
  
"Well, I'll take that as a compliment. I always did think we looked alike."  
  
"It's more than skin deep, Relena. Under different circumstances, you would have made one hell of a general."   
  
"Don't be silly!"  
  
"Before we go, I must ask you something. Have a seat, would you?"   
  
Relena sat down in the chair by the bed. Zechs went to his small roll top desk and leaned back against it. "Relena, is there something you want to tell me about Chang Wufei?"  
  
"Chang? Good heavens, Milliardo! Why bring that up now? He left. Come, you still have to see the make-up people." She rose to go.  
  
"Not yet."   
  
"What on earth's gotten into you? Why would I care where Chang is?"  
  
"I thought he was your friend, like Heero Yuy."  
  
"They helped me during the war, it's true. And they worked for me, but I'd hardly call them friends."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," Zechs murmured. "They were ready to give their lives for you and all you represented. I believe you were even in love with Yuy for a time. I should think they both deserved more regard than that."  
  
"That was a long time ago, Milliardo. People change."  
  
"They do, don't they? So you have nothing else to say about Chang's departure?"  
  
"No. Can we please--"  
  
Zechs reached behind him into the desk and tossed the manila envelop of surveillance photos into her lap. "As I said, Relena, we're more alike than you think."  
  
Relena spared the photos a distasteful glance. "So, he contacted you."  
  
"Tsk, tsk. You don't give me much credit. I was rather brilliant at intelligence in the wars. Or did you think it was all shooting and killing? Neither he nor Sally has had any contact with me."  
  
"It was for your own good."  
  
"Ah, but that's where we really differ, isn't it? I'm a far better liar than you, little sister. I know there are more photos of me in Une's possession. Very juicy ones. You might even say you caught me with my pants down. That was very clever of you, Relena. I'm really off my game, I guess. I didn't even suspect. But what interests me most is the ones you chose to use, to act on. You knew I wouldn't leave Wufei in the back room of a Le Fleur sex club, didn't you? You knew him far better than I did, and you knew he wasn't that kind of boy. Did you know he'd swing that way, because he certainly didn't."  
  
"Not until he kissed you," Relena retorted, tossing the photos onto the bed. "He betrayed me! I thought you would be safe with him!"  
  
"No, Relena, I betrayed him, and so did you." He took the copy of the Preventer disciplinary report from the desk and confronted her with it. "You were willing to ruin his career, ruin his damn life, and Sally's, because I seduced him?"  
  
"You weren't yourself! You aren't--"  
  
"Oh, but I am," Zechs told her, letting the anger show through now. "You think you know me? We hardly saw one another before the war and after that I was in a coma! Somewhere in there I became some sort of plaster saint in your mind. Or a chess pawn, perhaps? You do play so well. Well, let me introduce you to the real Milliardo Peacecraft.   
  
"I sucked my first dick when I was eleven years old, and I loved it. I was something of a legend at the Academy, and not just for my grades or piloting ability, believe me. I'd have bent over for Treize Kushreneda in a heartbeat if he'd wanted me to. I spent years trying to convince him that he did. Aside from that, while you were having tea parties and worrying about which dress to wear, I was breaking bones and rupturing my spleen, learning how to pilot a suit, duel with a saber, and kill a man with my bare hands. I bloodied myself to the elbows, to protect you from having to see the world I saw. And yes, through all that, I was brave and charming and tormented and oh, so very romantic. At least that's what all the men I fucked around with told me while they were under me or in---"  
  
"Stop it!" Relena cried, pressing her hands to her ears.   
  
Zechs pulled her hand away and held her by wrist, pulling her to her feet. She cowered before him but he did not relent. "No, for once you're going to listen. I've been trying to make you see that since I regained consciousness. But you just don't listen! I've never made any secret about what I am. I'm a used up, disillusioned, crippled, bitter, queer ex-soldier. Those little jaunts to Le Fleur? That's what your dear brother needed, to make it worth being alive. That's what this pretty cage you stuck me in reduced me to. You might have meant well, but your strategy was flawed from the start. Make a man like me feel like a prisoner, Relena, and I will always fight back."  
  
He released her and she fell back into the chair. She was trembling and pale, but that stubborn glint in her eye was still there. The Peacecraft in her, he thought with grudging admiration.   
  
"Well, I'm done wearing a mask. Never again, Relena, not for anyone. Not for you. Not for Sanque. I'll leave that to you! And now that I have your full attention for once, I have a choice for you to make."  
  
"Really? What is it? Are you going to kill me?"  
  
"No, my killing days are over. I learned a great deal more than that, all these years as Zechs. So here's the deal. I want all charges against Chang and Po dropped immediately. I want their jackets cleared and all reports, files and photos destroyed. None of this ever happened, officially or unofficially."  
  
"I see. And if I refuse?"  
  
"I have two speeches I can give out there, Relena." He checked the clock and smiled. "Hmm. Just eleven minutes to go before air time, and I have it on good authority that some of the journalists I invited are already in place, in among your carefully chosen pack of lapdogs out there. My men are old hands at dirty tricks and dirty laundry, Relena. And some helpful soul has already tossed a little chum in the water for the sharks."  
  
"What could you possibly tell them about me that would cause a scandal?" Relena laughed.   
  
"Aside from what you tried to do to Chang, you mean?"  
  
"He did accept gifts."  
  
"He didn't know."  
  
"And he did forget to arrange backup. And he did make improper advances toward a man under Preventer protection."  
  
"I'll be more than happy to testify on his behalf. Should make for some interesting headlines, don't you think? But you misjudge me. I wasn't threatening to expose you."  
  
"Really, then what?"  
  
"That's another way we differ, sister dear. You were prepared to throw poor Wufei to the wolves. I will only throw myself. You're groomed for politics, Relena, but I was trained as an officer. A good officer never asks more of his men that he would do himself. Your friend Yuy understood that perfectly, even though he and the others were only children, and glorified foot soldiers. They are honorable young men, every one of them. You shouldn't have fucked with them, Relena. They understand loyalty and I suspect that if I push your little machination into the limelight, they'll close ranks with Wufei. What will that do for your popularity? How will it help Sanque, to have you revealed as the sort of 'pacifist' who would destroy a fine, dedicated young man like Chang Wufei to save yourself the embarrassment of having your brother fall in love with him?"  
  
"In love with him?" Relena sneered. "You hardly know him!"  
  
"That's my concern. What will it be, Relena? Are you going to pick up that phone and call off Une and her hounds, in which case I will go out there and make you very proud. Or am I going to drag my Peacecraft name into some very nasty, very sticky mud?"  
  
Relena glared at him, then a smile slowly stole back to her lips. "You would do that, undo every good thing I've tried to accomplish for you."  
  
"For you, Relena. Not me."  
  
"But this all comes down to your word against mine, doesn't it? I already have Chang dealt with. He went rather quietly, you know. I'm not sure how deep the devotion runs there, Milliardo. I'm not sure he's worth what you're risking. I have your psychological profiles, you know, from before the war, and since. It's not really a pretty picture."  
  
"You're going to challenge my competency?"  
  
"It wouldn't be difficult, you know. Not that I want to do such a thing to you, of course! But it is my word against yours, isn't it? Who do you suppose they'll listen to?"  
  
"Oh, I dunno," said a new voice, one that made Relena go pale and whip around in her chair. "I think they might listen to me and my boyfriend here, if we back your brother up."  
  
"Duo! Heero!"  
  
The pair emerged from the dressing room and waved at her. Dressed in stylish black clothing and black leather jackets, they could have passed equally as bodyguards or film stars. Or assassins. Heero leaned on the wall by the doorway, eyes deadly calm and tracking her like a predator's. Duo sauntered over and gave her a disarming smile. "Hey, 'lena! It's me, your favorite painted slut. Long time no see."  
  
Relena saw past the smile to the anger burning in those violet eyes. "I'll have you arrested! This is private property and you're trespassing!"  
  
"That's not a very nice hello! Besides, we were invited." Duo flopped down on the bed and pouted at her. " After we flew all night, too. Back me up here, Merquise."  
  
"It's true. They're here as my guests," Zechs informed her. "And before you go jumping to conclusions, Chang had nothing to do with this, either. He has no idea they're here. Right boys?"  
  
"Affirmative," Heero said with a curt nod, still glaring at Relena. "Sally does not know, either. You're brother contacted us personally through channels of his own, last night. Wufei and Sally will pass any polygraph test."  
  
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.  
  
"Zechs thought it would make a nice photo op, y'know?" Duo said, grinning again. "Peace time reunion, former enemies shaking hands and making nice, that kinda thing. He said to meet him here. How were we to know we were gonna walk in on a family spat by mistake?"   
  
Relena looked from them to Zechs, and her shoulders sagged. It almost made Zechs feel sorry for her. She had so much to learn, if she was going to lead the free world.   
  
"Very well. I'll do as you ask. All of it. Is that all?"  
  
"Not quite. There's one more thing, which has nothing to do with Chang. It's non negotiable."  
  
Relena shook her head. "Quickly. The reporters are waiting."  
  
+  
  
Quatre showed Wufei the various parlors, the exercise room and the workshop. Wufei paused over the tables, admiring the masks and costumes Quatre and Maxwell were working on. The walls were already covered in photos of the different performers in costume, including a poster of Trowa in a very sinister looking black outfit, holding a coiled bullwhip and looking positively evil. Sensuous, but evil.   
  
Quatre chuckled, seeing his expression. "You really have to come see the show. How about tonight?"  
  
Wufei gave him a doubtful nod. He owed them that much, of course, but he wasn't sure he was going to enjoy it.  
  
Trowa wandered in to join them, still shirtless and looking very sleepy, despite the mug of coffee he was holding. "Morning, 'fei. Good to see you." The black band around his bicep flexed impressively as he shook hands with him. The greeting was not as warm as Quatre's had been. His bangs were over his face, messier than usual, and the one green that showed was hard to read.   
  
Wufei bowed to him, too. "I'm sorry for the way I've treated you both, and for not coming to see your show sooner."  
  
The green eye widened appreciably, but he just shrugged and shoved his free hand in his pocket. "The past is in the past. I came down to tell you that there's an interview with Milliardo Peacecraft on CNN in few minutes, if you're interested."  
  
Wufei had trouble breathing for a moment, and he could feel his face going red. Of course they knew. Everyone knew! Empathetic as ever, Quatre touched his arm, then led him upstairs to one of the parlors.   
  
"Where are the others?"  
  
"Still out." Quatre and Trowa settled on an overstuffed velvet sofa. Wufei moved to one of the armchairs, but Quatre shook his head and patted the seat beside him.  
  
Wufei settled stiffly next to him, keeping his attention on the screen of the large television.   
  
The newscasters finished up with reports on L-2 fiscal corruption and food shortages in the Sahara, then the scene switched to an all too familiar scene.  
  
This wasn't the usual light society piece, but a press conference. A podium had been set up in the garden outside the north wing, in front of a small audience of reporters and cameramen. Wufei caught a glimpse of the gazebo in the background, bathed now in late afternoon light. He was surprised at how much it hurt to see that place from such a distance. He hadn't considered it home, but it still hurt, knowing he'd been cast out. Actually, it was far more painful than he could have anticipated. He did his best not to show it, but was suddenly aware of the others glancing at him.   
  
Quatre patted him on the knee. "It's going to be OK, Wufei."  
  
Wufei pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around his knees. He didn't see how.  
  
The shot cut to a close up of one of the senior commentators. "Hello, I'm Max Hartley, speaking to you live from the Peacecraft country estate near Le Fleur, in the Sanque Kingdom. In a few moments Ambassador Relena Peacecraft will introduce her elder brother, Milliardo Peacecraft, better known to some as Zechs Merquise. This is his first public statement since the end of the war. In what is being called by some a 'resurrection by media,' the elder Peacecraft will today seek to clarify who he is and what he stands for. Sanque government officials have heavily vetted the questions, but it is hoped that some sense of the man himself will begin to emerge, after so many years of subterfuge and political confusion. Security is heavy here. In the past twenty-four hours Peacecraft liaisons have intercepted one hundred and eighty nine threats against Mr. Peacecraft's life. These threats come from a remarkable variety of people. Once an Alliance officer, Peacecraft went against the pacifist beliefs of his family, ostensibly to 'fight from the inside' for his country's freedom. As an OZ Elite and close confident of the late Treize Kushreneda, he turned against the Alliance, only to turn on OZ in favor of colonial independence, in the end align himself with the terrorist group, White Fang. His motivations have remained unclear, as closely guarded as his masked identity once was. Now it would seem that Relena Peacecraft, surely the most revered and respected figure of our time, seeks to redeem him in the eyes of the world as another victim of confusing times. To what end? That remains unclear, but it is speculated that she wishes to see Milliardo Peacecraft reclaim his place in Sanque, and in the world."  
  
"Try not dropping any more space stations on us, for a start," Trowa muttered. Quatre nudged his knee and Trowa shot Wufei an apologetic glance. "Sorry, but I still have nightmares about that."  
  
"So do I," Wufei murmured, but that's not what he was frowning about. Nearly two hundred threats in twenty-four hours? He shuddered, thinking how carelessly they'd traveled around.   
  
"The more of a public figure he tries to be, the more trouble he'll attract," Quatre said, perhaps picking up on his thoughts. "Until Relena started making an issue of him, you didn't hear much about him."  
  
A scattering of applause brought their attention back to the screen. Relena walked to the podium, dressed in a dark blue suit and hat. She looked as calm and perfect as always, Wufei thought bitterly. That must come from getting what you wanted.  
  
"Thank you all for coming. I can't tell you what it means to me, to be able to present my brother to you today. The war was a confusing time for all of us, but none more than those who tried so hard to set things right. My brother was among those people, and in the end he was willing to sacrifice his life to make amends for his misguided struggle. I hope you will listen with an open mind today, and try to see him as I do. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Milliardo Peacecraft, prince regent of Sanque."  
  
"Prince regent?" Trowa asked.  
  
"Sanque is still a constitutional monarchy," Quatre told him. "Technically, Zechs is the rightful heir to the throne, if he decides to claim it."  
  
Zechs stepped to the microphone and gave his sister a small bow. Wufei caught his breath softly, hoping the others weren't looking at him.  
  
Zechs had on a gray suit and a collarless white shirt. The tone was somber, but the cut very stylish and casual. He looked very dashing, and the empty sleeve fluttering in the breeze at his side took nothing away from that. His hair was pulled back at his neck, but the long blond bangs hung over his eyes as they always had, intensifying the incredible blue and the earnestness of his gaze. Whether it was the camera or some skillful makeup, the lighter tone of the regenerated skin did not show. He looked almost exactly as he had three years ago, handsome, youthful, and slightly disdainful as he gazed around at the crowd.   
  
"Damn!" Trowa murmured, and Wufei heard an appreciative little growl from Quatre, too. Wufei felt himself blushing again, though no one was looking at him now.  
  
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Zechs said, giving the crowd on of those regal little nods. "I hope you can all hear me. My voice was damaged and I'm afraid this is the best I can do for you."  
  
Wufei couldn't suppress a small shiver at the sound of that voice. The heartache began to seep back in; this had been a mistake. He shouldn't be watching this, not knowing how the man felt about him, if he even spared him a thought anymore. But he stayed where he was, unable to look away.  
  
"I have a brief statement prepared, after which I will be happy to answer any questions you might have. I wish to begin by apologizing formally for the events leading up to the Libra crisis. I was not in my right mind, those last few months of the war, but that excuses nothing. I don't blame anyone who feels I was not adequately punished for my actions at that time.   
  
"It's true I came to my senses at the last moment and did what I could to destroy the station fragment, but that would not have happened if it had not been for the honorable intervention of Heero Yuy and the other Gundam pilots. I applaud the world for forgiving and embracing those brave young warriors. Two of them were kind enough to be with me today. Ladies and gentlemen, Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell."  
  
The camera angle shifted to a shot of Heero and Duo sitting there among the reporters and dignitaries. Both were in black and Heero looked like--an assassin? He gave a tense nod, clearly not relishing the attention. Duo stood and waved, flashing a brilliant smile that got applause.   
  
"Their presence here today represents how far we have come. Together with my sister and her allies, they helped set the world on a path to peace. I wanted that, too. So did my friend, Treize Kushreneda." He paused, as if he were going to add another apology there. It was a significant pause, but instead, he said, "I stand before you today a broken man, but perhaps the same man I have always been. I believe in peace. I believe the ideals of the Sanque Kingdom are a worthy cornerstone for a lasting peace. I pray with all my heart for a future in which all people are free, regardless of their birth or race, religion or sexual orientation." The camera shifted back to Heero and Duo again, who were now holding hands. "If we are to have a true peace, then all people must be free to enjoy it. I fought for that ideal three years ago. I believe it just as strongly today."  
  
Applause broke out again and the camera cut briefly to Relena, who stood smiling a bit stiffly among her uniformed advisors and bodyguards.  
  
Zechs let the applause subside, the picture of self-effacing modesty now. "Thank you. I believe I am not out of step with the world, in that opinion. I am a student of history. I believe that the strong create the weak, and the weak resent them for it. That is the root of war. A very wise young man told me that he believed we are in fact, all weak." He paused and gave Heero a nod. "I wish I could share that belief, and the compassion that comes with it. I have tried, but I cannot."   
  
"I am a student of literature and poetry, as well, and have found far more wisdom and comfort there than in the study of politics. I would like to share a quote with you, from the writings of Lao Tzu. It's a verse a very dear and insightful friend shared with me during my recovery.   
  
Wufei leaned forward, with a gasp, hardly believing his ears.  
  
Quatre reached over and touched his knee, nodding.   
  
"It is the thirty third verse of the Tao Te Ching. Forgive the author for being, as I am, a product of his times, when he uses the image of a warrior. He was speaking of leadership, I think, and personal integrity, rather than war.   
  
" _A good warrior is not bellicose,  
A good fighter does not anger_."  
  
Wufei gripped the arm of the couch, scarcely believing what he'd just heard. Zechs recited the entire verse, using that persuasive voice to great effect.  
  
" _A good conqueror does not contest his enemy,  
One who is good at using others puts himself below them.   
This is called integrity without competition,   
This is called using others,   
This is called parity with heaven.   
The pinnacle of the ancients_."   
  
The crowd was very quiet when he finished. A split screen showed Relena looking very solemn.   
  
"These words may sound strange, perhaps even distasteful to your ears, but to me, they make perfect sense," Zechs told them. "That is why I must, in good conscience, place myself below any who think I should lead, and announce my formal abdication of the title, Prince of the Sanque Kingdom."  
  
Stunned silence greeted this.  
  
"That is not my only reason. My family and my name were taken from me when I was six years old, just as my sister's name was taken from her. She was raised to revere and preserve the values the Peacecraft name has come to symbolize to the world. I became Zechs Merquise, and the mask ultimately took on its own reality. I was Merquise far longer than I was ever Milliardo. At this point in my life, I think that I am neither. I don't know who I am, really. But I do know that I cannot in good conscience, seek any position of leadership in the Sanque Kingdom. As much as I admire the tenets of total pacifism, I have seen first hand too many events that taint my perspective. It takes a pure heart and a clear eye to practice that doctrine faithfully, and I, sadly, possess neither. I am humbled by those who do."  
  
He paused and smiled sadly. "That's really all I have to say. I'll take your questions now. And I urge you, in the spirit of our new free and peaceful society, to ask me whatever you wish."  
  
Quatre laughed aloud as the camera zoomed in on Relena's pinched little smile. "I don't think she realized who she was dealing with. Whatever he may say, he's still Zechs Merquise."  
  
The questions that followed took full advantage of that.  
  
"What name will you go by now, sir?"  
  
He shrugged eloquently. "What's in a name? But I've gotten rather attached to 'Zechs'. It's so much easier to say than 'Milliardo', don't you think?"  
  
"Sir, were you insane at the time of the Libra incident?"  
  
"Probably."  
  
"Next question," the moderator prompted hastily. "The gentleman in the back. I don't think I know--"  
  
"It's rumored that you were gay." This came from someone in the far back. The man's accent was thickly German.  
  
"I know that voice," Trowa muttered, squinting at the crowd. "It's that slime bag from Madrid, the tabloid guy!"  
  
"Were gay?" Zechs elegantly stressed the first word. "It's not the sort of thing one gives up, like a hobby."  
  
That got a laugh, and Quatre and Trowa saluted Zechs with their coffee mugs. Wufei pressed his hands to his mouth. It did not surprise him that Zechs would admit to it on global live television but he was impressed.   
  
"Then you admit it, Mr. Merquise?"  
  
Zechs gave the man a charming smile and laughed. "Certainly I admit it. It's not a crime."  
  
In the foreground a moderator was motioning frantically for a new question. Movement at the back of the crowd suggested that Meir was being asked to leave.  
  
"If you give up your title, sir, are you also giving up the protection from your government?" a woman in the front asked. "How do you feel about all those death threats?"  
  
Zechs sobered. "Which is better, in your opinion? A long life, or a full life?"  
  
"Both?"   
  
"That would be ideal, but this is not a perfect world. I'll live as fully as I can, as long as I can. Beyond that, I have little control. I can't change what I did, as much I might wish otherwise. I can't change how some people feel about the man I was. I can only hope to somehow make amends as the man I wish to become."  
  
"What will you do, sir? There isn't much call for suit pilots anymore."  
  
Zechs joined in the laughter this provoked. "A fact I'm very glad of. As hard as it might be for some of you to believe, back in my Academy days I was a bit of a bookworm, and a romantic, too. Ah, you laugh, but I was! This lengthy convalescence has had one advantage; I've finally had time for poetry again. That is my first great love, not war. For the first time in a very long time, I've had the leisure to expand my knowledge and learn a few new things. At the moment I'm reading the most splendid collection of Japanese verse. Amazing. So concise, yet full of meaning--I don't suppose you'd like to hear one? Get a little insight into this secret side of me while you have the chance?"  
  
An encouraging round of applause went up. "Very well. This is a current favorite of mine, discovered just few days ago. It's from a trio of verses by the poet Fujiwara.  
  
Fujiwara. Wufei held his breath, heart suddenly loud in his ears.  
  
Zechs's voice deepened, and his expression was suddenly pensive, even melancholy. He found the camera and looked at it. Wufei shivered, feeling as if those vivid blue eyes were looking straight at him.  
  
" _These long black tresses  
that I roughly pushed aside--   
Now strand upon strand   
they rise in my mind's eye   
each night as I lie down._  
  
"Oh!" Wufei murmured.   
  
"You recognize it?" Quatre asked softly.  
  
"Yes." The poem he'd left for Zechs was part of that same Fujiwara trio, and Zechs had said himself that he knew nothing of Japanese poetry. He'd found Wufei's message and he'd answered in kind. Wufei didn't realize he was crying until Trowa passed him a handkerchief.   
  
The reporters gave Zechs a polite smattering of applause, clearly unsure what to make of the love poem.   
  
Zechs just looked bemused. "You were expecting something more martial. Sorry to disappoint but that's not where my heart lies." He looked back into the camera again. "No, I think that's one of the most beautiful poems I've ever encountered, and one I am not likely to ever forget. Other questions?"  
  
Stunned, Wufei stared at the man on the screen, graciously fielding questions, without hearing a thing that was said.  
  
"It meant something, didn't it?" Trowa murmured.   
  
"I think it means there's hope for 05, after all," Quatre replied.


	55. Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Relena fled soon after the press conference ended, but not before turning over the name of her private investigator, and calling Une, in Zechs's presence, to drop the charges against Wufei. To her credit, Une had looked relieved and allowed Zechs, Yuy, and Maxwell to watch by vidphone as she destroyed the files and couriered the damning photos to him. a  
  
"I hope you're satisfied," Relena had snapped when it was all over. "You could have had everything: a name, a reputation, power to do good in the world. Now you've thrown it all away, and for what? Do you honestly think Chang will want to see you again?"  
  
"You just can't understand, can you?" Zechs said, walking her to the door. "Take care, little sister. If you stick to doing good in the world and not mucking around with people's private lives, I'm sure you'll do very well."  
  
He waved her off, and didn't expect to see her again any time soon.   
  
He went to the library with Yuy and Maxwell and watched while the pair did an impressive mop-up operation of their own. It was hard to credit all the reports about their troubles and breakdowns, seeing them like this now. The two worked with well-honed efficiency, speaking in rapid, muttering shorthand as they worked on their laptops. There was no sign of the mentally unbalanced Maxwell, or the confused Yuy he'd seen on CNN, or even the lovers people were still so abuzz about. No, what he was recognized here were two highly trained and very skilled agents at work.   
  
"You do know you're committing a felony?" Zechs asked as Yuy scrolled through the Preventer database, looking for backups of the case against Po and Chang. It wasn't a criticism, but an observation. He didn't trust Une, either.  
  
"So's contributing to the delinquency of a minor," Maxwell muttered, glancing up from his screen, where he was doing a background check on the servants Relena had hired here at the estate, cross matching them against known intelligence agents and government spies.   
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Duo," Yuy warned, glancing over at his partner.  
  
"Hey, he might as well know, if he doesn't already. You heard what he said to Relena. He seduced Wufei. Right, Merquise?" There was no mistaking the dislike in Maxwell's eyes. He'd put on a very convincing act for the reporters, but away from the cameras, it was obvious he'd just as happily shoot Zechs as look at him. "Wufei may be a genius, and one hell of a fighter, but he's still only seventeen."  
  
Zechs stared at him. "No! I've seen his file."  
  
"Bogus birthday. We all had them. Only Wufei's handlers shifted his a little more creatively than the rest of ours. Good thing for you Une's handing over all those juicy pictures, huh? Buying Wufei drinks. Taking him to sex clubs. Kissing him. Pretty smooth, Zechsy."   
  
Yuy called up a new screen on his computer and turned it so Zechs could read the top few lines of Wufei's medical records.  
  
It was true. "He'll be eighteen in a month."  
  
"But he's still only seventeen now," Maxwell insisted.   
  
"Which would not prevent him from killing you slowly and very painfully if he knew you were having this conversation, Duo," Yuy interjected.   
  
Maxwell leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his neck. "Probably. But we're having it anyway, aren't we, Zechs? You messed him up good. He's falling apart at the seams. I didn't think anything could to that to him. It's your fault and I want to know what you're going to do to fix it."  
  
"If he'll allow it, I hope to love him well enough to make up for my own selfish mistakes."  
  
Maxwell's eyes narrowed. "Oh, so now you _do_ love him?"  
  
"I think it quite possible."  
  
"Duo, this is between Zechs and Wufei. Don't interfere."  
  
Zechs fought back an amused grin. "Are you asking me to declare my intentions toward your friend, Maxwell?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess I am."  
  
"Fair enough. Yes, I was just playing with him, at first, out of spite against Relena, out of boredom, out of pure meanness. I meant everything I said about myself today. I'm not an especially good man. But I never imagined I'd get Chang Wufei into my bed; it was simply interesting to see how he reacted.   
  
"He's a remarkable young man, though. He showed me a strength and intelligence I never imagined he possessed and soon I found I enjoyed his company. He challenges me in ways I find both daunting and very enlivening. In short, despite my best efforts to remain an embittered bastard, I've ended up caring a great deal for him. He initiated the kiss you saw in those photos, by the way, so I believe he reciprocates my attraction to some extent. I have no idea what deeper feelings he might have for me. That is for Wufei and me to discuss. In private."  
  
"I agree." Yuy shot his partner another warning look.   
  
Zechs gave him a nod of thanks, but the look in those dark blue eyes froze him where he sat.   
  
"Wufei needs to see you," Yuy said quietly. "None of us has the right to interfere. But whether he likes it or not, we will take an interest in how you treat him. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes. Perhaps you could suggest some way for me to approach him?"  
  
"How about _not_ like some piece of tail for a quick screw," Maxwell growled.  
  
Zechs accepted the slam. They'd seen the pictures. "It seems I have three of you to prove myself to, rather than just Wufei."  
  
"Five," Yuy told him. "There are five of us."  
  
A vidphone call came in from Sally just then. He took it privately in his room. She was wearing a soft looking green sweater, rather than her uniform and looked both tired and relieved.  
  
"It's over, isn't it? I just got a call from Une. She wouldn't give me much in the way of details, but I saw your press conference today and assume I have you to thank?"   
  
Zechs gave her wink. "I did what I could."   
  
She grinned, knowing she had her answer. According to Tomas, she'd understood very quickly what the situation was when he'd shown up at her door. She'd given him all the details, to relay back to Zechs. After that, it had been relatively easy to leverage Une into breaking confidence. Une understood how the world worked far better than Relena, and knew a potentially career ending scandal when it was staring her in the face. Crippled or not, disgraced or not, the Lightning Count was still not one to cross.  
  
"Have you spoken with Wufei?" Sally asked.  
  
"Not yet. I hope he saw the press conference. His friends in New Orleans were going to tell him about it."  
  
Sally smiled. "That was very sneaky, and very romantic of you, spouting poetry and doubletalk like that. I'm guessing he'll know what you meant?"  
  
"I hope so." Zechs hadn't let himself think too much about that, once it was done. His primary objective had been to break Relena's hold on the boy and Sally, and free them of any taint having to do with him. The possibility that Wufei hadn't understood, or worse yet, wanted nothing more to do with him was too hard to face. He realized now he'd been putting off making contact. "Yuy and Maxwell are helping me make certain all the fires have been put out. I wanted to be sure you're both totally safe from any further prosecution or scandal."  
  
"He called me."  
  
"Ah." Zechs waited.   
  
"He wants very much to see you." She paused and stared him straight in the eye with a look not unlike the one Maxwell had been giving him. "Should he see you again, Zechs? Do you actually care for him?"  
  
"Very much, Po. More than I would have believed myself still capable of. I've just been trying to convince Maxwell of that."  
  
Sally snickered. "Take it as his blessing if he doesn't shoot you."  
  
"Yes, that's my impression."  
  
"Here's the phone number." Sally typed it onto the screen and he saved it. "Don't make him wait, please. Whether anything works out between the two of you or not, the uncertainty is killing him."  
  
Zechs gave her his assurance and signed off, then amended the total of Wufei's self-appointed guardians from four to five.   
  
He paused, gathering his courage, then dialed the number she'd given him. A handsome woman with a soft southern accent answered. "Barton-Winner residence. May I--" Her dark eyes widened as she took in to whom she was speaking.  
  
"I'd like to speak to Chang Wufei, please."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Peacecraft, but he and the other young gentlemen have gone out for the evening. I don't expect him back before one or two, our time."  
  
"I see. May I record a private message for him?"  
  
"Certainly, sir. Just wait for the prompt."   
  
The screen went blue, leaving him looking at his own reflection as he tried to find the right words.  
  
\+   
  
There had been no polite way for Wufei to fend off Quatre and Trowa's efforts to "keep his mind off things." Dressed in some surprisingly modest clothes lent to him by Quatre, he'd been dragged off to a local eatery for crawfish and some live music called zydeco. It was too loud and frenetic for his mood, but at least it spared him from having to make small talk. To their credit, Quatre and Trowa did not do anything embarrassing with each other, but he couldn't help noticing how often they casually touched each other or exchanged a look that seemed to speak without words.   
  
Hardly tasting the food in front of him, he thought how Zechs had looked into the camera as he recited that poem. Had that look, those words, really been meant for him? If so, why hadn't Wufei heard from him yet, even after Une called to say that the charges had been dropped and his file cleared?   
  
It had been difficult facing her, even by vid screen. No matter what anyone said, he felt he'd been guilty on all charges. He listened to her statement, and her apology, staring down at his hands on the table in front of the screen. When she was done, all he could think of to say was, "You have my resignation."  
  
"Are you sure about this, Wufei?"   
  
He met her gaze now. "Yes, I am very sure. Consider it effective immediately. Send me the paperwork."  
  
And that was that. He was officially unemployed. He probably should feel some emotion about that, but all he could think of was the look in Zechs's eyes as he'd spoken those words over the heads of those uncomprehending reporters.  
  
Why hadn't Zechs called?   
  
Should Wufei have called him?   
  
By the time it sank in that he was not longer barred from contacting Zechs, it was too late. He was in the middle of a backstage tour of Trowa's show and he didn't know the number at the estate, even if there had been a phone in sight. And just about then, the reporters spotted them.  
  
Wufei managed a few terse, empty answers, doing his best to sound like he actually wanted to be here, but had no idea afterwards what he'd actually said.   
  
"Sorry you have to sit alone tonight," Quatre was saying, when it was time for him and Trowa to go prepare for the show. "You could hang out back here with us, but I'd rather you saw it the right way, from out there."   
  
"I don't mind," Wufei assured him. It was a relief to be left alone. They meant well, he knew, but all he could think of right now was Zechs. By the time they were finished here, it would be morning in Sanque. Zechs was an early riser. He could call when he got back. But what would he say?  
  
The tent filled quickly as soon as the gates were officially open. He gazed around, seeing happy faces, filled with anticipation. There were no children, just couples or groups of people, many of them obviously lovers. Like Maxwell and the rest, they had no compunction about holding hands or putting their arms around one another in public.   
  
Could he ever do that? Wufei wasn't so sure. Yet he'd seen how easy Zechs was with complete strangers; he was a sensual man, with no inhibitions at all, it seemed.   
  
_/Why would someone like that want an emotional cripple like me?/_  
  
But Zechs had said he did, hadn't he, with the poem? He'd told the world he was gay, abdicated his title, as much as admitted that he couldn't believe in Sanque's version of pacifism; in short, he'd essentially told his sister and his country go to hell, albeit with tremendous elegance and charm. Why would a man like that want someone who cringed at the thought of even holding his hand in public?  
  
_/And what about the rest of it?/_ that nasty little inner voice nagged, flashing up a memory of Zechs fucking a stranger in that backroom. _/'Why do you think they called me the Lightning Count?'/_  
  
No, Chang Wufei could not be like those other young men.   
  
_/I would never treat someone as fine as you that way./_  
  
How he wanted to believe those words! Wufei hugged himself miserably, caught between hope and a rising fear. What did it mean, that Chang Wufei, 05, ex-terrorist, went to pieces, just thinking of a man whispering those words to him? The person he'd thought he was should have been ready to do murder over such implications. Yet he could no longer muster any anger. Instead, he sat here in this sea of strangers, hoping desperately that those sitting closest to him would not recognize him, or notice how the famous Gundam pilot blushed and fretted.   
  
At last, mercifully, the lights went down and the show began. He'd paid so little attention to it on the news that he was not prepared for the dark onslaught of the opening act. There was Trowa, a person he'd thought he known, in that sinister costume, singing and contorting himself like some horrifying sexual demon. Wufei was shocked at the sexuality, the nudity, and even more so when he recognized Quatre, masked and painted, as the nearly naked creature stroking Trowa's cock through his pants. How could they do that, with the whole world knowing who they were and what they'd been?   
  
He sat there, stunned, as the frightening music crashed to a close and the rest of the audience surged to their feet, applauding and cheering wildly.   
  
The acts that followed were almost a relief. He didn't recognize the other two among the painted performers. And he had to admit, now that the shock was passing, that the acts were innovative and brilliant, if often lewd. The dark, sexual tone overlaid everything, from the acts to the stage itself. Trowa and Quatre had created this. It brought home to him again how little he actually knew of them. That made him sad.   
  
He allowed himself to be drawn in, and it was a new shock when he recognized Trowa again at the start of the act called "Passage." Duo had said something about this one, that he should be prepared for old memories to resurface. He saw now what he'd meant. It was like watching the five of them up there together, reliving what it had been to fight those battles, fly those machines. Trowa's thin body became at once a Gundam, and a manifestation of the pilot's soul. It was a dark vision, and Wufei found himself badly unsettled by the sight of Trowa hanging broken by one leg at the end. It surprised him, this intensity of emotion. They hadn't been close during the war. They weren't now, in reality, yet the sight of that limp body dangling there was almost too much to bear. Then it occurred to him that he'd been seeing Treize up there, too.   
  
Wufei closed his eyes, fighting back tears as the old pain returned full force. Just when he thought he could not bear it however, the music changed, and the light. The black banners fell away, leaving white and gold in their wake. The broken figure was gently lowered and buried in the blood red silk, only to be revealed again, lying nearly naked under the care of a small, golden figure. It was Quatre, he knew, but even that did not explain the wave of empathy that overwhelmed him now.  
  
Compassion radiated from 04, even with his face covered by that strange mask. Wufei's throat tightened as the flute and violin duet caught that emotion and magnified it. A single touch from Quatre brought Trowa alive again and into the shelter of his arms. What followed was an act of love as much as skilled acrobatics. He heard people, grown men even, weeping at the sight of those two masked forms expressing love and unity and healing in every graceful, impossible move. Wufei marveled again at how they could to this in front of a crowd so easily, this mingling of limbs that was at once erotic and so innocent, so heartfelt. Wufei wanted to cover his face but he could not look away. It didn't matter. Everyone else was crying, too. By the time the lights faded on that final tableau of the embrace, Wufei felt utterly drained.   
  
The lights went out, and then came back up again as the cast massed on stage. Trowa reappeared as the sinister ringmaster and made a final speech.   
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, gentlemen and ladies, we thank you for sharing this piece of the night with us, here in New Orleans, this city of death and sex. I hope we touched you. I hope you felt what we felt: love and lust, life and death, nirvana and hell, but most of all, my little company and I hope you go away with the knowledge that life is fleeting, and often ugly, but for at least a little while longer, we are all still alive! So go wrap yourself around someone for what remains of this night. Drink with them. Fuck them. Laugh and share that life with them. After all, it's all we really have to give each other. And now-- I release you!"  
  
Caught in the wisdom of those closing words, Wufei scarcely noticed as Trowa cracked his whip and sent the nightmare creatures streaming down the aisle. He was still sitting there, lost in thought, when the others came to take him back to the house.  
  
+  
  
Marie, the woman who cooked for them, had left a light on in the kitchen, and there was note on the table. Quatre glanced at it, then smiled and handed it to Wufei.   
  
'There is a vid message for Captain Chang. Access code 031.'  
  
"My computer's in the parlor with the television," Trowa said, smiling slightly under his bangs.   
  
"Thank you." Wufei paused on his way to the stairs. Going back, he extended his hand to each of them. "Thank you both, for all you've done. You are good friends. And great artists, too. I-- I simply don't have words to say how your show made me feel. But your words at the end, Trowa? I will remember them."  
  
Quatre hugged him then, and Wufei was able to hug him back a little.   
  
"You should go take that message," Trowa said, putting an arm around Quatre. "When you're done, you can come sleep with us, if you'd like."  
  
Wufei blinked, unsure he'd heard him correctly.   
  
"Not like that!" Quatre said, elbowing Trowa even as he laughed. "When Heero and Duo are here, they sleep with us. It's just sleeping, nothing else. It's nice not to be alone. You're welcome to join us."  
  
Wufei felt himself blushing furiously. "No! Uh, that is, thank you for the kind offer, but---no. I should--that is. In the parlor, you say? Yes, well--thank you both, and good night."  
  
He retreated hastily upstairs, hoping he hadn't hurt their feelings. "Come sleep with us!" Just like that. It boggled the mind. And yet, deep down, how he envied them such freedom.   
  
He found the computer and keyed in the message code, heart pounding painfully in his chest.   
  
The message file opened to a still shot of Zechs, above the "play message" button. He was still wearing that handsome gray suit, his hair loose now and framing that incredible face. Wufei's hand trembled over the cursor. If Zechs were here with him right now, could he have heeded Trowa's parting admonition in that speech?   
  
Taking a deep breath, he moved the cursor over the "play" button and activated the message. The still shot came to life. Zechs was looking sidelong at the camera on his end.   
  
"Wufei, I hope you caught my press conference today. There was a message there for you. I think you'll figure it out. My message now is this: please come back to me. I need you." His expression was composed, as if he were uncomfortable being in front of the camera, but that husky voice resonated with emotion; the appeal in those proud, beautiful eyes was clear. "Don't respond to this message. I hate these machines, the distance it puts between people. Come back to me, little Chang, if that's what you want. If it isn't, let your absence speak for you."  
  
Wufei took a deep breath, feeling as if he were about to jump off a high cliff with no parachute and no net. He was a fool. This was insane. It would all end in disaster. He closed the message and dialed up a search engine, looking for the New Orleans shuttle port.


	56. Swimming Against the Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little pieSwimming Against the Tidece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

It was just past eleven p.m. when Tomas entered the library. He was alone.  
  
"No sign of him?"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, I checked every airline and shuttle company. It does not appear that Captain Chang booked a flight here today."  
  
Zechs sighed and closed his book. "Thank you. Check again tomorrow. And be certain I'm up before you leave. The doctor and prosthesis technicians will be here at nine."  
  
"Very good, sir."  
  
Zechs looked around the empty room and sighed again. Abandoning his books, he walked down to the den and switched on the television to catch the day's news. His announcement had made quite a splash. The various networks had replayed outtakes of it continually, particularly the clips in which he renounced his title and outted himself. It amused him that there were people outside Sanque that gave a shit what he did or who he screwed.   
  
The notoriety had put a crimp in the chances to do the latter. He could really use a warm body right now, but something beyond mere security concerns held him back. He turned the sound to a low murmur and lay back in the chair, idly stroking himself. It had been nearly two weeks since he and Wufei had taken that last ill-fated trip to Le Fleur. That was a long time for a man like him, a fucking eternity. Or rather, a fuckless eternity. His hand stroked harder over the growing hardness between his legs, recalling of what it had been like to have Wufei trembling against him as they'd kissed, the hard ridge of the boy's arousal pressed to Zech's thigh. A low groan escaped his lips even as he felt an aching emptiness growing in his heart.   
  
It wasn't only wanting to touch him again, to hold him and discover once and for all what that perfect china doll little body really wanted. He missed the conversation. He missed having a sparring opponent who could challenge him. The security guard who was filling in was far too deferential. Chang would never give in to him. Not on the practice floor.   
  
But in the bedroom?  
  
_/Come back to me, little Chang./_  
  
As if summoned, Wufei suddenly was before him on the television screen. He was being interviewed with Winner and Barton by some CNN woman, no doubt about the show. The background was dark but he could make out what appeared to be banks of black and silver seating, and the edge of a stage.   
  
Wufei was shown in profile at the moment, and Zechs saw with a guilty pang that he looked terrible. He was worn, too pale, and clearly not pleased at the attention he was drawing. The shot showed him from the chest up. He had on a dark green silk shirt, his hair pulled back in that severe braid again. Zechs fumbled for the control and adjusted the volume, but now Winner was saying something about being glad to have his friend there with him. Had Wufei decided to stay in New Orleans? Zechs's heart sank, seeing the way Wufei hung back now, staring down at his feet. He looked beaten, broken, the way he had right before he'd confessed his feelings with that first tear-stained kiss.  
  
The segment ended and he turned it off. Perhaps he'd overplayed his hand, after all.  
  
If it hadn't been for his early appointment the next day, he might have gone to Le Fleur anyway, and damn the risk.  
  
+  
  
Wufei felt like he was caught in a bad dream. It had been impossible to book a flight to Sanque until the evening following Zechs's message, and now he had far too much time on his hands to talk himself out of going at all. Duo and Heero still weren't back yet, and Trowa had to spend the day at the circus, refitting some equipment. Quatre picked up on his panic, of course, and insisted on staying home with him.   
  
They did their respective exercises together in a downstairs room converted to a gym. As he went through his katas, Wufei tried not to stare at Quatre at his yoga. Had he been that flexible during the war? At the moment he was lying on his shoulders, knees touching the floor behind his head. He seemed perfectly at ease in that pose, his own crotch practically in his face.   
  
If Quatre was naked, he could have. . .  
  
Wufei refused to finish that thought. Redoubling his own efforts, he critiqued his own form in the mirrors that lined the walls. Movement distracted him, however, and he looked over his reflection's shoulder in time to see Quatre stretch out on his back, plant hands and feet securely, and arch his body up in an inverted U, the bones of his pelvis and ribs standing out clearly through his bare skin and tight shorts. Wufei looked away again, but now in his mind's eye he was seeing Quatre and Trowa's supple bodies entwined on that stage, touching and sliding against each other's bare skin as if they were the only people in that darkened tent.   
  
Too distracted to continue with his workout, Wufei withdrew quietly and went out to sit in the garden. The sun was out again this afternoon, warm on his face and shoulders. He settled cross-legged on the worn brick paving at the foot of a towering palm and let his gaze settle on the sparkling cascade of the fountain. A few sparrows hopped around in the undergrowth and perched on the wrought iron table, seeking crumbs left over from lunch.   
  
He sought the inner stillness he'd found here yesterday, but could not escape the image of the other two writhing together. If they touched each other like that in public, with an audience, what must they do in private? The thought sent a mingled jolt of embarrassment and arousal through him, and he felt himself going hard under his loose workout pants. He tried to school his thoughts again, and instead found himself picturing Heero and Duo sleeping so peacefully together on his living room couch.  
  
Any doubts he still harbored regarding Sally's "G-factor" theory paled in comparison to the feelings he was having right now. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps homosexuality was something hardwired in his psyche that he'd simply successfully repressed until now. But if that were true, why did the thought of touching another man terrify him so? And if it did, then why didn't he simply take Zechs at his word and stay away? A few taps on a keyboard would cancel the flight to Sanque. He could return to L-4 in peace.  
  
And then what?   
  
He jumped slightly when Quatre sat down beside him and pulled his legs into the lotus position. He looked so at ease like that, legs crossed, feet resting on the tops of his thighs. The midday light glinted on the metallic silver nail polish and the gold ring though his nipple. That, and the tattoos on Quatre's shoulders and belly made him look wild, magical; like some strange little spirit dwelling in this sheltered place. He caught Wufei staring again and smiled. Wufei forced his gaze back to the fountain, but he could feel Quatre studying him.  
  
"Wufei?"  
  
"Hn."  
  
"I think we should talk."  
  
Wufei closed his eyes, hoping Quatre would take the hint and go away.  
  
"Are you sure you want Zechs?"   
  
Wufei's shoulders sagged. "I wish I knew. I want to see him again. I have to talk to him. But I don't know if--That is . . ." God, this was agonizing, and if this had been anyone else but sweet, gentle Quatre, he couldn't have pushed himself to stammer out, "How--how can you do it, you and Bart-- Trowa?"  
  
"Love each other?"  
  
Wufei shook his head. "No, the other. The physical." He couldn't go on. His heart felt like it was trying to climb right out of his chest through his throat.  
  
Quatre only chuckled. "Making love and loving him are the same thing."  
  
"Love," Wufei murmured.  
  
"It is love, with Trowa." Quatre rubbed at the sole of one foot. "You know I've fucked a lot of strangers, Wufei, just for the sex. The acts may be the same, but it's different when you love the person you're touching. Either way, though, whether you love them or just really need the sex, you have to listen to your heart. Deep down inside, you'll know what you want, if you really do want it. And there are _so_ many different ways--"  
  
"Thank you," Wufei said, hastily fending off a sex ed lecture. He wasn't ready for that.  
  
"How much do you actually know, about what men can do together?"  
  
Wufei kept his gaze on the fountain, a renewed spike of panic leaving him unwilling and unable to carry this topic any further.   
  
"Maybe you should call him, Wufei."  
  
He shook his head. The look on Zechs's face as he'd asked him not to wouldn't allow him to go against the request. Damn it! Why did the man have such a hold on him?  
  
"Quatre?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Could you, that is-- Could you read me? See what's in my heart, the way you do with the others?"  
  
"You want me to?  
  
Wufei hesitated, then nodded.   
  
Quatre didn't touch him, as he'd expected, just went very still for a moment, then let out a pained little gasp. "I'm sorry, Wufei. It's too strong. I can't be in your head right now. All I can tell you is that you have to let your heart guide you in this, and your body. I don't think you trust either very much, though."  
  
+  
  
Neither his heart not his body was giving Wufei any clear answers during the long, long flight from New Orleans to Paris that night. He could have rented a plane or a shuttle, but he didn't trust himself piloting in his current exhausted state of mind, and even if the others had been back to help him, he didn't think he could bear all those hours of having to keep up a front.   
  
Hunched by the window in coach class, dressed in the cheap clothes Duo had bought him on L-4, Foo Dogs cap pulled low over his face, he could ignore the concerned glances from the matronly woman in the seat next to him and wallow in his own misery to his heart's content.  
  
In Paris the plane touched down in the middle of a November storm. He watched with rising dismay as the departure boards filled up with "delayed" notices, which soon turned to "indefinite delay" as the heavy rains turned to sleet.   
  
Jet lagged, overwrought, and bone weary, he wandered the concourses all night, his little backpack dragging at his shoulder. The reflection that glanced back at him in shop windows looked like a sullen teen runaway. The gendarmes must have taken him for one, too, because he had to stop and show his ticket. He saw the man's eyebrow arch a bit as he saw the name, but it was clear from the dismissive look that followed that the man had decided that there must be more than one Chang Wufei in the world.  
  
He bought a stale croissant at a kiosk, then slumped in the hard seat at a departure gate, watching the sleet run down the windows. He should have gone home first, and packed a proper suitcase with decent clothes, rather than arriving like a refuge with the few odds and ends Heero had packed for him. Never mind that he owned nothing of the sort of clothing Zechs preferred to see him in.  
  
At one point he found himself standing at the end of the concourse leading to the shuttle port. It was still a simple matter to change his mind, go home, try to trick himself into believing he was the same person he'd been before he'd met Zechs Merquise. Before he knew anything of G-factors or gay clubs or what it felt like to have those long pale fingers stroke his neck, or a single strong arm tight around his waist. Such thoughts brought on a renewed rush of panic. He wanted to be the person he'd been, before Zechs Merquise had awakened that entirely unlooked for facet of himself. It would be so much easier to turn away, step back, and pretend that none of it had happened. That it didn't matter. That he didn't want it.   
  
_/How much do you actually know, about what men can do together?/_  
  
Just enough to be scared to death, he thought, disgusted with himself. The shuttle port beckoned.  
  
But morning found him among the crowd of angry, tired travelers at the gate for the flight to Sanque. When boarding finally began just after noon, his fears welled again, dark and keen. He forced himself down the gangway. He buckled himself in and refused to even look up from his clenched hands until the cabin was sealed and they were taxiing down the runway.   
  
Worn out by all the endlessly circling doubts, he dozed fitfully, then woke to stare out at the cloudscape below. He would rent a car at the airport. He would go to the estate and speak with Zechs. He owed him that much. After that, it was anybody's guess. But if he had a car he could escape if he needed to.   
  
He nibbled at the in-flight meal and passed on the headphones for whatever inane movie they were showing. Glancing at the screen now and then, however, he deduced that it was some romantic comedy in which a red-haired girl with a too-wide mouth pursued a hapless young Indian man though the usual mishaps and misdirection, until they inevitably ended up in each other's arms in the middle of a rain-washed street, kissing madly.   
  
Wufei slouched deeper into his seat and gazed out the window again. How could people watch such tripe? He'd never kissed Sally like that. His body had never told him that's what he wanted, even when they'd been in the middle of having sex.   
  
But one unwanted touch from Zechs and his entire body caught fire.  
  
Another moment of weakness, and he was kissing him on that windswept boardwalk, in full view of whatever cameraman had stalked them.  
  
/But what if that had only been circumstance, the shock of the moment?/ his inner doubter fretted.   
  
By the time he cleared customs at King Willem International, more than forty-eight hours had passed since he'd seen Zechs's message. Had he decided that Wufei wasn't coming? Would he think it was cowardice?  
  
He straggled dully out from the customs booth and into the men's room. He used the toilet, and then stared at himself in the long mirror over the sinks. He hadn't slept properly since the night before last. He hadn't bathed or brushed his teeth since he'd left New Orleans. His hair was straggling out from the braid and his clothes smelled stale. Wandering back onto the concourse in search of a car rental agency, he wondered if he should just get a hotel room instead and go tomorrow.   
  
He'd almost made up his mind to do exactly that when a familiar looking middle-aged man approached him. He was wearing a dark suit under his topcoat and had a newspaper under his arm.   
  
"Captain Chang, sir! So glad to see you've arrived at last. Mr. Peacecraft sent me to meet you."  
  
"Tomas, isn't it?" It was Zechs's valet.  
  
"Yes, sir. Allow me to take your bag. The parking garage is just out this way. "  
  
Despite all his recent resolve, he found himself following the man without protest.  
  
"I trust you had a good journey, sir?"  
  
"Not really," Wufei replied. "How did he know what flight I was coming in on?"  
  
The man gave him a slight, polite smile. "He didn't, sir. He had me watch for you."  
  
Wufei let this sink in as Tomas ushered into the back seat of a vintage Rolls Royce and drove him to the estate. Slumped back against the soft leather seat, he felt a strange little ache in his chest as familiar landmarks swept past. The sun was setting over the storm washed sea. It would be dark soon.  
  
The strange feeling grew stronger, the closer they got to the estate. By the time they drove in through the ornate gates his heart was pounding again, worse than when Quatre had tried to discuss sex with him. What had Quatre said? Trust his heart and his body? He'd have to unravel the wildly divergent signals he was getting from both to even begin to take direction.  
  
The gray weather seemed to have tracked him from France. Cold rain pelted down as he crossed the drive and climbed the marble stairs.   
  
Tomas checked his watch. "Mr. Peacecraft is probably in the library at this hour. Perhaps you would like to go say hello, while I put your things in your room. Shall I order dinner for you, Captain?"  
  
Wufei shook his head. "No thank you. I ate on the plane." The truth was he was so tense he didn't think he could swallow a raisin.  
  
He walked down the familiar corridors, his steps silenced by the thick carpets underfoot. That, coupled with exhaustion, made the whole situation feel unreal, as if he were going to wake up at any moment and find himself somewhere else. It was strange; he hadn't dreamt of the house the whole time he was gone.   
  
The library door stood open. He paused, almost surprised to find Zechs sitting in his usual chair, intent on a sheaf of papers balanced on his knee. He looked very serious, perhaps even sad, chin propped on his hand. He had on jeans tonight, and a dark cable knit sweater. It looked like he'd been out riding, thought Wufei. He felt like a ghost, an invisible presence granted a fleeting moment to visit a place he'd once existed. There had been moments when he'd actually even felt happy here.  
  
The feeling lasted only an instant. Zechs looked up and gave him a brilliant smile. The papers scattered across the carpet as he stood to welcome him.  
  
"Wufei! I'm so glad you're back."   
  
The husky timbre of that voice, and the joy of that colored it propelled Wufei across the room to meet him half way, and to allow himself to be gathered into outstretched arms.  
  
Arms!  
  
He pulled back a little and looked down at the left arm wrapped around his waist. Except for the leather glove covering the hand, it looked exactly like the real arm.  
  
Zechs grinned. "You couldn't have picked a better day to return. I have two arms again, but it seemed rather pointless, without you here to hold."  
  
The ridiculously romantic declaration nearly unmanned Wufei. His throat went tight and he let his head fall forward to rest against Zechs's chest and sighed as those arms tightened around him again. His hands were trapped between them, pressed to Zechs's chest, but not to push him away. Wufei stifled a groan against the back of one hand as he felt Zechs pull the tie from his braid and comb his hair free with his fingers. He wanted to melt into the soft wool under his cheek, lose himself in the familiar good scent of the man holding him.  
  
The completeness of that surrender shocked him and he forced himself to pull back, only to have his face gently cupped between Zech's strong hands, one warm and bare against his skin, the other cooler and sheathed in the softest leather he'd ever felt. Beautiful brilliant blue eyes searched his, alive with nothing but friendly concern. Zechs's right hand stole down to Wufei's chest to touch the white jade pendant that still hung there around his neck under the cheap white shirt. He stroked Wufei's throat and smiled again as he felt him tremble under the caress.  
  
"You're worn out, Wufei. These past few weeks have been so difficult for you. I'm very sorry."  
  
Wufei looked away and shrugged, not trusting his wildly veering emotions. "It was a long flight. There was a storm, in Paris. I couldn't sleep. I . . ." He trailed off again, not knowing what he wanted to say or do, now that he was here, only that those fingers felt as good as he'd remembered against his skin. "I'm very tired."  
  
Zechs pulled him close again, stroking his hair, his back, his shoulders. Wufei trembled harder against him, and his face grew warm. "Poor little Chang. Go take a hot shower and get into some clean nightclothes. I'll come and check on you in a while, and then you must sleep."  
  
Wufei nodded, and reluctantly left those sheltering arms. He could feel his body tingling all the way back to his room.  
  
His room.  
  
It was looked just as it had when he'd occupied it as Zechs's bodyguard; it was a guest room, he realized, not servants' quarters. He hadn't appreciated that fact before. He opened a dresser drawer, looking for his sweats and a shirt, and discovered that the clothing Zechs had bought for him was all neatly folded away there, together with a few other pairs of pants and some sweaters and shirts he did not recognize. He lifted out the black sweater and held it a moment, stroking the silky wool, remembering Zechs touching him through it. He went to the closet and found the black cashmere coat hanging there, with the Chinese silk shirt he'd gone dancing in that night. It was all there, as if this really was his room and he did belong here.  
  
He stood under the hot water in the shower for a long time. He was so tired he could let himself remember all the desperate washing and jerking off he'd done in here with hardly a twinge of guilt. Is that what Quatre had meant, that his body knew what it needed?  
  
He dried his hair and pulled on sweats and a black tee shirt, then wandered back out into the bedroom, half expecting to find Zechs there. He wasn't.   
  
Wufei sprawled across the bed, and all the stress and strain of the past weeks seemed to crash in on him, leaving him limp and numb. He'd survived it all and here he was, right back where it all began. The room was chilly but he was too tired to get under the covers. Closing his eyes, he told himself he would rest just for a little while, then go and talk to Zechs.   
  
The feeling of the mattress shifting woke him sometime later. The room was dark except for the glow of several thick white candles someone had put on the dresser. Zechs was sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, stroking the hair back from Wufei's face. He sleepily turned his face into that touch and gazed up at the man. His fear was still there, lurking just below the surface of his thoughts, but so was the knowledge that he could not have made any other decision than the one that had brought him here. Zechs had on pajama pants under his open robe. The fair skin of his bare chest caught the candle light like ivory, the lean muscle accented with shadow. Wufei had never seen anyone more handsome in his life.  
  
"You're cold, Wufei," Zechs whispered, and helped him under the sheets and down coverlet. When Wufei was settled back against the pillows he stroked his cheek again, the fingers finding their way once again to the jade pendant. "I saw you on television today. You were being interviewed with Winner, and you were wearing this. I was very glad to see it on you still. Why, Wufei? Why did you keep it?"  
  
Wufei blinked, trying hard to stay awake. "It was a gift. From you." Beyond that he couldn't explain, only that he hadn't been able to part with it. He heard Zechs chuckle softly, then the bed shifted again as he stood to go. Without thinking, Wufei reached out for him.   
  
_/You can sleep with us if you like./_  
  
"Sleep here, if you want." Had he really said that out loud?  
  
He must have, because Zechs lifted the covers and slid in beside him. Wufei's fuddled brain hadn't really gotten beyond the offer; perhaps he'd only been echoing what Trowa had said to him. He wasn't even certain what Zechs thought he was being offered. Before he could panic, however, he felt those arms go around him again, settling his head on Zech's broad chest, and Zechs softly stroked his back, nothing more. Lost on the pleasure of that touch, Wufei curled closer against him, hand tucked under his cheek. He could feel Zechs's heart beating under his fingertips, and the easy rise and fall of his breathing.   
  
It felt so good to be held like this!  
  
His eyes drifted shut again and he felt Zechs press a chaste kiss to his forehead, and another to his lips. "Good night, little Chang. And welcome home."  
  
Home. Somewhere in the back of his mind, alarm bells went off, but he was too tired to do anything but surrender to the warmth enveloping him and go to sleep in the arms of the man who probably wanted to be his lover.


	57. Swept Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei woke reaching for a gun that hadn't been under his pillow in weeks, and then blinked in the sudden brightness flooding the room as Tomas finished with the drapes.  
  
"Forgive me for disturbing you, Captain Chang. Mr. Peacecraft requests that you join him at sparring practice this afternoon. I took the liberty of bringing you some lunch."  
  
"Lunch?" Disoriented, Wufei sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was already past noon. He'd overslept. He was supposed to spar with Zechs. What the hell was Tomas doing in here, waiting on him?  
  
The valet uncovered the tray he'd left on the desk and took his leave. Wufei lay back, trying to sort out the situation. Had Zechs really slept with him last night, or was that a dream? But no; a familiar scent lingered on the pillow next to his. No dream. He'd asked Zechs to stay and he had.   
  
And he hadn't tried anything, either.  
  
Wufei wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that, but decided it was a relief to have a normal activity to look forward to. He could concentrate on that, rather than the lurking confusion.  
  
He glanced at the tray on his way to the shower; tea smoked chicken and rice, a favorite of his when he'd been here before. There was also a folded note tucked in between the water glass and a small vase holding a single white rose.  
  
The handwriting was Zechs's, of course, but much smoother and more legible than before. It helped, no doubt, to have a second hand to hold the paper still.   
  
Dear Wufei,  
If you're fretting about having slept in, don't. You were exhausted last night, and looked so peaceful this morning, asleep in my arms. I didn't have the heart to wake you any sooner. Have your lunch and meet me in the gazebo for practice when you're ready. Let's see how I measure up against the great Chang Wufei, with two arms!  
  
You did me a great honor last night. I have never slept better. Let me leave you with a bit of Chinese poetry I discovered while in the hospital. It is from a poem by the Emperor Jianwen, written in the seventh century, PC. Seems apropos.  
  
" _Charming boy - You look so handsome!  
You surpass Dong Xian and Mizi Xia.   
  
Our feather curtains are filled with morning fragrance,  
Within pearl blinds I hear the distant drips of an evening water clock.  
Kingfisher quilts bear the hues of mandarin ducks,  
Our curtained bed is inlaid with ivory.   
  
You are as youthful as Zhou Xiaoshi,  
Your face is more beautiful than rosy red dawn clouds._ "  
  
  
Your teachers missed a few things, I think.   
  
Z.  
  
Wufei read the poem again with interest. An emperor of China had written those lines? To a boy? He wondered if Zechs had been tampering with gender again, as he had with the Byron poem. But the names were masculine and he didn't think Zechs could have known that. He reread the stanza, then folded the note and slipped it into the desk drawer.   
  
It was still gray and rainy outside. He ate and bathed, then pulled on his workout clothes and a loose white cotton sweater he found in the dresser. He studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he bound his hair back. Was it simply a matter of convenience, that Zechs provided clothing for him, or did the man enjoy dressing him? He thought of the look in Zechs's eyes that night he'd worn the blue silk shirt and the necklace for the first time. Wufei was surprised by a throb of guilty pleasure at the thought, and the way his reflection was smiling. Shaking his head, he threw his shoulders back and gave himself a stern look.   
  
On the way out to the garden he noted a few discretely placed security guards. They were not Preventers, but wore the nondescript military uniforms of paid mercenaries. Many of the servants were people he did not recognize, either.  
  
The floor of the gazebo was neatly swept, and the wooden practice blades were there in a rack out of reach of the rain. Zechs sat on railing the above the koi pond, reading a book as he waited. He was dressed for fighting, in sweatpants and a fleece pullover. As he stood to greet Wufei, he noted approvingly how balanced the man's stance was these days, a far cry from how he'd been back in early September. Their practices had corrected a great deal; the new arm seemed to have completed the job.  
  
Wufei didn't realize he'd been expecting another embrace until Zechs instead gave him a formal fencer's bow. "Good afternoon, Wufei. You look well rested." He took up the wooden saber and made a few practice cuts with it.   
  
"I am, thank you." The poem, the rose, a night spent together, and yet it was suddenly as if they were back as they'd been a month ago. Wufei told himself he was not disappointed as he took up his sword. "I see you have new security guards. I hope you vetted them carefully."  
  
"Yuy and Maxwell assisted me before they went back to New Orleans. These men have all served under me before, which should be enough to guarantee their loyalty, even without the absurdly high salaries I pay them. Come, let's see what I can do, shall we?"  
  
Zechs had made considerable strides on his recovery before the surgery, and now he was a truly formidable foe. He gave no quarter and asked for none.   
  
Fighting cleared Wufei's mind, driving back the nagging confusion. The dance of battle was simple, focused, something as natural to him as breathing or walking. His muscles warmed and his spirits rose. Zechs's attacks were strong and well calculated. Wufei had to work hard to stay ahead of him.   
  
He scored the first touch, but Zechs caught him out almost immediately. Their feet made light thunder on the hollow wooden floor and their breath steamed on the cold air. After the first few rounds they both threw off their sweaters, stripping to almost identical close fitting black tank tops. Wufei got his first good look at the new arm. It matched the real one very well; some artist had put a great deal of effort into the detail of tendons and musculature, and the delicate shading of the skin tones. But the metal attachment ring had been left unadorned. It glinted silver in the dull daylight, looking like an archaic armband. It was an appropriate image, Wufei thought, watching the natural muscle flex above it. Zechs was a warrior, first and foremost, no matter if there was a war left to fight or not. Nothing could take that away from the man, or from Wufei either. Fighting like this, he saw his own rising excitement mirrored in those sharp, amused blue eyes. Whatever they'd been to each other last night, here and now, they were opponents both equally determined to best the other.   
  
They are evenly matched. They fought on for over an hour, until they were both red faced and sweating. At last Wufei scored a lucky hit, knocking Zechs's sword from his hand. Zechs jumped back and Wufei sprang after him, aiming a mock blow to the head that would have finished him if he'd allowed it to connect. Instead of ducking, however, Zechs caught the blade between his palms, stopping it mere inches from his face. It was a move worthy of a samurai and Wufei was impressed. Relinquishing his hold on the hilt, he stepped back and bowed. "The match is yours."  
  
Zechs tossed the wooden sword aside and returned the bow. "A draw. You are magnificent, as always."  
  
A serving man brought tea and they drank it sitting on the railing, watching the fish. An armed man patrolling the perimeter caught Wufei's eye.   
  
"Do I work for you now, too?" he asked.  
  
Zechs raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Wufei, you are here as my guest, and my friend, or so I hope."  
  
"Ah. I see." Wufei pondered this. "I quit Preventers."  
  
"Yes, I heard. Do you have anything else lined up?"  
  
"No. I thought perhaps you might--"  
  
"I won't hire you, Wufei, but not because of any doubts as to your abilities. If you ever do have cause to defend me, I'd like it to be out of more than a sense of duty."  
  
Wufei clasped both hands around his cup, so that Zechs would not see the sudden tremor there. "I see. You do want me to be--?"  
  
"My companion? My friend? All of that, and more, if you'll have me."  
  
Wufei stared down at the fish. "I failed you before. I was too weak."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous!"   
  
Wufei kept his gaze averted. Zechs hadn't seen how he'd fallen apart so uselessly and turned to the pipe.  
  
"I asked you before if you'd teach me some Wu-Yi fighting methods. I'm still interested, if you're willing."   
  
"Of course!" Wufei found himself back on solid ground again, and aware that Zechs had put him there. "Empty hand fighting would be a good place to start."  
  
Zechs refilled their cups and settled himself more comfortably, motioning for Wufei to continue.  
  
"There four general techniques which apply to all styles: Kicking, striking, throwing, and controlling. Kicking can involve tripping, in addition to foot and leg strikes. Striking refers to the blows from all areas of the body. Throwing refers to the techniques of wrestling used to down an opponent. There are also methods of controlling one's opponent by the use of joint locks, painful tendon or muscle stretching, striking at nerve points, and the obstruction of breath or blood flow. It is most important that a warrior express these fighting techniques clearly and with grace as well as strength. One is judged on the Eight Qualities: hands, eyes, body, steps, spirit, breath, strength, and ability. In Long Fist, the hands are to be 'fists like shooting stars," the arms, hands, wrists, and fingers moving with relaxed strength and speed. The eyes must be alert and alive, following the hands with lightning speed. One's torso, with its central point at the waist, must be agile and lively, 'like a crawling snake,' my teacher used to tell us."  
  
They spent the rest of the waning afternoon going through some basic katas. Afterwards they parted to shower and change for dinner. Wufei put on the jeans and black sweater, and brushed his hair out, leaving it loose over his shoulders. He was beginning to get used to the look of it.  
  
"Your Long Hand combat is good therapy for my arm," Zechs said, flexing the new fingers as they sat together over dinner that night. Zechs had ordered the meal served at the small table in the morning room, rather than in the cavernous dining room. A fire burned cheerfully on the hearth behind them, and rain lashed against the tall windows. The cold and darkness outside only made the room feel cozier.   
  
Zechs flexed his arm again and smiled. "The more I use it, the more the neural pathways develop. And I have to admit, I've always envied you your hand-to-hand combat abilities. I only hope I'm not too old to start this training. I'll be twenty-three in a few months, you know."  
  
"You're as well trained as anyone I've ever met. This is just a different technique. And I assume you're more interested in self defense and improvement, rather than competition."  
  
"True." Zechs sipped at his wine.   
  
Wufei's confusion had returned, and increased as Zechs made light conversation though the meal, then invited him to the library for their usual game of chess. It felt the same, being here, and yet it didn't. Wufei had had a purpose then, and thought he knew where he stood. Now he was treading water, waiting for some sign from Zechs. Would they sleep together tonight? Would Zechs expect more than just sleeping? Did Wufei? He grew distracted. He made foolish errors and lost three games in a row.  
  
"You're very quiet tonight. Tell me, what's troubling you?" Zechs said at last, and Wufei realized he'd been hiding nothing from the man.  
  
Wufei folded his hands in his lap. "I don't know what's going to happen next. I don't know what you want."  
  
"Don't you?" Zechs voice was suddenly lower, a husky caress.  
  
"You want--to have sex with me?"  
  
"I want to be your lover, Wufei."  
  
There it was, out on the table at last, with no equivocating. Wufei shivered and shook his head, drowning once again in his own conflicting emotions: fear, guilt, desire, and more guilt. "Why? Why me? You could have anyone, someone beautiful and experienced, like those men in Le Fleur. Not--not me!"  
  
Zechs leaned across the chessboard and took Wufei's hand. "Listen to me. I told you before; those young men in the club meant nothing to me, anymore than I was anything to them. It was just sex. With you, it's so much more than that.  
  
"But I know it's more than that, for you, Wufei. I've watched you war with yourself, fighting what you feel because of what you think you *should* feel. I'm a great deal more experienced in these matters than you are, so I hope you'll listen to me when I say that it's a losing battle. Like it or not, you are discovering who you are, and Wufei, that person is very good!"  
  
Wufei shook his head and tried to pull his hand away, but Zechs held him.  
  
"There are only five people left in the world whom I consider my equals: you and your friends. And of that five you are the most exquisite. Only you possess the combination of mind and soul and passion that makes me feel alive. You pulled me back from a very dark brink when you came to work for me. You made me feel something besides bitterness and self-loathing. You gave me the will to determine my own future again, and not be my sister's puppet. I consider you a very good friend, Wufei, and I want you to feel that way toward me."  
  
"But you do want sex, too, right?"  
  
"Oh yes!"  
  
Wufei sighed and shook his head. "This new self you speak of. I don't know who he is."  
  
Zechs sat back and folded his arms, looking at him with disapproval as if he were some junior officer who'd disappointed him. "If armed men burst through that door and attacked me right now, what would you do?"  
  
Wufei straightened at once in his chair. "I'd fight them, of course! Kill them, if necessary."  
  
"Why? You're no longer my bodyguard, or a Preventer. You don't even have a gun. And I'm not paying you. I told you that earlier."  
  
"I don't need a gun, or a job title, to protect you!" Wufei exclaimed, bristling at the unexpected slight.   
  
"Why then?" Zechs demanded. "What possible reason could you have?"  
  
"Because I-I care for you!" The words tumbled out before he could stop them.   
  
Zechs's stern expression softened at once to a fond smile. "There, you finally said it. I've been waiting for that."   
  
Wufei slumped again, hiding his face in his hands. "It's true. I do. I must, to feel the way I have these past weeks. But how can a man like you to want someone so weak?"  
  
He heard Zechs get up, and then strong hands were pulling him up from his own chair and into a comforting embrace. "You have it all wrong, little Chang," Zechs murmured against his ear. The warm lips moving against his skin sent a sensuous tingle down Wufei's entire right side. "I began loving you when you first revealed that side of yourself you call 'weak'. You can't even imagine the powerful attraction you have for me. You are so intelligent and cultured, so delicate in your sensibilities, and utterly fearless in battle. You are a true warrior, and my equal. And yet a single touch of my hand leaves you shy and trembling, just as you are now. You blush and turn your face away, even as your body presses closer to mine."  
  
It was true, all true. Wufei hid his face against that strong chest, too mortified to look up.  
  
"Oh, Wufei, you can't imagine how much that makes me want you. That probably makes me an egotistical bastard, I know, but please believe me; I truly do love you for your complexity, every aspect of it."  
  
"You love me?" Wufei clung to the front of Zechs shirt like a drowning man. "Even if those men in Le Fleur were right about me? Do you remember what they said? That I'm a--" He caught a hitching breath, and forced out the rest. "They thought I acted like a 'bottom', and I think they must have been right, because when I'm with you, I just want--I want--"  
  
"I know what you need, sweet little one." Zechs kissed his hair and smoothed his hand over it. "You forget just how much experience I have. I recognized it in you almost from the start, that yearning to let go, to surrender. Even when you were angry with me at that club, you did as I asked. What you see as weakness, though, I see as trust. Some part of you trusted me, long before I'd given you the slightest reason to. You know I'm strong enough for you. And that, my little Chang, is the very thing that will make me your faithful and adoring lover for as long as you want me."   
  
Wufei forced himself to look up. What he saw in Zechs's eyes, the mix of affection and desire, made his knees weak and his cock hard. "And you don't call that weakness?"  
  
"Not in my eyes. You're still yourself, Wufei, a Gundam pilot and a warrior. You're strong and independent and deadly, but also so very beautiful and soft and yielding. That dichotomy is the most erotic thing I've ever seen. You can do whatever you want with your life from this day forward, secure in the knowledge that I will shelter you and hold you and spoil you any way you'll allow, not because you are weak or lacking, but because you are perfect and lovely. Needing me to be strong for you when you wish to surrender is the most wonderful gift you could ever give me."   
  
Zechs kissed him again, on the mouth this time, running his tongue lightly across Wufei's lips. "Someday, very soon, I want to look at you across a crowded room, knowing you're armed, knowing that you would kill anyone who threatens us, and at that same moment I want to picture your blushing face as I make love to you and possess you entirely. That's the sort of man I am, Wufei. That's what I have to offer you. Do you want me?"  
  
A delicious answering ache flowing through Wufei's body, so powerful he could scarcely get his breath. He found his voice at last and the words tumbled out in a rush. "Yes! I want you, Zechs. Teach me to be that lover you described."  
  
+  
  
Zechs kissed him again and stroked his hair. "You're still trembling. You want this, but you're terrified. What is it you're so frightened of?"  
  
Wufei hid his face in his hands again and Zechs caught his breath at the sight. The boy had no idea how utterly irresistible he was. "I won't hurt you or degrade you in any way, Wufei. I'll never ask you to do anything you don't want to do. There are endless ways we can pleasure each other and I want to teach you every single one. I know you have some experience with women--"  
  
Wufei groaned. "I was terrible! Sally called me repressed. And I am! I won't be any good at it, you'll see!"  
  
Wufei simply had no clue how unbelievably sexual he really was; it radiated from him like heat. Zechs felt it in every shiver and press of that slim, supple body against his own, and the hard, impressive erection swelling the front of those snug jeans.   
  
"None of that matters between us," he murmured, fighting the urge to pick Wufei up in his arms and carry him to his bedroom this very second. "I'm sure Sally meant well, taking an untried boy barely sixteen into her bed and asking him to be a man for her. But she couldn't understand you, not like I do. Tonight I will show you that you have never been made love to before. Will you trust me to be your guide, little Chang?"  
  
Wufei sagged against him. "Please!" he whispered, shaking like a leaf in Zechs's arms. "I need to be with you tonight but I'm so scared I'll disappoint you."  
  
"You couldn't if you tried. There's a gift for you in your room, under your bed. Go and see. Then come to my room. I'll be waiting for you."  
  
+  
  
Wufei was amazed that his legs could support him as Zechs released him and gently pushed him away. His entire body seemed to be ruled by the throbbing erection jutting up against his belly. He was mortified for Zechs to see it, but excited, too. He didn't know what he wanted, or what he could accept, but things had gone too far to hesitate now.  
  
He went back to his room and looked under the bed. Sure enough, there was a large, flat box, wrapped in red ribbon. Inside, he found an elegant full-length kimono made of midnight blue silk. The fabric was the best quality, and it was embroidered across the front and back with plum blossoms. The wide sleeves were lined with rose-colored silk and there was a sash of the same color. He lifted it carefully from the box, unable to imagine himself in it. Underneath he discovered a pair of pajama pants in the same dark blue silk. When had Zechs bought these? Had he somehow known all along that Wufei would give in, or only hoped?  
  
Still caught in the riptide of fear and arousal, Wufei brushed his teeth and washed his face, then stripped off his clothes and put on the pants. He debated whether he should keep a tank top on, but in the end he settled for nothing but the lotus pendant. He wrapped the kimono carefully in front of the mirror, and cinched the sash around his waist. He brushed his hair again, pulling it forward around his face. He looked back at his reflection and saw with a start that with his hair like that, in this long flowered kimono, he looked almost like a girl, and a rather pretty one, at that. Grimacing, he shook his hair back and opened the neck of his robe to show his throat and a bit of his chest. That was better.   
  
And now there was nothing left to keep him here but fear. Squaring his shoulders, he gave himself a stern look in the glass. "He wants you. Don't fail him."  
  
+  
  
Zechs answered his hesitant knock and Wufei saw with dismay that he was still fully dressed. Those blue eyes widened appreciatively as he took Wufei's hand and led him into the room. "Perfect!" He brought Wufei's hand to his lips and kissed his palm and then his wrist, just below the edge of the sleeve.   
  
It tickled. Wufei blushed and looked away.   
  
He'd never been in Zechs's private rooms before. The bedroom was huge, and reminded him of the ornate Sanque embassy. The wide four-poster bed was made of heavily carved dark wood, with a tapestry canopy. There was a chess table near the French windows, and a loveseat stood in front of a fireplace where a crackling fire burned.   
  
"My sister's idea of princely accommodations," Zechs said with a deprecating wave of his hand. He kissed Wufei, then drew him to the couch in front of the fire. Sitting down, he pulled Wufei onto his lap and settled his head on his shoulder, left arm cradling his waist. "Did you like the poem I sent you this morning?"  
  
"Yes. Did the emperor really write that for a boy?"  
  
"Apparently it was not uncommon or unseemly for emperors to have boy lovers. There is a very famous story about one just a bit younger than you named Long Yang. He was famed for his beauty and became the favorite of Emperor Anxi, during the warring states period. They were fishing one day and Long Yang began to weep. When the emperor asked why, he said that it was because he'd caught a fish and been happy, but then caught a bigger fish and thought to throw the first one back. He feared he was like that first fish, and that the emperor would find some other lover and cast him aside, breaking his heart. Do you know what the emperor did?"  
  
"No, I've never heard this story."  
  
Zechs chuckled and stroked Wufei's arm. "He loved the boy so much that he passed a decree forbidding anyone to praise another's beauty in his presence, so that he would not be tempted. Long Yang's name became synonymous in Chinese history with male beauty and homoerotic love."  
  
"Such things were never spoken of on L-5."  
  
"They chose to forget. But not here on Earth. I also found several translations of a poem by Ruan Ji, who was the lover of another famous poet of his day. I've been saving it for you.  
  
" _In olden days were many handsome youths like  
An Ling and Long Yang.  
Young peach and plum blossoms,  
Dazzling and radiant.  
They were as joyful as nine spring times  
And lithe as branches bent under the autumn frost.  
  
Roving glances led to beautiful seductions,  
Speech and laughter were filled with fragrance.  
Partners clasping each other would welcome love  
Together under the covers and blankets.  
  
They were as two birds in flight,  
Their paired wings soaring,  
Using cinnabar ink they'd write their vows,  
'I'll never forget you.'_ "  
  
He ran his fingers over the embroidered blossoms on the kimono. "You put them all to shame, Wufei. You are dazzling and radiant, and nowhere did I read of any of those boys being able to fight like you."  
  
Stunned, speechless, Wufei surrendered to the touch of those fingers and the sound of that soft, rough voice.  
  
+  
  
Zechs stroked Wufei's long hair back from his neck and kissed him there, savoring the creamy golden skin above the edge of the kimono. Wufei caught his breath and Zechs continued kissing up his throat to his lips. Wufei's mouth opened to his and a hand stole up to lightly touch Zechs's cheek. He could feel Wufei's heart pounding under his hand, and saw with a sidelong glance that the boy's bare toes were already curling.  
  
Slowly, and with infinite gentleness, he slipped the kimono off Wufei's right shoulder and kissed his way down the curve of it. Wufei let out a soft moan and Zechs bared his other shoulder, kissing his way across Wufei's smooth back, then kissing the same path across the top of his chest, all the while keeping the front of the kimono closed over his nipples. Wufei's breathing quickened and his eyes fluttered shut. A faint blush glowed his high cheekbones, accentuating his beauty. Zechs pulled the kimono back up over his shoulders and pulled it closed.   
  
Taking Wufei's left hand in his, he slowly pushed the sleeve back to the elbow, kissing his way up the pale, sensitive skin of the forearm. Reaching the crook of Wufei's elbow, he swirled his tongue there, flicking lightly at the corded tendon, then slid the sleeve back down and repeated the process with the other arm. When he was done, Wufei was flushed and trembling and completely, modestly covered. Wufei's skin smelled faintly of some floral soap.  
  
"Do you like that, Wufei?" he whispered.  
  
"Yes!" Wufei breathed.   
  
"Shall I touch you some more?"  
  
"Oh yes! Please!"  
  
Zechs lowered Wufei back on the couch with his head against the cushions at one end, then knelt on the floor beside him to caress one bare foot. He stroked and kissed it from toes to ticklish ankle, then the other. Sliding the loose pant legs up, he massaged those slender calves and licked the sensitive place behind each knee.  
  
Wufei whimpered at that. His eyes were still tightly shut, hands pressed over his heart.  
  
Zechs smiled, then pulled the pant legs back into place and slowly slid his hands up the outsides of Wufei's thighs under the robe, the dark silk slick under his fingers. He wished he could feel with his new hand, but it was enough that he could touch Wufei and make him shiver and blush like this, still fully clothed. He stroked up over those slender hips until his fingers touched bare skin above the waistband. Looking up, he saw that Wufei had both hands pressed over his face, but his back was slightly arched, seeking more. Zechs stroked those long legs again and heard a soft answering moan. Sliding his hands up again, he let his thumbs trail over Wufei's hipbones and his right one felt how the silk pants were tightly tented across the front.   
  
"More?" he whispered again.  
  
Wufei moaned through his fingers.  
  
Zechs slowly slid his right hand up the inside of one thigh, then found the rounded bulge of the scrotum and circled his fingers lightly there. The moans turned to a soft, high pitched whine as Wufei's back arched again under the touch. He slid his hand higher, palming the hard column of flesh to the swollen head, and the small patch of wetness at the tip.   
  
Wufei gasped, shuddering under his hand.  
  
"Shall I stop?" Zechs murmured, teasing now.  
  
Wufei let out a needy whine, pressing his cock up into Zechs's palm, but those hands stayed over his face. It was too charming. Zechs's fingers found the silk tie of the pajamas. Fortunately Wufei had tied it in a bow. He grasped one of the ends and very slowly pulled it loose, then even more slowly undid the two small buttons of the fly, one after the other.   
  
With the kimono still modestly closed, Zechs eased the pants off, then ran his hands up the bared legs and hips. Wufei was deliciously smooth, with only the lightest dusting of baby fine hair on his shins and thighs. Zechs's hands traveled over his hips again to play across the tight, quivering belly. Wufei was tense as a bowstring now, but had not asked him to stop.  
  
Zechs slid his left arm under the boy's shoulders, pulling him up to cradle him against his chest. Wufei covered his face with one hand and clasped the front of Zechs's shirt with the other as Zechs slowly pulled the lower folds of the kimono apart, exposing him from the waist down. Wufei's long slender legs were pressed tightly together, but his toes were still curling and his cock stood up proudly from a tidy patch of silky black pubic hair. His sac was enticingly hairless and Zechs could not resist bending to place a kiss there, inhaling Wufei's delicate musk as he did so. Wufei let out a choked cry and his hips bucked.   
  
"You like that." Zechs kissed the puckering skin again and ran the tip of his tongue over the rounded contours of his balls. Wufei was biting his thumb now, but let out a hissing cry around it. Zechs reached up and pulled the hand away from his mouth, leaving the one pressed to his face alone. "I want to hear you. Let me hear you."  
  
Wufei moaned again, then whispered, "Never--"  
  
"Never?"  
  
"Never felt-- so good!"  
  
"Then you do want this?"  
  
"Yes!" So soft but so full of need.  
  
"I am your lover now?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"And you are mine?"  
  
"Yes! Oh please, please!"  
  
Zechs kissed his lips again, invading that shy warmth with his tongue while he took that slim, beautiful cock in his hand and gently stroked it.   
  
"Ah!" Wufei arched up again with a cry bordering on pain.   
  
Zechs laid him back again and kissed up those golden thighs to lick and kiss those perfect balls, still stroking his cock. Wufei had both hands to his face again, panting hoarsely as he began to thrust helplessly into that fist. Zechs knew he couldn't stand much more of this, not this first time after such a long period of stress.   
  
"I'm going to make you come now, mei." He'd picked up the word for "beautiful one" in his research and it could not have been more appropriate now. Wufei was slowly abandoning himself to the pleasure, but so shyly, so delicately, just as Zechs had known he would. "Relax and just let yourself feel it." He slipped one arm under Wufei's lower back, the other under his thighs and lifted his hips, taking the weeping head of his cock between his lips and rolling his tongue around on it, tasting the salty tang of the fluids that already glistened there. Wufei let out a louder, throaty cry, shuddering in his arms. Zechs took him deeper, sucking and licking him to the root as he moved his right hand up to cup those small, firm buttocks and tickle the cleft between them.  
  
Wufei shuddered against his face, but pushed at Zechs's head, trying vainly to warn him off. "I'm going to--You have to--"  
  
+  
  
He as going to come and Zechs's hot, unbelievably talented mouth was still on him. And he wasn't listening, either, as Wufei tried to warn him. He couldn't want it, to have Wufei actually ejaculate in his mouth like that. Even Sally hadn't--  
  
But Zechs only tightened his left arm around his shoulders and squeezed his bottom with his right hand. Long fingers danced along the cleft between the cheeks, not probing deeper, but the promise was there. Wufei was terrified that he would try to penetrate him with those fingers, but the fear brought something else with it; a sudden flash of him spreading his legs and welcoming those questing digits, opening himself, letting Zechs in.  
  
His fingers locked in Zechs's thick hair as the orgasm hit him and it was too late to think or worry about anything at all. He didn't cry out; he couldn't get enough breath to do so, but the unbearable rush of pleasure stretched his mouth in a silent scream of ecstasy as he shot his load in that hot mouth and Zechs just kept sucking him. His body rose and fell under that mouth with its own rhythm and Zechs rode it out, not letting go with hands or lips. The waves of pleasure just kept coming, better than anything he'd ever experienced in Sally or his own hand. Lying there, still so dressed and yet feeling more naked than he ever had in his life, Wufei accepted that everything Zechs had told him about himself was true. This is who he was and what he wanted, and needed. And this man that he loved-yes, loved!-loved him enough to take this sort of care with him and shatter him to the core with pleasure.   
  
Wufei surrendered with every fiber of his being, and when it was over he was weeping aloud and Zechs was pulling him down into his lap and holding him, rocking him like a child. And it felt so good, so right! Wufei wrapped his arms around him and held on, unable to do anything else.  
  
+  
  
Zechs wrapped the kimono around Wufei's legs again and held him tight until he calmed down, then carried him to his bed. He tucked him in there, stripped to his boxers, and joined him. Wufei's eyes were closed, but he wrapped himself around Zechs again and burrowed into his arms. An instant later, however, Zechs was being kissed wildly, as Wufei tasted himself on Zechs's tongue with complete abandon. Zechs looked up into those wide black eyes and saw awe there, and all the yielding softness he'd guessed was there. And now there was no fear.  
  
"Wufei, you are so beautiful!" His own neglected cock felt like it was on fire, he was so horny, but he could live with that for now. It was enough to see Wufei looking at him like this.  
  
"So are you!" the boy whispered back, and Zechs thought he knew how those emperors of old must have felt, with those blossom boys in their beds.   
  
"I love you, Chang Wufei, and I claim you as my own." Saying those words aloud at last was almost enough to make him come.   
  
Wufei let out a soft moan and kissed him again. "I'm yours. I love you! I've never felt like that before, ever!"  
  
"Of course not!" Zechs chuckled, combing his fingers though that silken black hair and letting it fall to frame that lovely face. "You were waiting for me."   
  
"Yes!"   
  
Wufei gazed down at him, eyes still filled with wonder, then he moved slowly down Zechs's body, hands seeking the waistband of the shorts, pulling at it, pulling it down.  
  
Zechs caught at his shoulder. "You don't have to do that now."  
  
But a bit of steel had come back to Wufei. Pushing Zechs's hands away, he tugged the shorts down, gripped his erection at the base and gingerly lapped at the head, as if curious about the taste. Perhaps he was, for he kept at it and the light, slick exploration of that virgin tongue instantly had Zechs moaning and gasping. It was a reversal to rival the one Wufei had pulled on him with their poetry battle.   
  
As inexperienced as Wufei was, he was still male and had a very good sense of what felt good. He worked the base of Zechs's cock with a firm hand, all the while keeping up a light, teasing play of tongue and lips on the head. It was fantastic, and excruciating. Zechs had certain qualms about coming in his inexperienced lover's mouth this first time, but Wufei would not be moved. Zechs gave up and let him explore, only too happy to be the subject of such a thorough examination.   
  
That mouth moved to his balls, and he felt the delicious wet roughness of Wufei's tongue lap across his skin, seeking the exquisitely sensitive place underneath the sac. God, how did he know about that? Zechs growled in pleasure, arching up under him, only to find his cock taken to the hilt in that hot mouth and sucked on in earnest now. As much as he would have loved to have it last longer, it had been far too long since he'd come and, after this day's excitement, he couldn't stop the inevitable now. Darker instincts took over. Gripping that sleek head between his hands, he fucked that sweet mouth and climaxed long and hard, shouting his pleasure. Wufei took it like a good little soldier, too, not fighting him, just choking and gasping as he swallowed it all down. Christ, when had it *ever* felt this good?  
  
Remorse set in almost at once. Zechs groaned and released his grip on Wufei's head. The boy pulled back, coughing and wiping his mouth, but then, to Zechs's ever-mounting amazement, he climbed back on top of him and kissed him again, mingling their two flavors together in their mouths as he rubbed and writhed against him.  
  
When Wufei let him up for air again, Zechs couldn't help laughing as he took that flushed face in his hands again, gazing up into those glowing eyes, savoring the totally new sort of smile on those full lips. "And where did you come from, little wildcat?"  
  
Wufei blushed and pressed his face into the curve of Zechs's neck. "I don't know! Was that--was it all right?"  
  
Zechs hugged the breath out of him. "More than all right. Fucking magnificent!" He rolled him off and lay face to face with him, still stroking his face and lips and playing with the jade pendant at his throat. "Say you'll never leave me, little Chang."  
  
Wufei caught his right hand and kissed Zechs's fingertips. "How could I leave you? You claimed me. I'm yours."  
  
Zechs kissed his forehead and he sighed happily. After a moment, however, he stirred, tucking his chin and staring at Zechs's chest in that way he did when he was feeling shy. "You didn't--that is, you didn't try and--"  
  
"Fuck you?" Wufei nodded and Zechs swore he could feel him blush.   
  
"Did you want to?"  
  
Zechs chuckled again and stroked his ass throrugh the kimono. "This little bottom of yours was like a ripe, golden peach in my hand. It was all I could do not to take a bite, it felt so juicy and plump. How could I not want to make love to you there, too? But only when you're ready and want me to, if ever. I haven't even begun to show you all the other things we can do together."  
  
"Are you sure you don't mind?"  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
Wufei snuggled closer and sighed. After a moment he whispered, "I owe you a poem."  
  
"Do you have one?"  
  
"A very, very old one. No one knows who wrote it.  
_  
If you were riding in a coach  
And I were wearing a peasant's coat,  
And one day we met in the road,  
You would get down and bow.  
If you were carrying a peddler's umbrella,  
And I were riding on a horse,  
And one day we met in the road  
I would get down for you.  
  
I want to be your friend  
For ever and ever without break or decay.  
When the hills are all flat  
And the rivers are all dry,  
When it lightens and thunders in winter,  
When it rains and snows in summer,  
When Heaven and Earth mingle---  
Not until then will I part from you._ "  
  
"That's a very beautiful poem," Zechs whispered back, his voice huskier than normal.   
  
"It's really more an oath, like the one at the end of your Ruan Ji poem."   
  
"Even better. ' _Until Heaven and Earth mingle,_ ' I will be your faithful lover, Chang Wufei."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was reeeeeeeally tempted to call this one "The Claiming of Chang Wufei" but thought it was just too much of a spoiler. Even so, I think this fic has officially reached "male bodice ripper" proportions. Couldn't resist, though. Those two are just so damn 19th century romantic together! *sigh!* Never planned it, it just worked out that way. Hope 05 and 06's sharper edges still show a little! Don't fret for Z, either. He's just getting his "little wildcat" warmed up.
> 
> The poems are real, by the authors given.
> 
> The Long Yang story is one of several very famous ones about emperors and their boyfriends.
> 
> Wufei's poem: In the country of Yueh, when one man made friends with another they would make an earthen altar, sacrifice a dog and a cock (rooster!) on it, and recite the oath. My research did not say what this type of friendship entailed, but you have to wonder. Well, I do, anyway.


	58. Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero and Duo returned from Sanque to find they'd missed Wufei by a day. They took a well-deserved rest, hanging out at the house and making noisy love while Trowa and Quatre were off at the Saturday night performance. Everyone kept an eye on their email, but there was no word from Wufei. Heero pointed that Wufei was not in the habit of writing to any of them, but decided that if they hadn't heard from him by midweek, he or Quatre would write.  
  
Circus della Notte was closed on Sunday and Monday nights and Trowa stubbornly resisted numerous requests from local reviewers and city officials to add matinee shows. The Circus of the Night was performed at night, and only at night. Any suggestion that additional shows meant additional revenue was met with disdainful silence. Money was not the issue, and besides they were making pots of it with the current schedule. The New Orleans engagement ran until mid-December, and then the show moved on to New York, Chicago, and San Francisco, where the first weeks' runs were already sold out. After that, it was on to Paris in the spring.  
  
After a great deal of consideration, Heero and Duo decided not to go on the road. They would fly out to help with the opening performances in each city, but remain based at the New Orleans house for now, trying to figure out what they wanted to do with their lives. Duo was the official mask maker for the circus, but that wasn't a full time job and it didn't require his permanent presence. Heero had plenty of money, but was beginning to feel restless. He needed a mission of his own.   
  
It had been a difficult decision. The group relationship with Trowa and Quatre was working well as far as it had gone, but the deeper bond between Heero and Duo was still new and needed its own space. None of them had come out and stated to the others whether or not they were willing to extend sexual relations between the couples, but Heero knew Duo was still too fragile to share him.   
  
That suited Heero just fine. Being able to sleep and mess around with the others on a friendly basis, together with frequent auditory orgies, was enough. He was going to miss having all four of them in bed together, though, and the general companionship of everyday life. They were, by their own unique definition, a family now.   
  
The tabloids had gotten wind of the fact that they were sharing a house, of course, and their public antics promoting the show had fueled rampant speculation. "Gundam Boy Menage a Quatre?" the Modern World News trumpeted, an unfortunate choice of words for Quatre, whose long-suffering relatives erupted with varying degrees of dismay. "Gundam Boy Wife Swapping Parties, But Which Ones Are the Wives?" the National Tattler coyly asked, then went on to identify Quatre and Duo as effeminate bottoms, complete with doctored photos. The Berlin Weltbeobachter was unusually restrained for once, settling for paparazzi photos of them at clubs and a few mild insinuations.   
  
The mainstream press was curious, as well, but all four refused interviews about anything other than the circus and countered with a terse statement that there was nothing untoward going on. That they were measuring that by their own standards was nobody's business but their own.  
  
+  
  
Early Monday morning Heero came half awake as Quatre squirmed out from between him and Trowa. It was pouring outside and the room was cold. A puff of chilly air invaded the bed when Quatre moved and Heero grumbled and pulled the covers back up to his chin, pressing back against Duo, who was still fast asleep spooned against Heero's back. Trowa muttered some sleepy endearment to Quatre, then rolled into his place, nestling against Heero. Comfortably trapped between two warm bodies, Heero slipped an arm around Trowa and went back to sleep. He'd have been very content to stay there the rest of the morning if Quatre hadn't come bursting back in still in his robe, with his laptop under his arm.   
  
"Wake up, you guys!" he said, climbing in under the covers beside Trowa and flipping his computer screen up. "Read this!"  
  
Heero took the computer from him and blearily scanned the email displayed there. Trowa and Duo grudgingly cracked an eyelid and leaned in to read along with him. Everyone was wide-awake after the first few lines.  
  
  
_To: Sandrock@privatesky.net_  
 _Cc: ShinigamiFlyBoy@privatesky.net, Wing@privatesky.net, GreenEyz@privatesky.net_  
  
_From: Shenlong@privatesky.net_  
  
_19 November 198_  
 _02:17 am EST_  
  
_My good friends:_  
  
_I write to thank you all for your care and assistance, and to apologize for any inconvenience I have caused you. I'm still with Zechs Merquise at his Sanque estate and he has accepted me as his lover. I am, for the first time in a long time, truly happy. You are probably as surprised as I am at this development. I cannot fully explain it, except to say to Quatre, you gave me excellent advice in New Orleans. I finally listened to what my heart and my body were trying to tell me; they are wiser guides than I had been taught to believe. Do you remember that copy of the Tao you gave me? That has also been instrumental in reclaiming my life and putting me where I am so glad to be._  
  
_Quatre and Trowa, thank you both for your forgiveness. I know I do not merit it. Your circus is wonderful. You are exceptional artists. "Passage" was heartbreaking, and your "Meld" is one of the bravest, most beautiful love poems I have ever experienced. I hope to see it again._  
  
_Heero and Duo, thank you for rescuing me. You did, you know. I cringe at the memory, but am grateful beyond words to you for being there when you were least wanted and most needed. Please forgive my boorish behavior in Madrid. You two are as perfect together as Trowa and Quatre and I wish you a lifetime of happiness together. Zechs has said several times how helpful you were to him when you were here, and I thank you for that, as well. He also said he is grateful to Duo for not shooting him, but it seems to be joke of some sort, though he will not explain._  
  
_You have all been my teachers. The love you show one another is admirable. I'm sorry I was too blind and stubborn to accept it before. I feel like such a different person now, one who wishes very much to be a better friend to each of you than I have been in the past._  
  
_However, I fear my choice of lover may prevent you from wanting further contact with me. That would make me very sad, but I will understand and respect your feelings. What goes around comes around, as Duo might say. It would probably amuse you to know how much influence you have had on me, 02, something I didn't even realize until recently._  
  
_With warmest regards,_  
  
_Wufei_  
  
  
Everyone stared at the screen for a few moments, then Duo let out a low whistle. "Wow! He actually went through with it!" His eyes widened. "I mean, those two? Can you imagine?"  
  
"Mmmm, yeah!" Trowa murmured, clearly already doing just that and enjoying the view.   
  
Quatre smacked him on the back of the head. Hard.  
  
"Mele!" Trowa cried, giving his husband a wounded look.  
  
"Don't you 'mele' me, Trowa Barton!" Quatre growled.   
  
Duo cackled and Heero grinned as Trowa tried to sweet talk his way back into Quatre's good graces. Trowa had been his usual quiet self when he and Heero had been Zechs's "guests" in Antarctica, but Heero now suspected that the tall, handsome young Zechs had made more of an impression on Trowa, even masked, than 03 had let on at the time, and that Quatre knew it.   
  
But Quatre's outrage was half-hearted at best, and Trowa soon had him down among the pillows, kissing and groping his way to forgiveness. Duo rolled his eyes.   
  
Heero grabbed Trowa by one bare arm and hauled him off the smaller boy. "You two can sort this out later. What about Wufei's email?"  
  
Quatre sat up and pulled his bathrobe back up around his shoulders. "Yes, he just poured his heart out to us." He shook his head. "Something has really rocked him."  
  
"A tall, blond, extremely persuasive older something," Duo grumbled.   
  
"You still don't trust him?" asked Quatre.  
  
"Damn right I don't!"  
  
"He acted honorably toward us during the war," Trowa said, echoing Heero's thoughts on the matter. Duo scowled and folded his arms.  
  
"Up to a point, anyway," Quatre grudgingly agreed, staring at the email again. "Wufei does sound happy. But this last bit here? He's genuinely scared of losing us, just when he's ready to let us in. Whatever we think of Zechs, we owe him that much. I vote we back Wufei up on this and let him know it."  
  
"I agree," said Heero. "I think Zechs might be good for him, and if he isn't, Wufei will need us."  
  
Trowa nodded. "Agreed. Duo?"   
  
"OK, OK! So I'll give the guy a chance. One! But I say we check him out. Any ideas?"  
  
+  
  
Zechs stepped from the shower and toweled himself off, taking special care with the locking ring on his left arm, then went to the mirror to dry his hair. It hung a bit past his shoulders now, and Wufei had hinted that he wouldn't mind it longer still, the way it had been during the war. Zechs smiled at his reflection as he finger combed the long pale strands under the blow dryer; if his Wufei wanted his hair long, then long it would be. His cock twitched appreciatively at the thought. In the few days since they'd become lovers, Wufei had proven himself worth any consideration, and he asked little enough as it was. He couldn't even come up with a birthday request, saying that Zechs had already given him too much.  
  
Zechs shook his head at the thought, then checked his shave and dabbed on a little cologne. By day life was much as it had been before. They sparred and rode, played chess, walked on the beach and the cliffs, read, watched the news and movies. But there was a delicious undercurrent to it all, a shared secret smile at the memories of what the nights now held for them.   
  
Wufei remained the most astonishing mix of modesty and wanton desire. He required gentle seduction each time they made love, and so far Zechs had not asked for more than mutual caresses and oral sex, but once his little wildcat relaxed and abandoned himself to the pleasure, he was insatiable. Better yet, he genuinely enjoyed the taste of Zechs's semen and gave one hell of a blowjob for a virgin.   
  
And that little china doll body? It was every bit as responsive as Zechs had guessed. The slightest touch, even a heated glance, was enough to make him blush and shiver. Thus far Zechs had kept things business-like during the day, and enjoyed watching Wufei's need build. He craved Zechs's touch and had to overcome his own natural reticence to seek it out. Zechs did not in anyway discourage him, but let Wufei come to him. It was like taming a high-strung horse, and far more rewarding. By the time they retired to their room at night the boy was practically panting for his touch, and eager to be coaxed into learning new things. From the start he'd given off telltale signs that ass play was probably going to be welcome eventually, if not more. Zechs certainly hoped so! It was sweet torture, denying himself that sweet golden peach of a bottom. He caressed it every chance he got, and had gone so far as to cover it with kisses late last night while Wufei hid his face in a pillow and moaned. But those thighs stayed pressed primly together. So far.  
  
Yes, Wufei was progressing, but still insisted on bathing alone, and changing for the night in the bathroom. Zechs didn't mind that one bit, either. He loved choosing every article of clothing for him online or at the tailor's, with the thought of what it would be like to remove it from that lovely body later. So far Zechs had been careful to leave some article of clothing at least partially on him; technically speaking, he had not yet seen his lover naked. Wufei was also unable to make love with the lights on, but had compromised by accepting firelight or a few candles in the bedroom.   
  
Oddly enough, he stripped Zechs naked every time with obvious relish, and worshipped him from head to toe. Eyes half-lidded with pleasure, he rubbed on Zechs like a cat, twined around him like a vine, and used his tongue like Zechs was made of ice cream. Last night Zechs had come the first time just from having that mouth on his nipples. Despite all the many lovers he'd enjoyed, he'd never had anyone quite like Chang Wufei in his bed.  
  
And, he reminded himself, admiring his own half hard cock in the mirror, he was still only getting started. What an unlooked for bonus, that he was hopelessly in love with him, as well! Resisting the urge to touch himself, he pulled on his black silk robe and belted it loosely, then sauntered out to see what his beautiful boy was doing.  
  
The lights were still on but Wufei had lit the fire and the candles. A subtle rose scent filled the room. Under that reserved exterior, Wufei was as much a sensualist as Zechs. At the moment he was sitting on the bed with his laptop open in front of him and his glasses perched on his nose. The scholarly pose was at odds with the white silk lounging pajamas he was wearing. The tunic had long flowing sleeves and a high Mandarin collar, but that only added to the fun.   
  
Wufei glanced up and smiled. "Sorry. I'll only be a moment."  
  
"It's all right, Wufei." Zechs went to the dresser and took out a few silk scarves for later. He knew that Wufei had written his friends yesterday, though not what the content of the message had been. He'd been a bit distracted ever since and checked his mail more often than usual.  
  
"Sally says hello," Wufei told him without looking up.   
  
"Send her my regards."  
  
Wufei typed a quick reply, then opened the next mail. "Une still wants me back . . ."  
  
"She can't have you." Zechs had lost one man to the bitch. She couldn't have this one.  
  
Wufei deleted the message unanswered, then opened the next. Zechs waited with patient amusement, then noted how Wufei's expression had gone very still. A moment later those dark eyes widened and he let out a soft gasp behind upraised fingers. Concerned, Zechs walked over and sat down next to him in time to see a tear roll down Wufei's cheek. Wufei wiped at it impatiently, still reading the message in front of him.   
  
Zechs braced for the worst. Yuy had been civil and professional when he was here, but Maxwell had made it clear that he didn't trust him. Zechs wasn't certain of the other Gundam pilots' feelings, but he suspected that an "us or him" ultimatum was probably what his lover most feared. "Wufei?"  
  
To his relief, Wufei smiled up at him and tilted the screen for him to read.   
  
  
_To: Shenlong@privatesky.net_  
  
_From: Sandrock@privatesky.net_  
  
_19 November 198_  
 _09:47 am EST_  
  
_Dear Wufei,_  
  
_The war is over. Zechs must be worthy if someone as honorable as you feels this strongly for him. We have all discussed it and want you to know that no matter what, we are your friends. Have no doubt on that account. And no more apologies! They've already been accepted. You were there for all of us when it counted._  
  
_Trowa and I go on the road in a few weeks. We'd like you and Zechs to visit us here in New Orleans before we leave. Stay here at the house; the security is better here than at a hotel. You can come see the show again, too, and show Zechs "Meld." Oh, and Duo says to tell you RSVP, ASAP._  
  
_Please, come and see us soon!_  
  
_Your friends,_  
  
_Quatre & Trowa, Heero & Duo_  
  
  
_PS from Trowa: Please tell Zechs I remember his honorable treatment of Heero and me._  
  
_PS from Heero: Do as Quatre says. Come ASAP._  
  
_PS From Duo: xoxoxoxo Wuffie! They won't let me add the rest of what I was going to say, just that I hope Zechs is treating you good._   
  
  
Zechs heart swelled; the others were the sort of young men he'd hoped they were, and they'd made it eloquently clear Wufei was still one of them. He stroked Wufei's damp cheek. "You are fortunate in your friends."  
  
"Yes." Wufei leaned against him and sighed contentedly. "I think there is something I'd like for my birthday, after all."  
  
Zechs chuckled, taking the computer from him and setting it aside on the night table. "I'll book the tickets tomorrow. But what will you tell Duo? Am I treating you 'good'?"  
  
"Very good indeed!" Wufei allowed himself to be drawn into Zechs's lap. "I have a new poem for you. Do you have one for me?"  
  
"Of course!" Zechs kissed the angle of Wufei's jaw, then lifted those slender hands and kissed the palms and fingers. "Early twentieth century. Rainier Maria Rilke.  
  
" _What fields are fragrant as your hands?  
You feel how external fragrance stands  
upon your stronger resistance.  
Stars stand in images above.  
Give me your mouth to soften, love;  
ah, your hair is all in idleness._ "  
  
He kissed Wufei deeply, then laid him back on the bed and stroked that long black hair spread over the pillow.  
  
" _See, I want to surround you with yourself  
And the faded expectation lift  
From the edges of your eyebrows;  
I want, as with inner eyelids sheer,  
To close for you all places which appear  
By my tender caresses now._ "  
  
He kissed his way under Wufei's chin and undid the top button of the tunic, loving the way that slender body arched seeking his. "And now my reward?"  
  
Wufei gazed up at him and said softly, "Late second century After Colony, by a poet of no importance.  
  
" _In the beginning_  
you were so strange to me,  
come from another land, where I  
did not know your language, and  
your thoughts did not meet mine.  
  
Now your pale hair lies  
gently on my pillow  
in the tea fragrant morning light.  
Silver strands reach for black silk  
and softly twine as one.  
  
My hand yearns for yours  
as our eyes look away,  
to the sound of the water, and  
your palm fits mine like two halves  
of the same broken shell."**  
  
  
Zechs stared down at him, amazed at all the depth of feeling this beautiful lover of his could awaken, with no more than his voice and his eyes. "This poet of no importance of yours, he's very good. I've fallen quite in love with him."  
  
"He's very glad to hear that," Wufei whispered back, drawing him down for a kiss. "Put the lights out?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering, 'mele' is Greek for 'honey'. Thanks to his life among the mercenaries and circus folk (and Babelfish, of course), Trowa also speaks a smattering of French, Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese.
> 
> **Wufei's poem is a gift from the wonderful Justkat, my poetic muse, who wrote it for 05 and 06!


	59. Symmetries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The shaggy blond wig Heero wore under his cap was cover enough to keep most people from recognizing him as he sat sketching in the Royal Street cafe. The dark glasses kept his subjects from knowing that they were being observed. Sitting back in his wrought iron chair, sketchbook on his knee, he could look sidelong at people around him, capturing them on the paper without them knowing. This morning he was watching a mother and two small girls. It was a challenge, getting three figures roughed out before they moved on, but it was good practice. The girls were probably about four, with curly black hair and light eyes. The mother smiled at them as she sipped her coffee. All three looked very peaceful and happy. Heero found himself staring at them, pencil still above the page, trying to figure out how to translate that sense of peace. The little girls were in constant motion, but there was still symmetry between them, as if some personal gravitational field held them together. Heero had noticed the same sort of configuration in pictures of his friends, and in ones with him in them, too. It pleased him, seeing that. He also found himself not looking forward to Trowa and Quatre leaving to go on tour. He didn't want to live on the road, but he would miss them, miss the symmetry of four they'd so quickly grown used to.  
  
"You're very good."  
  
Heero looked around sharply and found a heavyset man with a long gray ponytail smiling at him from the next table. He wore baggy old jeans and a faded floral print shirt with a hole in one elbow, but he didn't look poor.   
  
"Thanks," he muttered, staring the man down through the dark lenses. Heero resisted the urge to close the sketchbook. He had nothing to be embarrassed about, but it felt odd, having a stranger watching him.  
  
"You have a knack for capturing the personality," the man said, unphased. "When I came in you were drawing the two young prostitutes. You really caught how tired and empty they looked, under the hard expressions."  
  
"Are you an artist?" asked Heero.  
  
"Yes. Jim Arnaud." He extended a hand and Heero shook it silently. "My gallery is a couple of doors down. Would you like to see it? I was just going in to check on some work being hung."  
  
Heero hesitated, then shrugged and followed him out.   
  
He'd noticed the art gallery several times, but not the name. Gallery Arnaud. Huge, brilliantly colored oil paintings were on display in the windows, and more hung in the whitewashed rooms beyond. A few artsy looking young men and women were at work hanging pictures a side room.  
  
Not all the work was Arnaud's, but his work was the most prevalent and distinct. He painted scenes of the French Quarter and Garden District, the riverfront and cemeteries, and old plantation houses, but in a wildly impressionistic fashion, with dark, haunting colors and strange angles, as if the whole world was on a different skew than reality. Heero walked from one to another, amazed at how each one seemed to give off a mood.   
  
"This is sort of how I see the city, too," he murmured, impressed.  
  
Arnaud leaned against a wall, smiling slightly. "I'm glad you like them. I don't suppose I could see some more of your work?"  
  
Heero handed him his sketchbook. It was one he used for public sketching. The one with his first nude studies of Duo was already full and stored safely at home. There were some pictures from the others, though, including some from Circus della Notte. He noticed Arnaud pausing over these, including a particularly dark study of Trowa in his ringmaster costume, with Quatre kneeling masked in front of him.   
  
"Ah, so you've been to the show?" Arnaud said. "Amazing, isn't it?"  
  
Heero nodded, trying not to grin.   
  
Arnaud turned the page and found a study of Wufei as Heero had seen him on the news yesterday. He and Zechs had attended a charity event sponsored by some trust Relena was involved with, and caused a stir by showing up together in a limousine. He'd been watching with the others as Zechs emerged from the long black car, dressed in a tuxedo, then turned to give his hand to his slender companion. The camera angle was such that they'd only seen the small, gracefully extended hand, then a profile hidden by long black hair, and finally the outfit, a sort of long, light coat of gauzy green silk, printed with cranes, over flowing black silk pants.   
  
"Hey, who's the hot classy babe, and where's Wuffie?" Duo had demanded.   
  
Then the "hot classy babe" had straightened and turned to Zechs, showing a flat, well-toned chest under a tight black shirt and the hint of a shoulder holster under the coat.   
  
"That _is_ Wufei!" Quatre exclaimed, echoing the others' disbelief at what they were seeing.  
  
It wasn't just the unexpected clothing that made them all stare, or the fact that he was wearing his hair down in public; it was the look on Wufei's face as he looked up at Zechs. He wasn't smiling, exactly, and they all saw those dark eyes sweep the crowd for trouble, but there was something else, something softer.   
  
"Damn, he's _glowing!_ " Quatre said softly, leaning forward in interest.   
  
"He's in love, all right," Trowa said, smiling under his bangs. "Check out Zechs."  
  
Merquise had released Wufei's hand as soon as he was out of the car, but couldn't seem to take his eyes off him as they walked together up the red carpet toward the entrance of the building. Heero could not claim to know the man well, but he thought he recognized in that smile much of what he himself felt when he looked at Duo: love, passion, pride, the desire to protect. Wufei remained as dignified as ever, but Heero also detected a hint of shy pleasure in his lover's attention. That's what he'd been trying to capture in this sketch.  
  
A few pages of strangers later, Arnaud paused over a sketch of Duo reading, his hair loose over his shoulders. He glanced up at Heero and chuckled. "I didn't take you for a fan boy. These are exceptionally good likenesses, though."  
  
Puzzled, Heero asked, "Fan boy?"  
  
"The Gundam boys?" Arnaud raised an amused eyebrow. "As I said, these are very good, but a bit surprising. Your other sketches are so serious. I have to admit, though, these are good likenesses. You must have studied a lot of pictures of them to do these. Fan boy stuff, though."  
  
Heero glanced around. They were in one of the back rooms, and the shop assistants were still busy in the front. He pulled off the cap and wig and took off his glasses. Arnaud's look of slightly condescending amusement turned to chagrin.  
  
"Sorry! The blond hair really threw me off! I had no idea you were an artist."  
  
"I'm not," Heero said, feeling that strange, undefined embarrassment again. "I just enjoy drawing."  
  
"What sort of training have you had?"  
  
Heero didn't really feel like explaining about Odin Lowe and J. "None, except for what I needed during the war. I just do it."  
  
This seemed to impress Arnaud even more. "Then you're a natural talent. Some of these are good enough to show. DO you paint?"  
  
"No. Well, except for some mask work for the circus, but just some simple pieces."  
  
"You should consider pursuing this," Arnaud said, paging thoughtfully through the book. "I could suggest some art schools, if you like. You really do have talent, and a good eye for people. In so many of these, you've gotten beneath the surface to something real. I must say, and please don't take this the wrong way, but I really am surprised."  
  
Heero didn't feel like confiding all that Sally had told him about why the five of them were chosen as pilots. He just shrugged again, accepting the compliment. But as he walked back to the house afterwards, safely disguised again, he carried a list of art schools Arnaud had recommended. It was worth at least thinking about.  
  
He stopped in Jackson Square to do a few sketches of the street performers there, but Arnaud's comments had made him too self-conscious. The more he thought about trying to "see below the surface" as he'd put it, the less pleased he was with the work. At last he flipped the book shut in disgust and headed back to the house for lunch.   
  
Marie had left some sort of sausage and rice dish for him. Quatre and Trowa were out for the day and Duo was puttering in the workroom and Heero decided not to disturb him.   
  
The mail came as he ate and he gathered it from the front mat and carried it back to the kitchen table. There were a few bills, a circus arts magazine Trowa subscribed to, and a few junk mail ads. To his surprise, he also saw a long envelope addressed to him.   
  
It had been in transit for some time from the look of it. It was originally addressed care of the Sanque Embassy in Madrid, then forwarded to L-3, care of Quatre. From there it had been sent here. The original address was typed, but it didn't look like advertising. Assuming it was another piece of fan mail, he debated throwing it away, but curiosity got the better of him and he slit it open and pulled out a thick piece of triple folded paper.   
  
The smell hit him first: rank urine, garbage, and dirt-the stink of despair. The kitchen faded away and he was left in a dark place, too familiar place, where he was cold and hungry and so very lonely, but not alone. No, not alone, but surrounded by grasping hands and cruel eyes and crueler laughter . . . "  
_  
Looks just like him!  
  
Shit, close enough for me!  
  
Show him what getting fucked over feels like . . . _  
  
Hands on him, and he was too weak to fight them off. The taste of blood and fear in his mouth, and then worse. And pain.  
  
Heero forced his eyes open, forced himself to see the sunlight glancing off the polished copper pots on the wall and the colors of the little vase of flowers in front of him on the table. His hands shook badly as he made himself unfold the stained, torn scrapbook page. He recognized his own careful printing under the magazine photos carefully pasted there. "Feb. 13, 196: Duo at the Lido Club." "March 14, 196 T &Q dancing." "March 29, Duo, St. Martin's Hospital." He turned the page over, already seeing in his mind's eye the pictures there. He knew the scrapbook by heart. This was one of the early pages, from just a few months before he'd left Relena's detail and taken off on his own. It was just as he recalled, too, except for the new photo taped over the others, and a message scrawled across the page in red marker.   
  
_We knew it was you._  
  
He stared down at the picture of himself, emaciated and dirty, on his knees in a filthy place. There were two other people in the picture, two men visible from the chest down as they stood over him. One was twisting his arms behind his back, while the other held him by the hair with one hand, yanking him toward the swollen erection he held in the other. They'd already beaten him up; one eye was swollen shut and there was blood streaming from his nose and his cut lower lip. His mouth was closed in this shot, but it hadn't stayed that way. Memories rushed in and suddenly Heero found himself at the kitchen sink, helplessly heaving up his lunch.   
  
Only the thought of Duo finding him like this kept him on his feet long enough to rinse down the mess and stagger back to the table. He swallowed hard, mentally recoiling as he refolded the page, stuffed it back into the envelope, and hid it in his sketchbook.   
  
As he started for the stairs he heard the workroom door open down the hall. Without thinking why, he changed direction and went outside and used the exterior staircase to avoid meeting Duo. Somehow he made it up to the side bedroom he and Duo used for sex and shoved the sketchbook as far under the mattress as he arm could reach. Then he collapsed on the floor, head between his knees, as another wave of nausea swept over him, leaving a few more choice memories in its wake.   
__  
Hold him!  
  
Fuck, he's a fighter!  
  
Get those fucking pants down . . .  
  
And the pain, like red explosions behind his eyelids, and the stink of a stranger's body against his face.  
  
Heero curled around himself as the phantom of that pain overwhelmed him.   
  
"Hey Heero. Where are you, buddy?" Duo, downstairs in the courtyard.  
  
Heero couldn't answer. He wasn't certain what the answer was.


	60. Crash and Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero left the sketchbook under the mattress, unable to touch it again, or the nasty reminder from his past that it held. Duo sensed that something was wrong, and Quatre gave him a few odd looks, but Heero shrugged off their concern. It didn't matter. Whoever they were, his attackers, they'd seen him on the news, sent him their souvenir to hurt him, or to brag. It didn't matter. It was in the past. It had taken two months for their letter to even find him.   
  
It didn't matter.  
  
That's what he told himself. Just like he told himself that suddenly not wanting to have sex with Duo was just because he was tired and sad about the others leaving.   
  
That logic worked well enough for him to shake off the darkness lurking at the corners of his consciousness. It worked right up until the second letter arrived two days later, addressed to him here at the New Orleans house. Another page from the scrapbook. Another photo, this time of him being raped from behind. Another scrawled message: _"How you sleeping these days, Mr. War Hero?"_  
  
+  
  
Quatre was in the middle of a stage practice session with Trowa when the flash from Heero hit him. One moment he was on Trowa's shoulders, pushing up into a handstand; the next, he was on his hands and knees in a cold, stinking alleyway, being raped and sodomized while faceless strangers laughed and hit him and there were hands grasping at him and he was scared and furious and confused and in so much pain and someone was shaking him and shouting in his face . . .  
  
"Quatre! Quatre! Please, baby, open your eyes!"  
  
The smells and pain were gone as quickly as they'd come. He was curled in a ball, lying on his side on the stage, with his head in Trowa's lap. He rolled up on his hands and knees, only to be seized by a fit of nausea that left him retching helplessly. Trowa was there beside him when it stopped, wiping his mouth with a cloth and gathering him back into his arms to carry him away from the mess, all the while pleading with him to calm down and tell him what was wrong.   
  
Still badly confused, Quatre realized that he was crying and his throat and his left arm hurt. Catherine and the balancing act girls were standing around, looking horrorstruck, but not half so much as Trowa. He was white as a sheet and blood was streaming from his nose. He carried Quatre to one of the small stage platforms and sat down, still holding him close. "Corazon, what happened? Are you hurt? Talk to me, Quatre!"  
  
"Trowa, you're bleeding!"  
  
"It's nothing, mele. Are you OK?"  
  
Quatre tried to sit up, but was still too shaky. He flexed his arm and decided he'd only bruised it. "I fell?"  
  
"Jesus, yes! Everything was going fine, then you screamed and started flailing around up there in midair and came down on top of me . . . I thought-- I don't know what I thought! A seizure or something. But it was a flash, wasn't it?"   
  
The memory of it crowded in on him again. Quatre pressed his face to Trowa's sweaty chest and inhaled deeply, focusing on his husband's familiar scent to block out the horror of that alley. In his mind's eye, however, he saw those drawings of Heero's: the eyes and hands ones that had given him a taste of this same awful feeling. Panic returned, but this time it was for Heero. "We've got to get home. Now!"  
  
+  
  
The cab had hardly stopped moving before Quatre flew out and ran for the front door, still dressed only in his tight practice shorts and a few streaks of Trowa's blood. He'd elbowed him in the face, apparently. They got the bleeding stopped while they'd waited for the cab.   
  
"Heero! Duo, where are you?" he called, standing in the garden, hoping they could hear him from here.   
  
"Kitchen!" Duo shouted back.   
  
Trowa caught up with him and they ran to the kitchen door and found Duo on the floor by the table, holding Heero in his arms. Heero was curled tight in fetal position, arms locked around Duo's waist as the longhaired boy rocked. Heero was white as paper and sweating. Quatre saw with a pang that he was gripping the end of Duo's braid like a lifeline in one hand. He'd done the same that day in Madrid when they'd found him in the hospital.   
  
He fought to shield himself from Heero's emotions. Judging by the look of anguish on Duo's face, he needed to be in control and able to help the others.  
  
"What happened?" Trowa asked, kneeling beside them to stroke Heero's shoulder. Heero shuddered and flinched away, clinging more tightly to Duo.  
  
"I found him like this a little while ago. He hasn't said a word but I think he had a flashback," Duo answered in a shaky whisper.   
  
"He did," Quatre told him. "I saw."  
  
Heero groaned suddenly and reached out for him. Quatre knelt down and let Heero draw him into a bruising embrace.   
  
"I'm sorry, so sorry!" Heero hissed, burying his fingers in Quatre's hair.   
  
"Oh Heero, it wasn't your fault!" Quatre told him, stroking the fevered cheek next to his. "Did something happen?"  
  
Heero just shook his head, clutching him and Duo closer.  
  
Trowa bent and retrieved something from under the table. His back was turned, but Quatre heard and felt the sudden revulsion that went through him. White faced, Trowa turned and showed Quatre and Duo what appeared to be a page torn from a scrapbook. There were pictures of all of them, cut from magazines and print outs, but a photograph had been taped over the others, a picture of a very ragged, dirty, naked Heero Yuy being held down over an overturned garbage can while a man, visible only from the chest down, raped him. Quatre turned his face away, choking down a new wave of nausea. Trowa shoved the page under some magazines on the table and wiped his hands on his shorts as if the paper had soiled his hands.  
  
  
The three of them managed to get Heero upstairs and into the big bed, then climbed in with him. Duo sat up against the headboard, with Heero's head in his lap. Trowa and Quatre lay close on either side, arms securely around him.   
  
It was impossible to screen out all the roiling emotions coming from Heero, but Quatre fought hard to keep them down to a dull roar so he wouldn't have to withdraw.   
  
"It's like that morning after we played spin the bottle," Trowa mumbled, close to tears.   
  
"This is a lot worse!" said Duo, stroking Heero's unruly brown hair. He was crying, but his voice was rough with anger. "Jesus, I want to find those guys and rip their---"  
  
"Please, Duo, stay calm. That's not helping him now," Quatre warned, close to meltdown himself. He hadn't felt the attack Heero had suffered in Madrid that morning. This was a real flashback. He looked down into Heero's face. His eyes were squeezed shut again, face tight with pain, as if he was still under attack. "Heero, open your eyes. Come on, you're here with us. You're in New Orleans with us in our own bed. Please open your eyes."  
  
Heero drew a shuddering breath, then slowly did as he asked, but those dark blue eyes were unfocused and filled with pain. Bracing himself, Quatre reached out as much as he dared, then recoiled as the stink and cold and pain hit him like a blow. "Damn, I think he might be going into shock, or that fugue state."  
  
Duo let out a distressed hiss, then wiggled out from under Heero and went to rummage in the bottom drawer of his dresser. He came back a small brown eyedropper bottle.   
  
"What's that?" asked Trowa.  
  
"Thirty eight, courtesy of 05's secret stash," Duo replied grimly. "Heero, baby? I've got some medicine for you. Can you open your mouth for me? It's Duo-"   
  
"He's flashing to being raped, and in the mouth," Quatre warned, almost choking on the words.   
  
Duo stretched out across the head of the bed, face close to Heero's, and stroked his lover's face and hair. "Baby? 01? It's 02, baby. Copy that?"  
  
Heero blinked, trying hard to focus. "02?"  
  
"Yeah, 01. I've got some medicine for you. Just a drop, OK?"  
  
Heero didn't respond, but he didn't fight, either as Duo stroked the corner of his mouth, then slid the little glass dropper in and squeezed the rubber bulb. Heero coughed and sputtered, then went limp in Quatre's arms.  
  
"Fuck, Duo, how much did you give him?" Trowa demanded in alarm.  
  
Duo checked Heero's pupils and pulse. "He's fine. I did more of this shit than either of you, and I know how to dose it. I just gave him a little bit more, since he tends to fight off drugs."  
  
Trowa took the bottle and sniffed the contents. "You got this from Wufei?"  
  
"Uh, yeah." Duo gave him a chagrinned look. "Heero was on the warpath, cleaning out all his stashes. I kinda held this back, just in case."   
  
"In case of what?" Trowa growled. "If you've been doing this shit again, Duo, I'm going to---"  
  
"No way! I swear, Tro, really. See, the bottle's still almost full. I don't need this shit anymore, but it can be good medicine in a pinch, like now. I'd have held onto some of Wu's opium too, but Heero beat me to it."  
  
Trowa scowled at him a moment longer, then set the bottle aside on the nightstand and handed Duo his laptop. "We'll talk about this later. Contact Batoosingh. Now!"  
  
+  
  
Heero was out cold, safe from bad dreams for the moment. Duo made Quatre check twice, then sat down in a chair by the bed and keyed in Dr. Batoosingh's private number. It was after hours on L-2, but he knew the doctor wouldn't care. He heaved a small sigh of relief as Batoosingh's concerned face appeared on his screen.  
  
"Duo, are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah, but Heero isn't. He's finally remembering what happened to him and it's worse than I thought." Wincing inwardly, he filled him in as much as he could, then held up the scrapbook page for him to see.   
  
Batoosingh nodded. "It is consistent with the medical findings. Where is he now?"  
  
Duo held the screen to show him Heero in the bed with the others. "He was really out of it. Here, but not here, if you know what I mean. I--uh, well, I didn't have anything else so I have him a little THC-38."  
  
Batoosingh's eyebrows arched disapprovingly. "Should I ask why you have that?"  
  
"If you're going to kick my ass, get in line. Tro's got dibs. But it calmed him down, and got him out of the flashback."  
  
"I will fax down a prescription for something better. Don't give him any more of that."  
  
"But it worked," Duo maintained stubbornly. "I've been where he is, remember? None of the rest of you has. I didn't want him stuck in that place, not even just in his head!"  
  
"I understand, but I'd rather have you use a legal, controlled substance with a known dosage level," Batoosingh said firmly.   
  
"Fine, whatever!" Duo grumbled. "Should we get him into a hospital? He really hates them, but--"  
  
"See how he is when he wakes up. If he's coherent, I'll speak with him directly. Call me immediately, no matter the hour. Now let me speak with Trowa or Quatre, please."  
  
Trowa heard and took the computer from him. Batoosingh said something and Trowa nodded, then carried the laptop out onto the balcony and closed the door.  
  
Angry, Duo climbed back into bed and pulled Heero in his arms again. Quatre said nothing, just leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
"I had to do something!" Duo whispered, stroking Heero's sweaty hair back from his forehead. "I couldn't just leave him like that! It'll take hours to get a prescription filled and half the time that shit doesn't work on him anyway!"  
  
"I know," Quatre murmured, stroking Duo's hair and shoulder. "I think you just scared Tro, that's all. And you know why, too."  
  
Duo sighed. "Yeah, I guess, but he's still pretty pissed at me."  
  
"He'll get over it. Just focus on Heero for now. Be here for him."  
  
Duo rested his cheek against Heero's head. "Yeah, I can do that."  
  
+  
  
Heero woke slowly, aware of little except the fact that Duo was holding him close. Opening his eyes, he saw with confusion that it was night and that he was in bed with his clothes on.   
  
"Hey, buddy, back with us now?" Duo said, giving him a kiss. He was dressed to.   
  
"What's going on?" Heero muttered, sitting up and scratching his head. It ached. He hated sleeping during the day. The last thing he remembered was being in the kitchen, looking at the mail . . .  
  
He made it into the bathroom and fell to his knees at the toilet, retching miserably.   
  
The photo. A second photo. To _this_ address! Panic boiled up again, and cold sweat broke out down his back. He could smell sour fear on his skin. 'I'm strong now!' he told himself angrily. 'I'm sane and I have a gun. No one will ever do that to me again!'  
  
But it didn't help much. It didn't stop him from slumping over the toilet seat and bursting into tears. His body remembered, as much as his mind. He could still feel the pain, the blood on his thighs, the blows and the taste of unwashed flesh forced into his mouth.   
  
"Heero?" Duo was hovering behind him, knowing better than to approach him without warning.   
  
"It's--it's OK." It wasn't, far from it, but he didn't know what else to say. But he wasn't out of control. He wasn't dangerous. Duo could touch him. That's all he wanted to say.   
  
Duo understood, of course. He helped Heero up, helped him rinse his mouth and wash his face and stagger back to the bed, then held him as he sobbed out what he could of the pain. When it was over, Heero sat on the edge of the mattress, hands clenched between his knees to still the shaking there. He'd had flashes before-the first time he and Duo attempted anal sex, that morning in the hospital lounge bathroom, when he'd realized he'd made Duo bleed //like I bled!//, that first night here in New Orleans when they'd all sucked each other off in the alley. He'd flashed a little then, but been too drunk and horny to understand. But this, this was bad. The lid was off now, the scabs ripped away, and he was going to remember what had happened whether he wanted to or not. It was already there, in bits and fragments, crystallizing around those two photos.   
  
"Where are they?" he asked dully, hating the way he smelled. Sweat and fear and the undertone of something else.  
  
"Trowa's down making supper. I think Kat's helping . . ."  
  
"No! The pictures."  
  
Duo knelt in front of him and clasped his hands. "You mean there was more than one? You had one in the kitchen with you when I found you today. Was there another?"  
  
Heero sagged. "Yes. The first one came two days ago. It's--it's in a sketchbook under the mattress in the other room."  
  
Duo's brows drew together dangerously. "Two days ago? Heero, why didn't you say something?"  
  
"I don't know." It was true, although he knew how absurd it seemed on the surface. "I just didn't want--I don't know."  
  
Still kneeling between Heero's knees, Duo wrapped his arms around his waist and held him. "It's OK, baby. I understand."  
  
Heero found the braid, pulled the tie free and loosened the hair so he could bury his face in it. Duo smelled so good, so clean. It made Heero feel even filthier. "I need a shower."  
  
"Want me to come in with you?" Duo offered, voice muffled against Heero's chest.  
  
Heero thought about that. "Yes."  
  
+  
  
Trowa and Quatre were waiting for them in the bedroom when they came out of the shower. A tray on the bed held bowls of chicken chow mein and rice and a pot of tea.   
  
Heero's stomach was acid and uneasy, but the salty food settled it down. He ate lightly, trying to ignore the concerned looks the others were giving him. He was supposed to be the strong one, the perfect soldier. He didn't like being seen to break down. Especially over something that had happened over a year ago, something that couldn't be changed.  
  
"Batoosingh wants you to call," Trowa said as he finished eating.  
  
"It's late there. I'll call him tomorrow."   
  
"No. Now." He pushed his laptop across the bed to him and Heero saw he already had the vid link cued. "He wanted to talk to you right away."  
  
"I'm fine," Heero insisted, oddly reluctant to speak with the doctor.   
  
Duo reached over and massaged his shoulder. "Come on, baby, he sounded . . ."  
  
"NO!" Then Heero was on his feet, looking down at the broken bowls and wrecked computer, wondering what the hell had happened. Someone had shouted. Quatre was at the bedroom door, Trowa at the balcony door and both looked ready for trouble, but they were looking at him. Duo was still on the bed, looking up at him with a mix of concern and alarm.  
  
'I did that,' Heero though unhappily, looking down at the broken computer. Duo's computer. "I'm sorry. I'll get you another one."  
  
"It's OK, Heero. I don't care about that. But I'm going to go get yours now and you _are_ going to talk to Batoosingh. Copy that?"  
  
Heero hung his head. "I copy."  
  
+  
  
Heero got the others to leave him alone in the parlor before he called Batoosingh, but with the understanding that one of them would be stationed outside the door if he needed them. He'd also overheard Duo telling Trowa about the other photo. They'd retrieve it, he supposed, but he didn't want to see it, or smell it, again. The second one had had that same stench about it, too. That, as much as the picture, had set him off.  
  
With a sigh, he made the call. Batoosingh answered at once, looking as if he'd been expecting him.   
  
"Heero, how are you feeling now?"  
  
"Better."  
  
"That's a relative assessment, I'm sure. I've faxed down a prescription---"  
  
"I don't need drugs. I will get past this on my own."  
  
"I doubt that, Heero, but we can stick with therapy for the time being, if the others feel you are not in any danger. Tell me, are you suicidal? Any ideation on self harm?"  
  
"No, none. I would like to kill the men who hurt me, though."  
  
Batoosingh smiled. "That's actually a good sign, although I do hope you will not attempt to act on that."  
  
"I don't know where they are," Heero informed him flatly.  
  
"Lucky for them, I'd say. Can you talk about this?"  
  
"I don't want to."  
  
"That's not what I asked, though, is it? You need to talk about this to someone. It's like lancing a boil to drain the poison from the body. I suggest you begin with me, as it will be very painful for your friends to listen, though I'm certain they are willing."  
  
"I just want to forget about it!" There was the anger again. Heero clenched his hands together. "I--I don't want to remember letting anyone do those things to me!"  
  
"Is that how you recall it?"  
  
Heero glanced up in irritation. "What?"  
  
"You just said you let them do that to you. I find that hard to believe."  
  
"I--That is--" To Heero's horror, he felt tears welling in his eyes again. He rubbed at them and blinked hard, trying to get himself under control. "I should have been able to stop them."  
  
"You were very ill, mentally and physically. Given what I know of you, if you had been able to stop them, you most certainly would have. Therefore, you must have been too ill to defend yourself. Tell me, what have you actually remembered so far?"  
  
Heero told him as quickly and sparingly as possible. Batoosingh looked thoughtful when he was done, and seemed to be making some notes.  
  
"What if that German reporter was right?" Heero muttered.  
  
Batoosingh looked momentarily at a loss.  
  
"At the press conference in Madrid. A man named Meir claimed to have evidence that I'd been a prostitute. What if that is true, doctor? That would have been 'letting' men do that to me, wouldn't it?"  
  
"DO you think you were a prostitute?"  
  
Heero fisted his hands in his hair. "I don't remember! I was broke, hungry, out of my head. Maybe I did! They said--I remember them saying that they--- did what they did because I looked like-They didn't know it was me, they just thought I looked like me. They could have been ex-Alliance, or people whose relatives I killed. There are plenty of people on Earth with good reason to hate me, doctor. Enough to want to hurt me that way."  
  
"Are you saying that you deserved to be raped, Heero, because of what you did during the war?"  
  
Heero stared down at his bare feet.  
  
"But as far as they knew it wasn't really you, just someone who looked like you, is that correct."  
  
"They know now."  
  
"I saw the message they wrote on that scrapbook page."  
  
"There was another one, two days ago. They wrote 'We knew it was you' on that one."  
  
"I see. Yet that doesn't seem to match up with your memories."  
  
"Can I trust my memory?"  
  
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'm not sure it matters. Those men used you as an object of their anger. You were raped, badly hurt, and made to feel helpless. That is a terrible thing for anyone to endure, but there are additional issues when it happens to a man, even a gay man. Rape has nothing to do with sex, really, and everything to do with power. They took away your power. I would even go so far as to say that your case is more unique than most, considering who you perceived yourself to be."  
  
"You speak of me in the past tense."  
  
"I think the Heero Yuy of the war days is in the past. You've as much as told me that in our sessions. Have you changed your mind about that?"  
  
Anger surged again. "I don't know!" Heero growled. "I am who I am! I need to understand how I could let something like that happen to me!"  
  
"It wasn't your fault, Heero. Rape is never the victim's fault. But that's the second time you've used language that tells me you are blaming yourself. You did not allow it, Heero, I promise you. It was an attack. If we were talking about a suit battle, and you'd been wounded, you wouldn't blame yourself, would you?"  
  
"I would have failed in my mission, if I'd been unable to defend myself to that extent."  
  
Batoosingh blinked. "I see. But you were not on a mission when you were raped."  
  
"Yes, I was," Heero replied softly. "I gave myself the mission to-To--" He sighed. "I was on a mission not to hurt my friends because I was crazy."  
  
"Was not being hurt yourself a parameter of this mission?"  
  
Heero stared at the man on the screen. "My personal safety was never a parameter of any mission."  
  
"Then how could you fail by being hurt?"  
  
"I don't know if you can help me with this, doctor. You don't understand."  
  
"I do, Heero, better than you do. I've worked with many rape victims, male and female. This won't go away until you stop blaming yourself. I'm going to speak to Duo and the others about this, too. They need to be aware of your state of mind. I will not share other details, but they do need to know that."  
  
"I don't care what you tell them. I have no secrets from them," Heero shot back sourly.  
  
"I'm glad you're with them, Heero, and glad you feel you can talk openly to them. I would like to speak with you on a daily basis for the next few days, if that's agreeable. Or you could come here and see me on an outpatient basis."  
  
"No, vid phone is fine."  
  
"Good, then I'll have you contact my secretary for scheduling. There's one other thing, though, that I think you should be aware of. This will be hard on your friends, and especially so on Duo for several reasons. He loves you very much, and had depended on you often to be the strong one. You need that from him now, because you love him. But he's also a rape victim, and he's avoided dealing with those memories as much as possible. He will want to help you, but there may be times when he can't. Don't let that scare you. He won't stop loving you over this."  
  
Heero let out a short, barking laugh. "I would never think that! Duo has his problems, I know, but he'd not small-minded."  
  
"I know that. But he may get scared, make bad decisions. He's already made one that I know of, with the THC."  
  
"The _what?_ " Heero stared at him in shock.   
  
"It was a decent short term fix, but it could aggravate your depression if used long term--"   
  
+  
  
Duo was on door duty when it flew open. Heero was dry-eyed now, but pretty grim. "Duo, come in, please." Duo stepped inside, concerned. Heero closed it firmly and folded his arms. "Did you take a bottle of THC-38 from Wufei's apartment?"  
  
Duo's heart missed a beat. "Um--yeah."  
  
"Did you give me that drug this afternoon?"  
  
Duo felt his fists clenching. "Yes. You were freaking out, going fugue on us--"  
  
Heero moved so fast Duo never had a chance. He had time to register the look of naked shock on his lover's face, then he was being yanked across the room to the overstuffed antique couch. Heero pulled him down across his lap, twisted Duo's right arm up behind his back, then just started whaling away on his ass, hard open handed smacks that hurt like crazy even through his jeans.  
  
"Don't you ever, _ever_ give me illegal drugs again!" Heero shouted, and the tone of his voice hurt as much as the spanking.   
  
"I was only trying to help you!" Duo yelled, struggling to free himself. Heero was furious, out of control, and Duo was as much scared as pissed. But guilty, too, he had to admit.   
  
Heero shoved him off his lap, then slid down to kneel in front of him, grasping him by the shoulders. "Why, Duo? Why did you take a bottle of that shit, after we agreed that we'd destroy it all?"  
  
"I didn't use any!" Duo snarled through his tears. Damn, his ass hurt! "Jesus, Heero, you know I haven't!"  
  
"Why did you keep it?"  
  
"I don't know! Old habits? Fuck, that stuff is expensive--"  
  
Heero released him and buried his face in his hands, shaking badly. "You gave it to me?"  
  
"Heero, I'm sorry, OK? I was just trying to stop you being in pain like that! I could tell how bad it was, and Quatre? He picked up on it from across town in the middle of practice with Tro and practically broke his arm. I just--I was scared for you! I couldn't stand having you feel like that!"  
  
Heero took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up. His eyes were huge, and full of confusion. "The drugs don't make anything go away. They just keep you from dealing with it. I don't want them, Duo. If I have to feel this, then I will. You can be there for me, if you want to, but not that way!"  
  
A hitching sob caught in Duo's throat. He threw himself into Heero's arms, clinging to him. "Whaddya mean 'if'? I'm here for you, Heero. I screwed up, but I won't again, I promise. Let me help you. Don't keep me away, please!"  
  
Strong arms wrapped around him, pulled him close. Heero held him and Duo's fear subsided a little, just enough for the guilt to creep in. He was supposed to be comforting Heero, not adding to the problem. Fuck, what had he been thinking? He pulled back enough to get his arms around Heero.  
  
"I won't screw up again, Heero. I swear to you. You can count on me, really. I promise! Don't go away again!" Oops, that just kinda slipped out from nowhere, that great big lurking secret fear of his.   
  
"Go away?" Heero's arms tightened around him. "Oh baby, no! I'll never do that! No matter what. I won't do that to you again!"   
  
"Promise!"  
  
"I promise."  
  
"Swear!"  
  
"I swear to you, Duo, I won't go away. I won't leave you."  
  
"Everyone else I loved did!" Duo blurted out, hating himself for laying this on Heero now but helpless to shut the fuck up. "Oh shit! This is so fucked up! I'm sorry, Heero. I really can be strong for you, I'm just-just--"  
  
"I know," Heero soothed, sounding a lot saner that Duo did right now. "I know you're there for me. I never doubt that. I know this is hard for you, because of what happened to you, when you were a kid and when I was gone. I understand, Duo. I promise I won't leave. Not ever."  
  
"Thanks!" Duo sighed, wiping his face on the shoulder of Heero's tee shirt. "Man, we're some pair, huh?"  
  
"Yes, we are. Come back to bed? I need to hold you. Later, we'll figure out what to do about this."  
  
"I thought you and Dr. B had that worked out."  
  
Heero shook his head. "I mean about the bastards sending me mail. Duo, they know our address."


	61. Crash and Burn Con't.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo was running on autopilot as he got Heero through the shower safely, and into bed, but he was with it enough to know that his lover wasn't firing on all cylinders yet, either. Heero had been strangely docile since and was acting more needy than Duo had ever seen him as he washed and dried him, then guided him naked back into the bed in the side room. They talked, but Heero didn't ask about the picture that had been hidden there; Duo had seen Trowa retrieve something from the room. Duo didn't want to see any more than he had. The one they'd found in the kitchen had been horrible, obscene.   
_  
//Hey, you knew from the medical report what probably happened, right?//_ Duo told himself as panic threatened to overwhelm him, but that didn't help. Knowing wasn't the same as seeing. He could only guess what it must have been for Heero, having all of them see that damned photo, too. He knew how he'd have felt if someone had come up with color glossies of him bent over the hood of that car on L-2.  
  
The bad feelings this dredged up mingled with his grief for Heero and quickly combusted into barely contained rage. Shinigami was going to come out of retirement; that was for fucking certain. He was going to find the bastards who'd done this and kill them. If they were already dead, he'd dig them up and kill them all over again.  
  
He didn't hold the spanking against Heero. Hell, Heero had only beaten Trowa to it. He wrapped himself around Heero, who was still disturbingly withdrawn, and rubbed his back until he was sure he was asleep. Lying there, staring at the shadows on the walls, Duo listened to his lover's breathing, felt the steady thud of Heero's heart against his own, and plotted revenge.  
  
Heero fell asleep, but it was restless. He twitched and muttered, caught in some nightmare. It occurred to Duo that in the months they'd been sleeping together, Heero had seldom shown any sign of bad dreams. Duo stroked him calm, then dozed off himself, but less than an hour had passed when Heero woke in a real panic, flailing blindly for the light.  
  
"It's OK, 01! I've got ya!" Duo told him, finding the switch on his side of the bed. Heero was staring up at him, eyes wide and filled with pain again. "What's wrong, baby?"   
  
"Turn over," Heero said in a strangled whisper that sent a renewed chill of fear through Duo.  
  
"I'm not really in the mood, babe, and I don't think you are, either."  
  
Heero shook his head sharply, dark bangs falling over his eyes. "No, not for that. I need to see!"  
  
Ah, that, thought Duo. "It's OK, Heero. Lie down--"  
  
"No!" Heero tugged at Duo's arm. He looked a little disoriented, and Duo realized that the drug had probably still been in Heero's system when they'd talked before. Heero pulled at his arm again. "I have to check you for--Oh, please, Duo, let me!"  
  
Duo reluctantly turned his back to Heero and let him pull the blankets aside to inspect his ass.   
  
"Oh god!"  
  
"It's OK, Heero."  
  
"No, it's not! I marked you!"   
  
Duo twisted around to look. There were a few fresh bruised and red marks, but nothing serious, and certainly nothing to compare to what Heero had done for him in the past. He turned over and tried to hold him, but Heero was pushing away, drawing himself up into a tight little ball of misery at the edge of the bed. "You've done it before--"  
  
"Not like that!" Heero was crying again, hands fisted in the sheet in his lap, his face a study in self-loathing. "I lost control. I struck in anger. I hit _you_ in anger! God, oh god!" He tried to get out of bed but Duo caught him and hauled him back in. Heero was wound up good and tight again; it was like trying to hug a wooden armchair, but he managed to hold on long enough to get him calmed down a little.  
  
"Duo, I'm sorry. So sorry!" Heero clung to him again, racked with hoarse, wrenching sobs. "Please, don't ever give me any drugs again. It's like before, at Relena's. They don't help. They just make me worse!"  
  
"Oh shit!" The docs in Madrid had said Heero's metabolism wasn't exactly textbook normal. "Oh Jesus, Heero, I'm sorry, I just wanted to make you feel better."  
  
"No excuse!" Heero groaned, and Duo knew he was talking of his own guilt, not Duo's. "How could I do that? To you!"  
  
"I did sorta deserve-"  
  
Heero caught him by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "Don't ever tell me that! Not about something like this. Don't you ever let yourself believe it. I crossed a line I told myself I never would with you. I didn't like Trowa spanking you, even though you asked him to. And now look what I did! Don't you see? This is why I left that other time, why I thought I had to stay away. If I get out of control like I was today, you see how dangerous I can be, even to you?"  
  
Duo grabbed him and gave him a shake. "Enough, Heero! You'd just had one helluva shock, and after sitting on another one for a couple of days without saying anything to anyone. You were already half out of it from the flashbacks, and then I gave you another jolt, and under the influence, too. And it was pretty fucking stupid of me to swipe that shit in the first place, no matter what my reasons were. And it was stupid of me to use it like medicine, even if it did sorta work. How you reacted under the influence wasn't your fault, and if you say any more about this I'm gonna get violent on _your_ ass, copy?"  
  
Heero wasn't convinced, but he shut up and let Duo lie down and hold him again. "I'm not that easy to hurt, Heero, and I'm not a doormat or anyone's punching bag, either. When you cross the line with me I'll let you know. Got it? _I'll_ tell you, not Kat or Tro or anyone else. I may be a little fucked in the head about a few things, but I'm still Shinigami and no one abuses me without my permission. Copy that?"  
  
"I didn't ask your permission--"  
  
"Doesn't count this time. I said, 'Copy that?', 01."  
  
"Talk to Batoosingh with me tomorrow. If he says this is a healthy arrangement, I will agree."  
  
"Deal." Duo tightened his arms around Heero. "I love you, Heero. I can see how you're hurting. I don't expect you to be perfect. I never did. You're too good as it is, without laying that on you." He took Heero's hand and brought it up to the Shiva's Eye pendant. His own fears were creeping back in. "Please, Heero. Don't let this shit from your past make you forget what we have together."  
  
"No, never!" He stroked Duo's cheek with his fingertips, then gathered a handful of Duo's hair, still loose around them on the pillows, and held it to his own cheek, like a kid's security blanket. His eyes fluttered shut and Duo's throat went all tight with emotion, seeing the effect something as simple as his own presence could have on this guy he loved so much. After a moment Heero mumbled, "I just don't want to be the one to ruin it. No more drugs."  
  
"No more drugs, baby. But you're going to talk to me, and you're going to talk to Batoosingh, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"OK. Y'know, I'm betting Kat and Tro are kinda worried down there."  
  
Heero frowned. "They're not at the show? It's a show night."  
  
Duo rolled his eyes and kissed Heero's forehead. "No, they've got understudies for a reason, right? Family emergency. Tro's taking care of all that. And Quatre banged his arm up-" If he could have figured out how to bite off his own tongue, he'd have done it.  
  
Heero lurched up again. "Quatre's hurt? What did I do? When?"  
  
"He fell at practice, that's all." It was enough of the truth, and it sure as hell wasn't Heero's fault. Heero would put two and two together later, but for now it was enough. "We can just stay here like this, if you want, but I bet they'd like to say good night, at least."   
  
The four of them ultimately ended up together in the big bed again, and Quatre had to play down the sizeable bruise on his left elbow, and even did a handstand on Trowa's shoulders for them to prove that he wasn't incapacitated.   
  
"But it could have been much worse!" Heero pointed out glumly.  
  
Quatre climbed into bed again and let Heero hold him. "It could have, but it wasn't, and now I know to shield myself from your thoughts. But I'm glad I knew when you needed help. I wouldn't change that, Heero. We'll just have to be aware of it, that's all. But this situation isn't going to last, either."  
  
"No, it won't." Trowa settled in behind Quatre and reached across to stroke Heero's forehead.  
  
Spooned in behind Heero, Duo exchanged a look with him. A mission look. Trowa knew about revenge and about settling scores. And he'd probably already figured out what Heero had had to point out to Duo; the bastards knew where they lived.  
  
"What about Wufei and Zechs?" Quatre asked. "They're arriving in a couple of days unless we warn them off. What do you say, Heero?"  
  
"I'm not sure yet. I think Wufei might be offended, or even hurt, if we keep this from him entirely. And he might be of use, too, with his Preventer connections. The postmarks--" Heero made a distasteful face. "I-I was so upset the other day I didn't even check, or today either. Did you see where the letters were sent from?"  
  
"Someplace called Kisarazu, in Japan," Trowa told him. "Do you remember being there?"  
  
"No. I hardly remember being in Japan."  
  
"Yeah, well some part of the Yuy mission mind musta been clicking," Duo said. "I'm betting you went there because your looks wouldn't attract as much attention there."  
  
"Possibly. If so, the plan was flawed, since I attacked bases in Japan." He sighed, nestling down between Duo and Quatre. "Tomorrow, when my mind is clearer."  
  
"Don't worry, Heero. We're going to make this stop," Trowa told him.  
  
Heero nodded and closed his eyes, looking too weary for words. "The show must go on, Trowa."  
  
Trowa gave him a puzzled look. "What show?"  
  
"Your show. This can't interfere with the tour."  
  
"Fuck the tour, Heero, this is-"  
  
Without opening his eyes, Heero found Trowa's shoulder and squeezed it. "Tomorrow. We'll come up with a plan tomorrow. I'm just grateful you're all here right now. I love you, all of you."  
  
Quatre blinked back tears. "We're family, Heero. We'll always be there for you."


	62. China Doll Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Zechs glanced at the bathroom door, feeling more nervous then he had in a very long time. After all, it wasn't really fair to hold a lover to commitments made in the blissful afterglow of orgasm.   
  
"You like it, that I dress you?" Spooned in behind Wufei a few nights earlier, bodies glued together with sweat and semen, Zechs had savored the erotic shiver his words, and the tickle of his lips against the back of Wufei's neck caused. "It turns you on."  
  
"Mmmmmm, yes!" At that moment Wufei was wearing nothing but the skin tight, midriff-baring green shirt he'd worn to go out dancing that night. It was pushed up under his armpits at the moment and didn't cover much, but technically, he wasn't naked. It was becoming something of a game with them.   
  
Dancing had gone very well; Wufei had been his usual reserved self on the dance floor, letting Zechs hold him close, but not encouraging too much groping in public. But he'd enjoyed himself, there was no mistaking that. They'd started making out a little in the car in the dark parking garage afterwards, and barely made it into the bedroom before they were pulling each other's clothes off.   
  
Wufei sighed, snuggling closer, with his bare backside against Zechs's spent cock. He had no idea the risk he was running by doing that, even now. They were still keeping to caresses and blowjobs, with no penetration, but Wufei's orgasms were explosive, and always left him languid and cuddly-- and often soon ready for more. Truly, he was incomparable.   
  
Zechs rewarded him with a kiss on the nape of his neck. "You feel different in the clothes I choose for you, don't you? Tell me, how do they make you feel?"  
  
Wufei turned in Zechs's arms, pressing the taller man onto his back and stretching out on top of him. He ran his fingers through the damp hair at Zechs's temples, his black eyes dreamy. "It's like having your hands all over my body, even when you're not touching me. I feel very pampered, and--" Even in the candlelight, Zechs could see him blush, but those lush lips curved into a deliciously wanton smile. "Sometimes I really do feel like your 'sizzling hot bottom boy.'"  
  
Zechs cupped Wufei's taut buttocks and kneaded them appreciatively. "You are my absolutely perfect little bottom boy, mei, and I love you beyond all reason."  
  
As always, such declarations earned him the glimmer of happy tears and kisses all over his face and chest. Laughing, Zechs rolled him over and pinned him to the bed to get his attention again. "Do you trust me, Wufei?"  
  
"Of course!" But there it was, that hint of fear in those bottomless dark eyes.  
  
"Would you like to try wearing something more adventurous? Something very different than I would ever have you wear in public, just for me in the bedroom?"  
  
Those eyes went very wide and Wufei caught a hitching breath but it wasn't fear, now. "Yes!"  
  
"That's my good boy." Zechs had to kiss him again, tasting himself deep in that oh so very talented mouth. Wufei was still far too naive to imagine all that he might have just committed himself to. Zechs's own commitment to protecting the boy from Zechs's own baser desires was a turn-on in itself. Who said chivalry was dead? "I'll surprise you sometime, then. A special treat for both of us."  
  
The mere suggestion of it had been enough to get them both up a second time that night, and they'd sixty-nined like two wild, rutting animals and come moaning each other's names around each other's cocks.   
  
Zechs had enjoyed watching Wufei's anticipation build over the next few days. He gave no hint of what the "special outfit" would be, leaving it to Wufei's imagination. He debated waiting until they were in New Orleans, and making it a birthday present, but he wasn't at all certain what his welcome would be there, and didn't want his little experiment spoiled by any outside tension. It was enough of a risk as it was. No, better here in the privacy of their own bedroom where Wufei had already learned to feel safe.  
  
Yes, tonight was the night, and Zechs's heart was beating fast as he sat on the edge of the bed, waiting nervously for Wufei's reaction and trying very hard not to touch himself through the tight white military breeches he'd worn for the occasion. He was still as lanky as he'd been when he'd last worn them, and was glad to see he'd regained enough muscle to fill them out properly. His tall black dress boots still fit, too. The long red jacket open over his bare torso was trimmed with gold braid, but it was only a clever approximation of his OZ uniform. He wasn't sure if the Gundam pilot would appreciate that or not, but he knew Wufei liked him in red.   
  
The room was more brightly lit than usual. Without saying anything to Wufei, he'd slowly been adding a few more candles each night, so that now the room was warmly illuminated. He was glad of it when at last Wufei emerged from the shelter of the bathroom. Zechs caught his breath, already dangerously aroused, even from across the room. Wufei looked uncertain, ready to bolt back into the small room behind him, but he'd really had worn it, all of it! Zechs had half-expected him to balk, or even storm out angrily when he saw what was in the gift-wrapped box. Instead, there he stood, uncertain perhaps, maybe even embarrassed, but clearly not angry.  
  
The self-supporting black silk stockings ended in wide lace bands just below the curve of Wufei's buttocks. The lacy black satin thong was just visible through the frothy little black apron tied around his waist with a red velvet band. The apron was very short, and made of flaring layers of soft black mesh, spangled with dark sequins that twinkled in the candlelight. Above this he wore a specially tailored black satin and lace bra. The cups were cut low enough to show the tops of his dusky pink nipples and padded to suggest the slightest swell of bosom, without disguising the fact that he was a boy. Fingerless black satin gloves covered his slender arms to just above the elbows. A tiny golden puffed heart on a pink and gold ribbon around Wufei's neck completed the outfit perfectly. Standing there by the doorway, eyes downcast, hair loose over his shoulders, he was a femboy wet dream come to life. The knowledge that he was not in the least effeminate only made the whole effect more striking.  
  
Zechs slowly crossed the room, but stopped a few feet away, still gauging his lover's reaction. Wufei's eyes were downcast, but when Zechs gently cupped his chin and raised his face, he saw with another aching stab of desire that Wufei had added a few touches of his own.   
  
His eyes were carefully highlighted with dark eyeliner, and he'd painted his lips into a tempting cupid's bow with dark red lipstick. The fact that he'd had such unexpected supplies at the ready showed a very encouraging initiative. Zechs smirked, recalling a side trip during one of their excursions to town. He should have guessed Wufei was up to something, but this was the last thing he'd have imagined. Yet it seemed that even without knowing what Zechs was up to, he'd wanted to wear make up for him. Perhaps because he'd seen his friends do the same? Maxwell carried it off particularly well, Zechs recalled, even better than Winner did.   
  
He leaned in and kissed those ruby red lips, running his fingers over Wufei's bare shoulders and down over the black gloves to his hands. Wufei's fingers were slender, beautiful, and quite feminine looking in the gloves, but callused-- soldier's hands. Zechs reluctantly released them, still fighting not to come to the keen edge of arousal too quickly. He wanted this to last for both of them.   
  
Stepping back, he turned Wufei slowly around, drinking in the sight of that perfect little backside so enticingly framed by lace and velvet. The apron ties brushed the cleft between those cheeks, already bisected by the tiny black string of the satin thong. "What a stunningly beautiful boy you are, my little Chang!"  
  
Wufei said nothing, just tilted his head, offering the smooth column of his throat. Zechs tangled his fingers in the silken hair at the back of Wufei's neck and pulled him close, nipping and sucking his way up and down between the earlobe and shoulder and flicking the golden heart pendant with his tongue. Wufei gasped softly and rested his hands on Zechs's waist under his coat to steady himself.   
  
"Do you like your surprise?" He licked the delicate whorls of Wufei's left ear.   
  
"Ooooh! Oh yes! You're so damn handsome! But I-- Is this--?"  
  
"I could come just looking at you, mei!" His erection was straining the buttoned flap at the front of his pants. Wufei reached to stroke it but Zechs caught his hand and returned it to his side. "But I don't want to. Not yet." He kissed those painted lips again, then sank to his knees, kissing his way down that taut belly to the velvet waistband. Ever so slowly he lifted the folds and layers of the apron out of the way, directing Wufei to hold the fabric up for him. Then he rubbed his cheek against the satin and lace-clad erection beneath. The pink, weeping tip had pushed past the waistband and he allowed himself a quick taste, just a swipe of the tongue that made Wufei gasp again and his knees wobble. His nipples had stiffened to hard little points above the edge of the bra; Zechs reached up to pinch them as he licked the tip of Wufei's cock again, delighting in the salty sweetness there.  
  
"Oh god!" Wufei hissed. "Oh Zechs! It's so good!"  
  
"Yes, you are," Zechs chuckled. He pinched those nipples a bit harder and gave them a slight tweak. Wufei gasped and shivered. More precum welled up from that tiny slit and Zechs lapped up every drop, probing a little as he did so and slipping a hand between those tensed thighs to palm Wufei's balls through the thong.   
  
"Ayyyyy! I'm going to come!" Wufei whispered, burying both hands in Zechs's hair.  
  
"No, you're not. Not until I give you permission. Do you understand me, little Chang?"  
  
"I can't help it!" That was nearly a whine!  
  
"Yes, you can," Zechs ordered. "You are strong. You are disciplined. You will wait until I give my permission."   
  
Wufei swallowed hard, but nodded. Such a good little soldier.  
  
Still kneeling, he clasped Wufei by the hips under the apron and turned him, making him brace his hands against the wall by the door. The boy had to bend forward slightly to obey and this left his bottom more exposed than ever. As always, he kept his thighs close together, but bent forward as he was now, that wasn't much protection. Those firm round buttocks were already slightly parted, showing Zechs how the thin thong pressed between them. He spent some time kissing those creamy golden cheeks, then added a few nips and bites to the mix as Wufei softly moaned and squirmed under his hands. Oh yes, he liked this, all right: the outfit, the caresses, the position Zechs had put him in. Zechs's budding little bottom boy loved it all, and so did Zechs. Kneeling there behind him, he slipped a finger under the elastic cloth and pulled it aside, exposing the tiny pink virgin opening underneath for the first time. He flicked the red velvet apron ties, letting them tickle there. It was beautiful, a perfect rosebud, untouched.  
  
Wufei moaned and buried his face in his arms. Of course, this only left him more exposed, Zechs noted with amusement. He could see enough of Wufei's face to know that it had gone scarlet.  
  
He slipped a hand between Wufei's knees and gently tried to get him to spread his feet apart. Wufei resisted, but Zechs stroked his back and bottom with his other hand and kissed the backs of his thighs, coaxing silently until Wufei relented a little, face hidden more deeply than ever against his gloved forearms. Zechs wished he had a camera to capture this scene.  
  
"I'm not going to fuck you," he assured him, as he always did before attempting something new. Instinct told him Wufei was still very fearful of that. He'd gifted Zechs with his trust their first night together and he'd been very careful not to betray it, even inadvertently.  
  
Pulling the thong aside a bit more, but in such a way that left Wufei's cock and balls still fully covered, Zechs leaned forward and ran his tongue down the cleft of his buttocks from tailbone to the just barely revealed back of his scrotum, pausing just an instant at his entrance.   
  
"Oh god!" Wufei cried out and turned to look down at him with startled, wide eyes. "What are you _doing?"_  
  
"Enjoying the most beautiful ass I've ever seen, and hoping to relax you enough to let me rim you. Do you want me to stop?"  
  
Wufei couldn't begin to formulate an answer to that. He had no idea what "rim" meant and his brain was on overload already from everything else Zechs had done to him so far. Actually, he'd been on overload from the moment he'd opened that box in the bathroom and seen what was inside.   
  
The stockings and bra had been on top of the pink tissue paper. Moving them aside in disbelief, he'd taken in the rest of the contents. He should have been horrified, or at least insulted, he told himself. Even in his wildest imaginings he'd never conceived that clothes like these even existed. Bras for men? Stockings? Instead, he'd been incredibly turned on, not only by the utter outrageousness of it all, but by the fact that Zechs seemed to know him better than he knew himself. And his arousal only increased as he'd made himself put these strange clothes on. It had taken an effort leave the bathroom, but the new part of him that Zechs had awakened was anxious to see his lover's reaction. It had been everything he'd hoped for, and more. Any embarrassment he might have felt was swept aside by Zechs's first heated look, and by the sight of what his lover had worn for him.   
  
The Lightning Count himself stood waiting for him, blues eyes smoldering, that full, wide mouth set in a soft smile. Wufei marveled at the beauty of the man. Those fine features and long platinum hair might have been feminine on anyone else, but instead they gave him a wolfish air. Almost boyishly slender as he still was, he was so much taller than Wufei, and moved with such feral grace, that he seemed older and infinitely worldlier. That last was no illusion. Wufei could not bring himself to be jealous of all the other lovers Zechs had had, so long as he was the last of that line, and the beneficiary of such experience.  
  
Even so, he now found himself in a quandary, standing here with his ass in the breeze and Zechs awaiting his answer. There was no denying that being licked there felt exceptionally good. He just wasn't certain it was right to let Zechs do that, even though he knew he was immaculately clean. He always saw to that carefully before bed.  
__  
//Why bother with all that extra washing, if you didn't secretly want this, all along?//  
  
//I don't know. Just in case?//  
  
Zechs smiled up at him, those piercing blue eyes filled with a mix of amusement and lust that made it very hard not to just turn around and stick his cock in that amazing mouth. But Zechs was in charge, and Zechs was waiting.   
  
"I-- I--"   
  
"Do you want me to stop?" Zechs repeated, his voice taking on that edge of command again that made that newly awakened part of Wufei's mind want to bend over and grab his ankles. That part of him had surfaced a few nights ago and vied mightily with all of Wufei's ingrained fears and prejudices at moments such as these.   
  
When Wufei still couldn't formulate an answer Zechs shrugged and sat back on his heels. Wufei heard the shiny black boots creak as he moved. He smelled leather and polish. Cut off from Zechs's touch, Wufei blurted out, "No, please. Don't stop!" What the hell, whatever "rim" meant, Zechs had already promised not to penetrate him and that should be reassurance enough, right?  
  
Zechs smiled and stroked his ass, tracing the edges of the stockings with tickling fingertips. Wufei pressed his face to his forearm again, giving himself up to whatever his lover thought best for him.   
  
The acknowledgment of his own surrender always hit him like the first few puffs on an opium pipe. It was the next best thing to actual orgasm. God, he really was a bottom! Zechs was kissing him again, and biting him, too, sometimes almost to the edge of pain, but so good! Zechs worked across both cheeks, and then nibbled along the very sensitive edges of his cleft. Then Wufei felt him pull the thong aside again, and that tongue was back, lapping between his cheeks, filling his whole body with swirling fire, fraught with brighter sparks as the tickling tip found his balls and then moved up to--To--  
  
"Oh god! Oh godogodogodo--GOD!" Zechs was tonguing his asshole, and it felt unbelievably GOOD! It was such a bizarre thing to do, but Zechs had obviously done it before and liked it. He was humming happily to himself as he circled the edges that secret pucker with the tip of his tongue, then probed gently at the center. He couldn't mean to--- NO, it wasn't possible! But yes, oh yes! He was pushing at the opening, slipping just slightly inside and introducing Wufei to just how incredibly sensitive that small part of his anatomy could be under the right conditions. Wufei arched back, clawing at the wall. "Oh, god, Zechs! How can I not come if you do that?"  
  
"Don't. Come." The vibration of lips and breath against his ass was a cruel contradiction to the order.  
  
Panting, Wufei tried to fix his thoughts elsewhere, picturing mundane things, but it was impossible. His entire being was on fire with arousal and the core of it was wherever Zechs's mouth moved on him. Zechs's hands were busy, too, slowly stroking his thighs: up the inside, down the outside, up the inside--a brush of fingertips across the satin-encased bulge of his scrotum, down the outside, with a flick at the lacy straps of the thong, and up again----  
  
"Zechs, please! I can't--!" His knees were about to give out.  
  
Zechs stood abruptly and scooped him up into his arms. He carried him to the bed and placed him on his hands and knees, facing the far edge of the bed. Standing behind him, he slowly pulled the thong down to Wufei's knees, leaving him completely exposed to view. That mouth came back, and that tongue explored him mercilessly. Teeth gently nipped at the back of his balls, fingers found the shaft of his cock and tested its length and hardness, and that tongue! It tickled up and down between his cheeks, and then began that soft circling and probing that had driven him to distraction before. Wufei clutched a pillow under his face, then bit it, fighting back the unbelievable waves of pleasure rocking his entire body. He was dizzy with it, delirious, and shaking all over. Just when he thought he couldn't last another moment, Zechs stopped.  
  
"Turn around, Wufei."  
  
It took every shred of coordination he had left, but he managed it, rock hard erection jutting ridiculously out under the twinkling layers of the apron. The mesh was stiff and a little scratchy against his fevered flesh. Zechs stood there by the bed, looking like a wicked angel come to torment him in the candlelight. His bare chest shone like gold under the open coat and his hair and boots glistened. Wufei fell to his knees in front of him and threw his arms around those slim hips, rubbing his face against the erection straining through those tight white trousers. "I want to suck you!"  
  
Zechs gave him a loving fallen angel smile. "You may, my lovely one. Unbutton my trousers.  
  
Wufei did so with shaking fingers, lowering that wide flap to reveal his smooth hard belly and the object of his desire, standing up proudly from a patch of neatly trimmed patch of platinum curls. Zechs's cock curved like a saber, longer and thicker than Wufei's, and uncut. He didn't mind the differences. His own was not small and Zechs seemed perfectly satisfied with it. Wufei was always thrilled at the feel of something so very different than his own in his hands or mouth. He kissed the satiny foreskin and watched with growing pleasure as the red tip of the penis emerged, already oozing clear fluid.  
  
And those balls! Round and hot and heavy in their silken sac, he rolled them in his hand, then mouthed and kissed them, loving the way Zechs felt and smelled, and the way Wufei could make his tormenter gasp and catch his breath. He nuzzled his balls a bit longer, then licked up the shaft and pulled back the foreskin all the way to catch the first taste of slick fluids oozing from the purple head. It was as big as a plum, that head, and he stretched his lips willingly to encompass it. Palming the balls with one hand, he used his other to guide the shaft deeper in his mouth. There was no question of taking it all in; it was simply too long, but he did his best, extending his tongue to lick at the base while the head pressed against the back of his throat. He was still learning how to do this without gagging. It was so embarrassing when that happened! But Zechs was patient and responsive, and he claimed Wufei's was the sweetest, most erotic mouth he'd ever fucked. Wufei wanted to believe that and be worthy of the praise. He loved giving head, as Zechs called it, and made a point of practicing every chance he got.   
  
Zechs tasted as good as ever tonight; a little bitter, a lot salt, and something else quite indefinable. It was his own unique flavor and Wufei didn't think he'd ever get enough of it. He licked and sucked and now Zechs was the one moaning toward release. That husky low voice and the way those hips were rocking against his face made Wufei harder still. He knew the signs. Any moment now Zechs would grab Wufei's head and hold it between those firm, big hands while he thrust in and out between his lips. It was always a wild ride, but a good one, even if it sometimes left his throat raw afterwards. He hadn't mastered the art of deep throating yet, but he meant to, and soon! Almost without thinking, he dropped his hand from Zechs's balls to his boot, stroking the smooth column of cool polished leather as he mouthed the hard column of hot flesh. It was a striking combination of tactile sensations and his own cock throbbed appreciatively. Keeping his mouth where it was, he reached up with his other hand and pushed the jacket aside to expose one hard nipple. Zechs's nipples were the same pale pink as his lips. Sometimes during the day he would stare at Zechs's mouth, aroused by that knowledge. They were just as sensitive as his own, too. Wufei took the little nub between thumb and forefinger and gently rolled it. Zechs's cock leaped in his mouth and Zechs groaned aloud.   
  
"Oh, mei, you are inspired tonight!"  
  
Wufei hummed low in his throat and Zechs's hips moved faster.   
  
He did take Wufei's head in his hands, but his motions were gentler tonight. He kept up a steady rhythm, breath increasingly labored, and Wufei felt those long legs shaking. He decided to try a trick Zechs had used on him. Swirling his tongue up and down the shaft, he slid his hand slowly up Zechs's calf, up his long, lean thigh, to cup one flexing ass cheek. He gripped it, kneaded it, and dug his fingers in as he pulled Zechs deeper into his mouth. hands clenched almost painfully in his hair as Zechs spasmed against him, shouting hoarsely as he came. Thick, hot ejaculate filled Wufei's mouth and throat, and ran down his chin. He swallowed greedily, whimpering and groaning in his ecstasy, knowing it would prolong his lover's pleasure, too.   
  
"Ah, Wufei! Oh god! Oh fuck!" Zechs rasped, still thrusting. "Ah! My love! My beautiful---! Wufei! Wufei! Oh, god, how I love you!"  
  
Wufei swallowed hard, licking him clean as best he could before Zechs collapsed to his knees and pulled him into a crushing embrace. Wufei wrapped his arms around him under the coat, his face pressed into the curve of his neck, his aching cock hard against Zechs's trembling thigh. "I love you! Was that good?"  
  
"Oh god!" Zechs laughed shakily. "Unbelievable! So---Amazing! You are an unceasing wonder, my little china doll."  
  
Wufei colored happily. That was a new one, but perhaps fitting, considering his current state of dress. They stayed like that for a few moments, then Zechs rose and drew him back onto the bed. He pulled the apron ties loose and cast it aside, leaving Wufei in the stockings, bra and gloves. Laying him back, he stretched out beside him and began scattering fevered kisses over his chest, belly, and the tops of his thighs. His long hair brushed over Wufei's erection and he gasped as all his attention refocused there. "Oh god, Zechs, please. I need to come! Please let me come!"  
  
Zechs kissed his throat, then his mouth, deeply. "You've earned it, my love. I want to take you to the heights you just showed me. I think we've determined that your bottom is very sensitive tonight?"  
  
Wufei shivered as anticipation mixed with fear again. "Y--yes."  
  
"Don't worry. I know you're not ready to have my cock there. Not yet. But I want to show you something that will help you prepare for that day. I'm going to use a finger in you, and I'm going to find out how sensitive your prostate is. Don't be afraid, my darling. It may feel a little odd at first, but I promise you, the pleasure far outweighs any initial discomfort. Do you submit?"  
  
Wufei closed his eyes and turned his face away. It was up to him to say yes or no, and no was very tempting. It was a form of penetration, after all. But his body was still humming from what Zechs had already done to him, and he could tell his lover wanted very badly to progress to this new stage in their physical relations. Still not looking at Zechs, he gave one small, quick nod. The die was cast. He prayed it wouldn't hurt too much, and if it did, that he could bear it with dignity.  
  
Zechs chuckled softly and kissed him again. "Don't be afraid, mei. We'll take this slowly."  
  
Zechs was still dressed as he had been, his semi-hard cock exposed now over the hanging flap of his trousers. Wufei made himself concentrate on that as he watched Zechs reach into the nightstand drawer and take out a thin latex glove and a bottle of lubricant.   
  
"I know you're clean," Zechs said, holding up the glove. "This is very smooth, and with the lube, it will make it easier for you to accept my fingers."  
  
"Fingers! I thought you said one!" Wufei squeaked. God, he actually squeaked. He pressed his hands over his face, mortified.  
  
Zechs kissed his hipbones and ran his tongue lightly up Wufei's cock, making it jump. "I'll start with one and we'll see how you feel. I'll stop any time you tell me."  
  
Wufei listened to the snap of latex against skin, and the sound of the lube being opened and applied. He couldn't watch, but Zechs didn't require that. He never did. The only thing he would not allow was for Wufei to muffle his own cries.   
  
He felt Zechs shift beside him, then a warm hand slipped under his right leg, raising it up and to the side to rest over Zechs's shoulder. His left leg was nudged out, leaving him spread wide with Zechs reclining between his legs. That long pale hair fell across his inner thigh, tickling and inflaming him. His cock jumped again as hot lips and tongue caressed his balls, then a hand lifted them, cradled them as Zechs bent to rim him again.   
  
Fear retreated in the face of that erotic assault. How can this be? Wufei wondered again as he felt himself float up on pure pleasure. How could Zechs know such things about him, things that he had never even suspected in himself? He was probing with that tongue now, pressing at Wufei's tight opening, tickling and slicking it with his spit, preparing it for what must surely be about to happen.  
  
Zechs was clever. He kept his tongue there as he brought one slicked fingertip into play and for a moment Wufei could not tell which was which. Then the pressure on his anus increased and he felt that cool, latex sheathed finger breach some outer ring of muscle. It burned a little, hurt just a bit.   
  
Zechs licked his way up Wufei's erection, distracting him from the discomfort. "Breath with your mouth open, my love, and relax."  
  
Wufei did his best to comply, and gasped again as Zechs took his cock in his mouth and sucked hard at the same moment he pressed that finger deeper.   
  
"AHHH!" Wufei bucked, and his thighs tried instinctively to close, but Zechs had him spread helplessly, a shoulder under his upraised leg, the weight of the other on his thigh. Somehow, that turned him on even more, rather than the opposite. He fell back, spread a little wider for his lover, and pressed both hands over his face again as he felt that finger begin a gentle in and out thrusting, in time to Zechs's mouth on his cock. In and out. Up and down. Thrust and suck. And with each thrust, he probled a little deep with that long finger, past the initial tightness to sensitive depths beyond.   
  
Wufei realized he was moaning steadily now, and rather loudly. He couldn't help it. It took away the last of his lingering fears and seemed to melt away the tension in his body. It felt good to moan, to arch, to sigh. God, he began to understand why Winner and the others were so loud during sex. His cheeks burned, but the thought excited him. Then it struck him that this was almost exactly what he'd caught Maxwell doing to Yuy that day in Madrid. That long-suppressed image flashed back in his mind's eye but this time he recognized the powerful emotions surrounding it, the ones he'd worked so hard to repress for so long. Lust. Arousal. Pure, unadulterated need. When he'd admitted to Yuy later that he was a little jealous, he hadn't been able to admit to himself how deep the envy ran. But no more. Now he had it and knew he wanted it!  
  
Zechs was humming now and moving his finger inside Wufei. It was almost as if he was looking for--- Ah god! His prostate! There it was!  
  
"Oh! Ah. AH! Zechs!"  
  
It was almost too intense, but Zechs was moving slowly, almost lazily on him and in him and there was no question of stopping now. Wufei had felt his flesh consumed by desire before, and thought it could not be more intense. He'd been wrong, so wrong! No wonder Zechs had been so insistent. This was phenomenally good!  
  
Zechs kept him vibrating at a fever pitch, then withdrew his finger, relubed it and a second, and worked them back in. Wufei was past making any objections now. He spread his legs, marveling at how it felt to rub them against Zechs covered in thin black silk. His entire body felt like a little boat being tossed on a stormy sea of sensation. He was lost, adrift, and so very aroused. He was past wanting or needing. He could only feel and accept. It was like opium, but he wasn't alone. Zechs, his handsome, domineering, careful lover, was there, taking such good care of him, taking care of everything . . .  
  
That hot mouth left his cock just long enough for Zechs to tell him in that hoarse, rough, sexy growl, "I am going to let you come now, little Chang."  
  
The mouth slid back down his shaft, and that rough wet tongue swirled over it, finding every sensitized nerve ending. Meanwhile, three fingers stretched inside him, probing and flexing, going deeper and deeper until they found that magical little part of him that suddenly became the detonator of a shattering, endless orgasm.   
  
He screamed. There was no other word for it. The cry tore out of his chest, scraped his throat raw, stretched his jaws. And he didn't care. He screamed again as the white-hot pleasure engulfed him like the mouth still sucking his spurting cock. The cries went on, and he gradually became aware that it was Zechs's name he was gasping out now, over and over, claiming the man and surrendering to him all in the same frantic breath.   
  
It felt like it went on forever, and when the last of the shock waves receded he was left still floating in a hot golden haze, only half aware of his surroundings. Helpless to move he felt Zechs move away, then return naked to gather Wufei into his arms.  
  
"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered, covering Wufei's face with musky kisses. "You are the most amazing lover I have ever had, my darling. I want to make love to you forever!"  
  
"Forever!" Wufei echoed faintly. "Yes, forever." He managed to get his eyes open and looked up at Zechs, his lover, his teacher. Three fingers. He looked at Zechs's hand resting on his chest. Three of those fingers. Perhaps as thick as a cock when combined, but the cock was longer. What would that feel like--? "Love you forever."  
  
Zechs kissed him again, lips trembling slightly against Wufei's. "I have never been this happy in my life, little Chang. Not just the sex, but being with you, learning all the complexities of you. Say you'll never leave me."  
  
"Never leave you. Promise." Wufei somehow found the strength to sit up. Reaching awkwardly behind himself, he unhooked the bra and let it fall away. Then he took off the stockings and threw them aside too. With Zechs watching, he slowly drew off one glove, and then the other, and presented them to his lover. He was naked at last before him, in every possible sense of the word.   
  
Zechs took the gloves, kissed them, and tossed them to the end of the bed. Then he drew Wufei down and pulled the covers over them, leaving the candles to burn down on their own. Tangling naked limbs together, they went to sleep to the beat of each other's heart.


	63. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Leaning against the concourse wall, Duo kept an eye on the gate that led to the private jet gangways, watching for Wufei and Zechs. With his hat and shades on, and braid hidden down the back of his baggy sweatshirt, Duo was just another punk kid hanging out at the airport, watching the planes and shuttles through the big plate glass windows, rather than a famous, well-armed ex-terrorist here to meet an old bud and his new squeeze.   
  
Security for 'his highness' in New Orleans was an issue. No one wanted a gaggle of security guards wandering around the house, attracting media attention, so Zechs and Wufei were flying in on their own, with the understanding that the others would be on alert during their visit.   
  
Too many G-Boys in public together attracted too much attention, so Duo had come to meet them at the gate while Heero was off arranging for a rental car. No advance plans. No reservations to let anyone who might be watching know what the next move was. Duo and Trowa had come up with a nice little twist for protection at the show, too, back when Wufei had written to accept Kat's invite.   
  
No more nasty-grams had arrived for Heero since the second one but everyone had that waiting-for-the-next-shoe-to-drop feeling. At Heero's insistence, nothing was going to be said to Wufei about the current situation until the day after tomorrow. Heero had been totally adamant that they let Wuffie and Zechs settle in, see the show that night, and celebrate Wu's eighteenth birthday the following day without all that shit overshadowing it. Duo suspected this was also Heero's way of feeling in control. He'd bounced back too quickly, in Duo and Quatre's estimations, from the shock of receiving the photos, and had been in full mission mode ever since, talking about the 'situation' almost as if it was centered on someone other than himself. He and Duo had made love again for the first time in almost a week, too, which was probably a good sign, even though Heero had insisted on doing most of the "doing." But he'd done lots of it. Duo had been enjoying that not-unpleasant "got lucky" soreness every time he sat down today. Good sex equaled good medicine, right?  
  
Quatre still had his feelers out, but so far it just seemed like Heero was digging down and drawing on the inner strength that had gotten him through everything else in his life. Whatever the case, Duo was keeping in a sharp eye on him, and so was everyone else. Duo regretted the timing of Wu's visit. Who knew how messed up Wu might still be, and now all Duo wanted was to track the bastards down and go kick some ass. But first they'd have to find the fuckers. He shrugged deeper into his sweatshirt and kicked the heel of one jump boot restlessly at the wall behind him. Concentrate on the mission at hand for now, like Heero had said.  
  
Wu and Zechs were traveling incognito and Duo almost missed them when they finally emerged from the jet way carrying a couple of duffels. Zechs had his hair up under a cap like Duo's and neither of them was dressed like he'd been expecting. When he did spot them coming his way, he wasn't immediately sure if he was more relieved or confused to see Wufei looking so--normal?   
  
Well, maybe 'normal' wasn't quite the right word. In Duo's experience, Chang Wufei didn't normally or willingly wear jeans, or designer black cashmere sweaters or wrap-around shades that made him look like he'd just stepped out of some fancy menswear ad. Aside from the new threads, though, he looked a helluva lot more like his old self than he had the last few times Duo had seen him, on L-4 or that time on TV.   
  
Kat was all tickled pink about this new relationship, but to Duo it seemed that falling for Zechs-and Duo was _not_ ready to use the "L" word just yet, even if Wuffers was-- to Duo it had had seemed like something had been knocked out of Wufei. The drug revelation, the major fuck-over by Relena and Une, figuring out he was gay; it was a lot to take in, both for Wufei and the rest of them. The drugged out, weepy wreck he and Heero had hauled back to New Orleans had scared him a little, as had the contrite tone of that first email.   
  
Uptight, pissed off, disapproving, 05 had always been one of Duo's Strong Ones, a guy who'd show up at a moment's notice looking and acting exactly the same as the last time he saw him. Duo had recognized the good, honorable guy under that prickly exterior a long time ago, and had depended on that comforting consistency of behavior a lot more than he liked to admit. The idea that at least some of that attitude had been a front, a self-deluding act to cover the fact that Wufei had been just as miserable and messed up and lonely as Duo made him feel bad in all sorts of new and interesting ways. Not to mention the fact that it had been Zechs, not any of the rest of them, who'd twigged and was now, for good or ill, apparently the one giving Wufei something he needed.   
  
That all jumped right up to the surface at the sight of Wufei striding along beside Zechs. He didn't look wrecked, or like some kid in love. Wufei looked like he was back in control, right down to the inscrutable expression, the anal-retentive hairstyle, and the unmistakable bulge of a gun under the left arm of his coat. It occurred to Duo that even the surprising, prettied-up Wufei he'd seen on the news had been armed. Nope, the smoked-up mess who'd played with himself in the tub (oh, yeah, it had been some fun pulling those details out of Heero) and cried in their arms and written polite thank-you notes was safely out of sight. He looked more like Zechs's licensed-to-kill bodyguard than his--Duo grimaced inwardly-- boyfriend.  
  
And no, Duo didn't need Heero or Quatre or Batoosingh to point out to him that his reaction might be just a teensy-weensy little bit selfish. He figured that one out all by himself, thank you very much. That, and the fact that he seemed to be the only one who hadn't let go of the Libra incident yet.   
  
It didn't help his confusion and general fucked-upedness when some other part of his brain sat up and took notice that Merquise looked like sex on legs today. OK, the man had looked real good in uniform back in the day, and in the suits and dress causal he'd worn during their Sanque visit, but none of that had triggered Duo's sensors like this ensemble.   
  
Zechsy wore his faded jeans tight in all the right places, and that black biker jacket had been around. Bottom line: he looked like someone Duo would have cruised in the old days. Oh yeah! But alarm bells were going off, too. Duo knew a dominant top when he saw one, which meant that Wufei . . .  
  
Duo bludgeoned that thought to pulp and filed the remains away in a mental file marked "Do Not Go There" in big red letters. Maybe Zechs just knew he looked good in beat up leather, right? Besides, at the moment the two were acting like they hardly knew each other.   
  
Wufei spotted him and gave him a slight nod. Duo pushed away from the wall and fell in beside him, trying real damn hard not to stare at the two of them from the corner of his eye with that last thought struggling to break through again. Wuffers still had on that jade necklace; Duo suspected it had the same kind of significance to him that the Duo's Shiva's Eye did to him.   
  
Zechs gave Duo a friendly look over the top of his own tinted glasses. "Good to see you again."  
  
"You, too." No lie there. It was good to _see_ him. Knowing him? Well, the Maxwell jury was still out on that, but for Wufei's sake, he'd make an effort. Wufei, however, was currently giving off no signals at all except impatience to get through the airport.  
  
Heero was lounging in one of the plastic chairs in the Avis lounge. The blond wig really worked as cover. With those blue eyes, he carried it off. Jeans, black high-tops, faded green tee-shirt of Tro's that hung loose enough to hide the hard muscle there--  
_  
// My boyfriend's hotter n' yours, Wu-Man! //  
  
// Well, _ as _hot, anyway. //_  
  
Duo stuck that in the Don't Go There file, too.   
  
Heero got up and headed for the door without comment and the rest followed in silence. They looked about two men short of a street gang. In slightly better clothes, they could recast that old pre-colony movie Trowa liked so much, "Reservoir Dogs."  
  
When they were safely on the highway back into the city again, Duo took off his sunglasses and turned around in his seat to give Wufei a grin. "Welcome back to the Crescent City, buddy. How was the flight?"  
  
Wufei gave Duo his customary dirty look at the nickname. "No problems. We came down in a Zoroaster X-9. It handles well."   
  
Yup, he looked pretty much like his old self again, but healthier. He wasn't exactly beaming and giggling, though, and there were none of the little tells Duo or Quatre might have given under the circumstances. He sat on his side of the car and Zechs stayed on his. No shared glances. No hand holding or bumping of knees. No climbing into each other's laps, either.   
  
"An X-9?" Heero asked, eyes on the road and oblivious to this odd situation.   
  
Heero and Zechs talked shuttles and bikes. Duo chimed in now and then to be polite, and surprised to find that he and Zechs had some similar tastes in road toys. Wufei didn't say much of anything. Not that he'd ever been a motor mouth, but Duo kept looking at that open space between him and Zechs, wondering if there's been an in flight spat or something.  
  
The house was all lit up to welcome the guests. Trowa and Quatre met them in the garden court. The lights were on there, too, and cold beer and snacks had been set out on the table by the fountain. Trowa shook hands with them both. Kat hugged Wufei like it was the most natural thing in the world, then made him turn around so he could admire the new clothes. "Wow, Wufei, you look incredible!"  
  
Wufei smiled as he retreated to a chair. "Better than last time you saw me, anyway?"   
  
"Actually, last time we saw you, you were on the news," Trowa said, describing the clip of the charity event. "We didn't recognize you at first. Very stylish."  
  
Unless Duo's eyes deceived him, Wufei blushed at that, and stole a glance at Zechs, who'd taken a seat across the table, Duo noted suspiciously. "Ah, well. I can't rely on dress uniforms anymore, and L-5 clothes just don't seem to suit me the way they used to. Zechs has been helping me develop a new wardrobe." He raised an eyebrow at Duo. "You should be happy at that, Maxwell. You always said I had all the fashion sense of a Gundam."  
  
Duo cheerfully flipped him off. "Can't say I'll miss those Chinese pants, my friend."  
  
Zechs chuckled over his beer. "He still has a few he wears for our morning practice."   
  
"You're still training, then?" Heero asked Wufei.  
  
"Of course!" Wufei looked mildly offended at the idea that he would have stopped. That was a good sign, with 05. He really was getting back to normal.  
  
"Wufei has been sparring with me as part of my physical therapy, as well,  
Zechs added, smiling over at 05. "He's also been teaching me Wu Yi martial arts and attempting to get me to meditate. I repay him with saber and chess lessons. He has the easier task, of course, already being an expert swordsman. I understand you have a gymnasium here that we could use?"  
  
"Well, it's more of a big open room with some mats, but you're welcome to use it," Quatre told him.   
  
"Would any of you care to join us?"   
  
"Quatre and I don't spar anymore; can't risk any head injuries," Trowa replied. "If you do Tai Chi or yoga, we'd join you at that. Heero can give you a workout, though. He'd probably enjoy having someone besides Duo to beat up on for a change."  
  
"I win almost as often as I lose!" Duo sputtered. The truth was, he'd spent more of his war days avoiding hand-to-hand fighting; no one could beat him on the target range, or out fly him. It was a probably a good thing for him that Heero hadn't recovered his full battle capability. He got knocked around enough as it was, but the Perfect Soldier insisted that his boyfriend be able to defend himself unarmed.  
  
"Dinner's almost ready," Quatre told them. "Mari, has outdone herself tonight in your honor, but told me to tell you that it's only a 'light supper'. That's all Tro and I can manage on show nights, but we'll take you out afterwards if you're hungry again. Zechs, would you like to see the house while we wait? We can take your bags up on the way."  
  
"Yes. Wufei says it's charming. Very Old World."   
  
"Great. Tro and I will give you the tour."   
  
Zechs looked over at Wufei.   
  
"Go ahead," he said, giving his---what?-a nod. "I'll sit here and enjoy the garden."  
  
"I'll keep him company for you," Duo offered, jumping at the chance to get Wufei alone for a minute. "Heero, you want to go check on how dinner's coming?"  
  
Heero shot him a warning look, but took the hint.   
  
Duo waited until the others were gone. "So, Wu-man . . . You two together, huh?" Hey, no one ever accused him of being subtle.  
  
Wufei arched an eyebrow at him as he sipped his beer. "Yes. I assume you read my email?"  
  
"Yeah. But, ah . . ." Duo picked at the label on his low alcohol beer. "You guys ok with each other?"  
  
The eyebrow climbed a little higher. "Of course. Why do you ask?"  
  
So the new Wufei wasn't real big on pillow talk. "I dunno. You just don't seem real cuddly together, that's all."  
  
To his surprise, Wufei sighed. "I know. It's difficult, in public. I'm not like you and the others."  
  
"But in private?"  
  
Wufei's sudden, ferocious blush, coupled with that frown, sent a confusing message. "Really, Maxwell!"  
  
"Sorry! I just, y'know, want to be sure everything's copasetic, that's all. I care, Wufei."  
  
Wufei glared down at his beer. "I-appreciate your concern, but it's misplaced. Zechs and I are fine."  
  
"Fine?"  
  
"Yes. Fine."  
  
Before Duo could dig any deeper behind that none answer, the others came back and they went in to dinner. Zechs presented Quatre and Trowa with a small antique oil painting and a bottle of expensive champagne as a housewarming, and gave Heero and Duo a bottle of their own for their help in Sanque.  
  
Marie had indeed outdone herself. Sitting around the candlelit table, they dined on oyster bisque, green salad, crawfish etouffee, and poached pears. Unsatisfied with his interrogation so far, Duo kept an eye on Wufei as they ate. He didn't seem unhappy, but he wasn't 'glowing' as Kat had put it, either. He just looked like-well, like himself. Not so grumpy, just quiet. Zechs either didn't mind or didn't notice. Duo wasn't sure which. Small talk ebbed and flowed--more motor head stuff, voodoo in New Orleans, the house, the show, jazz theory. Zechs and Kat really hit it off over music. Turned out Zechs used to play the guitar and violin before the accident.   
  
He held up his new left hand, encased in a thin leather glove. "The doctors claim I can play again if I'm willing to put in the practice and let them tinker with the circuits. It seems I'm their favorite guinea pig, since the cybernetic technology in this arm is still so new. And Wufei's been after me to try." He smiled warmly across at Wufei, and Duo finally caught a flicker of warmth in his friend's face.   
  
"His progress at fencing and Wu-Yi has been remarkable," Wufei said proudly, as if Zechs was his student or something. "However, they don't require the fine motor coordination that playing an instrument would. Quatre, perhaps you could tempt him into giving it a try while we're here?"  
  
That steered the conversation to music again, and Duo settled back and kept watching. Wufei watched Zechs as he chatted adagios and improvisations with Kat. Jesus, the man was like a statue, not giving away anything! Zechs, on the other hand, was Mr. Charm. Those blue eyes were killer when he smiled, and he smiled a lot, especially when talking to Quatre. He didn't forget about Heero and Tro, either. They were not the world's greatest conversationalists outside their own little circle, but Zechs started pumping Trowa about his creative process and suddenly 03 was telling him about the mechanics of the stage, using silverware and breadsticks as visual aides. Heero got into that, and before Duo knew it, the three of them were coming up with a new winch design. Turned out Zechs had gotten a degree in mechanical engineering at the OZ Academy, along with his officer training. Hot, charming, and brilliant. Duo sulked a little, watching Heero light up over the topic of cantilevered balance arms.  
  
"I'm glad we've met again under better circumstances, Zechs," Trowa said over dessert.   
  
"So am I," Zechs replied. "I admired you boys so much during the war, even in that last battle. Actually, especially then. You were all so brave, so driven. You knew what you stood for. And now look at you!" He shook his head, smiling. "You know, it occurs to me I never saw all five of you in the same place before, except on Libra, and then you were in suits. But I saw photos. You've all grown up so much."  
  
Quatre dimpled up, looking about twelve. "You sound like one of my uncles!"   
  
Zechs chuckled. "I suppose so. But you were still children back then, and now you're young men. Young men in love." He raised his wineglass to them. "Allow me to offer my belated congratulations."  
  
"And to you and Wufei," Heero replied, raising his glass. "To love."  
  
Duo goggled. Had Heero, _his_ Heero, just proposed a toast?   
  
"Wufei's been raving about your show," Zechs went on. "I can't wait to see it, but I hope my presence won't be disruptive."  
  
"We've got that covered," Duo told him around a mouthful of dessert. "Whaddya say, guys? Can I give Wufei his birthday present now?"  
  
"That's not necessary!" Wufei exclaimed, blushing for sure now. "Being here, and seeing the show again is--"  
  
"Just wait. You'll see," Duo said, giving him a wink.   
  
\+   
  
It was good to be back with the others in New Orleans like this, but excruciating as well. He was "with" Zechs, as they said, and everyone knew it. It made him feel naked, exposed, uncomfortable in a way that none of their other more public experiences had. These people knew him better than anyone, knew him as 05, a warrior and fellow soldier, not as someone's-boyfriend!  
  
And just as he'd feared, the others seemed to expect him to sit on Zechs lap or paint his toenails or something, as if he'd suddenly turned into someone else-Quatre, perhaps. Duo was the most obvious about it. He'd been staring at them since they met in the airport.  
  
He wasn't ashamed to be in love, any more than he was ashamed of anything they did behind closed doors at night. Sure, he was still a bit backwards there, but that wasn't shame. He couldn't explain adequately what it was, but Zechs still claimed to find his shyness charming. He tried not to think about that too much outside the bedroom; who he was there and who he was in public remained separate entities. That's just how it had to be, for now. Zechs understood and loved him anyway, probably more than he deserved. Whatever the case, what they had worked just fine so far. But he'd have withstood torture more willingly than he could have answered Duo's worried question in the garden.   
  
Well, mostly fine, aside from the massive guilt he felt, not being able to be more physically demonstrative with his lover in public. Not that he wasn't trying. He'd gone dancing, and that had been pleasant. Zechs instinctively knew how far he could go without making Wufei uncomfortable. They'd danced in the Le Fleur club, and been the toast of the night. Among those strangers, Wufei had been able to dance close and enjoy the touch of Zechs's hand on his arm or lower back as they stood at the bar with Joey. He just knew Zechs would have liked more from him, then and the night they went to the gallery, but he gave no sign of disappointment, but claimed that restraint made him all the more anxious to get Wufei into bed later. Wufei, for his part, did his best to make it up to him there. It helped that he hungered for his lover's touch, and when they were alone, that core of ice he seemed to carry around inside melted away, leaving him yielding and open to pleasure. They hadn't made love last night, but Wufei had slipped into bed naked anyway and Zechs's appreciation had been clear as he took him in his arms and held him all night long. If they hadn't had to get to the shuttle port so early, Wufei would have been very tempted to see what morning sex was like. They'd both woken up ready enough for it. As it was, he'd almost invited Zechs into the bathroom with him to share his shower, but a call had come in for Zechs and Wufei had lost his nerve. He hoped they gave him the same room he'd had before; it had a bath attached, and a large old fashioned tub.  
  
Dinner went well, and his friends made every effort to be pleasant to Zechs. Well, most of them. Duo was still wary, and watching Wufei like he expected him to break. That only made Wufei more self conscious and that as always, only made him act stiff and quiet. In his discomfort, he'd taken a seat across the table from Zechs, and simply couldn't summon the nerve to put on the show of reaching across the table to touch his hand or anything of that sort. There was wine with supper and he let Trowa fill his glass twice. That and the beer should have taken off the edge, but didn't. By the end of the meal, he was exhausted from the stress and felt more like going to lie down in a quiet room than going out, much as he wanted to see the circus again. But the others were too excited about it and had gone to too much trouble to beg off.  
  
He almost dropped his water glass when Duo said something about a birthday present. They'd never exchanged gifts! No one had ever said anything about gifts!  
  
Duo returned with two small flat boxes wrapped up in red ribbon. "These are from all of us." He handed one to Wufei, and one to Zechs.   
  
Inside, they found a pair of beautiful handcrafted masks, similar to the ones some of the cast wore in the show. They were the kind that covered only the upper part of the face. Wufei's was a stylized dragon, painted in metallic red, white and gold, with slanted golden eyeholes and flaring wings on either side of the face. Zechs's was a dangerous looking silvery wolf's face with a mane of curled leather tendrils.   
  
"They're-they're beautiful!" Wufei exclaimed. "You made these, didn't you, Duo?" His reminded him of Shenlong, and he suspected that that was intentional.  
  
"Yeah, but everyone was in on the designs," Duo said, grinning happily at Wufei's baffled expression.   
  
"And they're quite practical, too. It's Masquerade Night at the Circus Della Notte," said Trowa. "Anyone who shows up in a mask gets their name in a drawing to win a Duo Maxwell original. You'll see it tonight."  
  
"Neat ploy, huh?" grinned Quatre. "It was Heero's idea, so you two could attend without attracting attention. I'm guessing ninety percent of the crowd tonight will come in masks. You'll blend right in."  
  
Zechs held his up to his face and gave Duo a wolfish grin. "I think this one was your idea."  
  
Duo shrugged. "It suits you."  
  
Wufei picked up on the sparring going on between those two, but was also distracted by the way his lover looked, blue eyes bright behind that silvery mask. He looked very wolfish, indeed, and in quite a beguiling way. He saw Duo's eyes widen a little at the sight, and grinned to himself, wondering if Maxwell had intended that? Somehow, he doubted it, but there was no question that the mask was beautiful, a masterpiece, and that Zechs looked damn sexy in it. Suddenly he found himself not feeling quite so tired, after all.


	64. Juxtapositions Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Trowa and Quatre left to get ready for their performance, and Wufei and Zechs excused themselves to rest and freshen up.  
  
"So, what do you think?" Duo demanded as he and Heero showered together in the master bath.  
  
"What do you mean?" Heero asked, soaping Duo's back.   
  
Duo wiggled away from tickling fingers and looked at Heero over one bare wet shoulder. "Zechs and Wuffie. Are they getting along?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you can tell this how? They hardly look at each other."  
  
"You're wrong." Heero lifted Duo's wet hair aside to rinse him. "You know what Sally said, Duo. Wufei's Chinese Colonial, and repressed on top of that. It's subtle, the way he shows emotion, but it's there all right. Leave them alone and quit picking on Zechs unless he actually does something. So far, he's been a perfect gentleman."  
  
"Perfect, huh? I knew you had a thing for him."  
  
Heero nuzzled his neck. "You're paying far more attention to him than anyone else. Maybe you have a thing for him?"   
  
"Yeah, right!" Duo snorted, guiding Heero's hand to his awakening erection. "Think they'd be into a foursome? Or maybe a six-way?"  
  
"Hn." Heero lazily stroked Duo's cock, enjoying the way it grew under his hand. He knew Duo was only joking, but wondered if the fantasy was contributing to this show of arousal. As fantasies went, it wasn't a bad one. "They could sleep with us. You know Trowa will probably offer. Would you mind?"  
  
Duo relaxed back against his chest and thrust up into Heero's fist. "Would you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I don't think Wu man would be into it, but I bet old Zechsy would say yes in a heartbeat."  
  
Heero increased the speed of his strokes and nipped down Duo's shoulder. "He's not old, little mermaid."  
  
"There you go, defending him again," Duo gasped.  
  
+  
  
Wufei showered first. He hesitated just inside the bathroom door, trying to find the words to invite Zechs to join him. Why was it so damned hard to do such a simple thing? He'd had the man's cock in his mouth, for god's sake, and Zechs's fingers up his ass! And it wasn't as if he thought Zechs would turn him down, either. Why did he freeze up every time he imagined some lesser intimacy outside of the bed?  
  
He washed quickly and took a little extra time conditioning his hair. Working the slippery gel in with his fingers, he let himself imagine that it was Zechs doing this for him, perhaps standing close behind him, that heavy cock brushing up against Wufei's hip or the cleft of his buttocks. The warm spray stung pleasantly as Wufei's own cock stirred and lifted away from his thighs. He loved the hard press of his lover's erection against that cleft as they spooned in bed at night. He'd felt it through linen and silk, and skin-to-skin, too, secure in the knowledge that Zechs would never take advantage of such a position.   
  
One of the few requests Zechs had made of him, besides wearing his hair down more often, was that he not masturbate, but save all his sexual energy for their nights together. Wufei sighed and turned the old-fashioned porcelain control knob to "Cold" and let the icy spray assuage the sudden throb between his legs.  
  
Wufei emerged from the bathroom wrapped in his old yukata with a towel around his wet hair and found Zechs reading in a chair by the window. Wufei remembered the night he'd spent there, staring out into the darkness and longing for the man before him. Zechs was his now. Zechs would give him anything he asked for, if only he could find the guts to tell him.   
  
Zechs smiled as he set the book aside on the windowsill and Wufei's breath caught in his throat. This incredibly handsome man loved him, wanted him, and was generous with him beyond all sense. Wufei felt pinched and selfish in comparison.  
  
"You look tired, my love," Zechs said. "Would you rather not go out tonight?"  
  
The masks lay on the bed, challenging Wufei. "No, I want to go. I want you to see it. I'm all right."  
  
"Come here, then, and let me comb your hair for you."  
  
Wufei brought him the comb and settled at his feet, back to his lover's knees. Zechs toweled more water from Wufei's hair and gently combed it smooth. His touch was soothing and he asked no questions. When he was done he kissed the top of Wufei's head and went to take his own shower. Wufei stayed where he was, head resting on his up drawn knees. Zechs loved him! Passionate and masterful and impetuous as he knew the man could be, he never really pressed Wufei for anything more than he offered, never made any demands.   
  
Wufei almost wished he would.  
  
+  
  
As Quatre had hoped, nearly everyone in the crowd that night had worn masks of some sort. New Orleans was home to a number of famous Mardi Gras mask artists, and those worn by Wufei and the others drew admiring gazes but not undue attention. Duo had hidden his hair again, and he and Heero wore matching black abstract masks with a few sculpted flourishes.   
  
They had front row seats again, and Wufei noted with a pang of guilt how easily Heero's arm rested across the back of duo's seat, and the way Duo leaned so comfortably over the armrest against his lover. Zechs sat between Heero and Wufei, chatting with Heero about the mechanics of the stage. Stranded on the end, next to a woman in a low cut top and peacock mask, Wufei eyed the distance, mere inches, between his shoulder and Zechs's, between their elbows and thighs. So close and yet so far.  
  
The lights went down at last and the show began. It was the same as last time, but Wufei saw it with different eyes now. The opening act was dark, certainly, and rather creepy, but the sensuality of it came through to him this time, and he was embarrassed to find himself rather aroused at the sight of a painted, nearly naked Quatre writing at his sinister lover's feet. It was an act, a performance, but it brought back to him all the times he'd been trapped in a room near them, listening to their cries of abandoned pleasure. He'd experienced that now himself, understood so much better the yearning and joy. Quatre and Trowa embodied that for all to see. As the opening act ended he heard Zechs murmur "Magnificent!"   
  
Wufei stole a sidelong glance at him. Beneath the mask, Zechs's lips were parted in an appreciative, perhaps even lascivious smile and his eyes glinted. Did he want those others? Was the Zechs who fucked strangers in back rooms coming to the fore? Jealousy reared its ugly head, closely followed by guilt. If Wufei wasn't such a repressed prig, would his lover look at others with such eyes?  
  
Wufei pushed away such thoughts as best he could, knowing they were unworthy, products of his own self doubt. This business of being in love was most unbalancing. Ignoring the fire-juggling act that followed, he focused on his breathing and searched his memory for a suitable meditation. A verse of the Tao came to him.  
  
  
_Yield, and maintain integrity._  
To bend is to be upright;  
to be empty is to be full.  
  
Those who have little have much to gain,  
but those who have much  
may be confused by possessions.  
  
The wise man embraces the all encompassing;  
he is unaware of himself, and so has brilliance;  
not defending himself, he gains distinction;  
not seeking fame, he receives recognition;  
not making false claims, he does not falter;  
and not being quarrelsome,  
is in conflict with no one.  
  
This is why it was said by the sages of old,  
"Yield, and maintain integrity;  
be whole, and all things come to you".  
  
  
The wise words calmed his unruly heart and he was able to concentrate on the beauty of the show, and the fact that he was here because his friends accepted him and wanted his company. Leaning forward a little, he could admire the fact that Duo had his head on Heero's shoulder now, fingers laced with his lover's on Heero's knee. Such acceptance.  
  
Zechs was clearly enjoying himself, and turned frequently to the others with some whispered comment or question. When Trowa's "Passage" began, however, Wufei felt him go very still. Even masked, Wufei knew he was seeing what Wufei had seen; death, the isolation of battle in space, the pain and fury and struggle. The loss of Treize. They'd never spoken in any detail of the man, but Wufei knew that Zechs had loved him. If Wufei still felt such loss, having known the man so briefly, what must Zechs emotions be? As if in answer, when Trowa had performed his death spiral and hung broken in the tangled red silk, Wufei saw tears seeping from under the silver wolf mask to streak Zechs's flushed cheeks.   
  
A sad tenderness flooded through Wufei, and without hesitation, he took Zechs's hand and clasped it between his own.  
  
+  
  
Duo nudged Heero's knee with his own and made a slight nod in the direction of the others. Heero squeezed Duo's hand. He'd seen. Wufei was holding Zechs's hand! He looked sort of stiff and awkward doing it, and he was staring fixedly at the stage, where Trowa was being lowered in his red silk shroud, but Zechs didn't pull away and Wufei didn't let go. Then Duo saw the tears on Zechs cheeks. Heero was right, he knew. Much as he hated to admit it, it was pretty obvious those two were head over heels for each other, and there was a intense tension between them, despite Wufei's shyness. Or maybe because of it. If just having his hand held brought Zechs to tears, then maybe there was more to him than Duo had been willing to admit. OK, so he wasn't quite ready to let go of the past, but damn, if he loved Wu Man that much, then maybe he could cut him some slack.  
  
+  
  
Wufei had been right. This was poetry of the body, Zechs thought, amazed at all he'd seen tonight. And as much as Wufei had tried to prepare him, "Passage" rocked him to his core and tore the half healed wounds of Trieze's death wide open. And yet, in the midst of the heart stopping grief, he felt warm, strong hands close around his own, and read the boundless love and understanding in his lover's eyes behind the fierce mask. That simple clasp of hands from this shy young man enfolded him and comforted like an embrace. He knew how much it cost Wufei to do something like this, even in a darkened theater; he'd overcome a lifetime of self-control and fear to offer his love like this. Zechs ached to hold him, but loved him enough to let this simple holding of hands be enough for now. And in the midst of all this, as the tragedy before them on the stage metamorphosed into an act of tenderest love, Wufei still held his hand, and even stroked his palm with trembling fingers.  
  
"Mei," Zechs whispered as the two golden bodies on stage twined together.  
  
Wufei leaned close, close enough for his breath and silky black hair to caress Zechs's cheek as he whispered, "That's how I feel for you." And even as that declaration sank in, filling Zechs's whole body with fire, Wufei brought Zechs's right hand to his lips and kissed it. Wufei's lips were hot and they trembled against his skin. With a gentle tug at Wufie's hand, Zechs returned the kiss.  
  
The act came to its gentle close but Wufei did not release his hand, or when Duo jumped up on stage to award the prize for best mask to a giggling young girl in a full body mask of a mermaid, or when the dark finale had reached its frenetic end. The lights came up and the crowd drained away around them, but Wufei's hand remained warm and tight around his own. Zechs caught Wufei's eye through the mask and saw something new there, a loving resolve of some sort. It took Zechs's breath away, though he wasn't quite certain what it meant.   
  
It was well past midnight by the time the Barton-Winners reappeared in the empty tent, dressed in normal cloths and carrying champagne and glasses.   
  
"Happy birthday, Wufei!" Quatre said, and Wufei let go of Zech's hand at last to allow a hug from the blond boy as the others echoed the sentiments. Trowa loosened the cork and let it pop, flying away into the back seats and they all drank a toast.   
  
"Eighteen, huh?" Maxwell said, grinning. "And I always thought you were the old man of the team!"  
  
"Only because I was the most mature," Wufei countered wryly.   
  
"Well, guess you're officially legal for everything now."   
  
Yuy caught the look his lover was giving Zechs and elbowed him sharply. Quatre looked embarrassed, but Maxwell gave them a disarming grin. "Legal to drink!" he exclaimed, grabbing the bottle from Trowa and refilling Wufei's glass and his own. Raising it, he gave Wufei and Zechs a warm, welcoming smile. "Be happy, both of you. You officially have my blessing."  
  
Zechs would have been happy to take Wufei home to bed, but had been informed in advance that the others had hired a limousine for a moonlight drive around the city and along the river to the lake. There was more champagne, and oysters on ice and fresh strawberries and slices of rich chocolate cake. Everyone was cuddling with their lover and Wufei sat close to Zechs and held his hand again.  
  
"You've had your gifts from the others," Zechs told him, reaching under the seat. "Now that it's officially your birthday, here are a few from me."   
  
"This trip was my gift!" Wufei said, coloring. Gifts always seemed to embarrass him.   
  
That was something he was just going to have to get over, Zechs thought, watching with amusement as Wufei unwrapped the first one and blushed even more hotly at the volume of Chinese homoerotic poetry Zechs had found for him. It was printed in Mandarin, but Wufei's reaction made the other's exchange knowing grins.  
  
"Th-thank you," Wufei murmured, tucking it out of sight between them and starting on the next, also a book. Clearly, he feared something else embarrassing, but his expression changed to one of surprise as he saw that it was instead a catalogue of various universities. Inside, he'd written, "For Wufei the scholar, thoughts for the future."  
  
Wufei read it, and then looked up with questioning eyes. "We'll talk later," Zechs murmured, taking a small box from his pocket and handing it to him. "Now, this one."  
  
"Too much!" Wufei muttered, shaking his head as he pulled the narrow ribbons free and took off the lid. Inside, on a leather fob, was a car key bearing an unmistakable crest.  
  
"A Porsche!" Duo said, gaping. "He gave you a Porsche! Wow!"  
  
Wufei was speechless and Zechs began to regret doing this in front of the others. But then Wufei smiled and shook his head again. "You are far too generous, Zechs Merquise."  
  
"I warned you I would spoil you," Zechs replied, handing him the dealer's photo of the sleek black vintage 911 Turbo. "And how could I expect a Gundam pilot to drive some ordinary car? You belong behind the wheel of this."  
  
"It is too much, but thank you. I love it," Wufei said, and brought Zechs's hand to his lips again, right there in front of the others. "You are, as always, too good to me."  
  
"Impossible," Zechs rasped, overwhelmed by this new, unprecedented display of affection. It made him a bit less nervous about the gift he intended to give Wufei in private later.  
  
"Jeeze, Trowa gets a house for his birthday, Quatre got Trowa for his, and now Wufei gets a Porsche?" Grinning, he wiggled up into Heero's lap and wrapped his arms around his lover's neck. "We're going to have a little chat, Mr. Yuy."  
  
"Hn. I've heard of an old American custom; birthday spankings?"   
  
Far from being offended, Duo snuggled closer. "God, you spoil me!"  
  
It was almost three when the car deposited them in front of the iron garden gate. The others were all drunk by now, but Zechs had drunk lightly and noticed Wufei doing the same.   
  
Lamps had been left burning in the garden to welcome them back. Trowa paused, weaving a little on his feet as he leaned on Quatre. "Well, happy birthday again, 05. The offer still stands. Want to join us?"  
  
"Join you?" Zechs asked, thinking this couldn't possibly be what it sounded like.  
  
"We sleep in one bed, but just sleep," Maxwell explained, a hint of the old challenge in his eyes. "Wufei's one of us, so you two can tuck in if you want to."  
  
"Thank you. But I think I'll sleep better in my own bed tonight," Wufei replied. "Perhaps tomorrow."   
  
Perhaps Zechs was drunker than he thought, because it took him a moment to get his mind around all he'd just heard, including the fact that Wufei had just sort of committed both of them to sharing a bed with the other boys, and the fact that he was now leading Zechs upstairs by the hand right there in front of the others.


	65. Juxtapositions Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei did his best to ignore the others grinning up at him as he led Zechs upstairs and into their room. He'd had just enough champagne to keep a hold on Zechs's hand until they were safe behind a closed door. Then he set the books aside on a chair, rose up on his toes a bit and kissed his lover.   
  
Zechs returned the kiss hungrily, stroking his hair with one hand as the other wandered down to cup Wufei's backside. "You like your presents, I take it?"   
  
"Yes, but that's not why I'm kissing you," he said against Zechs's lips, then found his lover's tongue with his own, sharing the slick, champagne-tinged glide of wet flesh on flesh. Then he kissed his way down the slight roughness of Zechs's cheek and chin to the smooth throat. "And the Porsche really is too much."  
  
Zechs let out a raspy chuckle. "It's only a car."  
  
Wufei sucked at an ear lobe. "A very expensive one!"  
  
"So I'm a spoiled, rich noble. It didn't occur to me to give you anything less. Are you angry with me, mei?"  
  
Wufei sighed and rested his head against Zechs's shoulder. "No, but I should be. You don't need to keep giving me such lavish presents, you know."  
  
"Of course not. That's why I enjoy doing it so much." Zechs leaned back to give him a fond look. "I have another for you, one I hope pleases you more. Two, actually, but one isn't from me."  
  
"Later," Wufei murmured, kissing him again.  
  
"No, I want to do this first. Then I'm yours." He released Wufei and went to his suitcase. Reaching into an inner pocket he took out a very small gift wrapped box and a long blue envelope. He gave him the envelope first. "These are somewhat unrelated. This one is not from me. It turned up among my papers that had accumulated during the time I was incapacitated after the war. Relena had overlooked it, and I only learned of it a few weeks ago myself."  
  
Curious, Wufei opened it and found a long complicated letter from some lawyer he'd never heard of, dated two years earlier, and what appeared to be a portion of Treize Kushrenada's will.   
  
Zechs directed him to the paragraph at bottom of the page which read, "I hereby also bequeath a sum of two million dollars to my beloved friend Milliardo Peacecraft, known to me as Zechs Merquise.  
  
I also hereby place in trust the sum of two million dollars, to be divided between the Gundam pilots known as Chang Wufei and Heero Yuy, 05 and 01 respectively, should they still be living at the time of my death, and not convicted of crimes against humanity. These funds are to be held in trust for them until they reach the age of eighteen, and forthwith made available to them to live as they see fit, with my blessing. Should one predecease the other, then the survivor shall be the recipient of the entire amount.   
  
Be it known that although we fought on opposite sides, I considered these three the finest warriors I have ever known. Would that we had met in kinder, more civilized times. I pray they will work for peace and find more success than I did."  
  
Wufei read it again, unable to believe what he was seeing. All he had left after L-5 was destroyed was his modest war pension and some savings from Preventers. The tumult of the last few months had kept him from looking to the future, but the gifts from Zechs had raised some very real fears. He didn't want to be beholden to anyone, or to be anyone's kept boy, no matter how generous Zechs was. This changed everything. He might not be as wealthy as Zechs, but his independence was assured.   
  
"But--but how can I accept this?"  
  
"Look at the date, love. This was drawn up after I left for White Fang, but Treize still named me as executor for this part of his will, and left me provided for. I don't need the money and have already donated it to the Peacecraft Trust. But you must keep yours. He wanted to help you, and you should honor his gift. I'll say the same to Heero tomorrow when I give him his copy."  
  
Tears blurred Wufei's eyes and Zechs gathered him in again and held him close. "You gave him the death he desired, my love. Trust me, he would thank you for it if he could. You are a warrior, Wufei, and I believe you understand that."  
  
"Yes," Wufei whispered, letting Zechs lead him to the armchair and draw him down into his lap. He was still tormented by Treize's death, it was true, but there was more than sorrow behind his tears. Even now, he could not admit out loud what it meant to learn that Treize had considered him the equal of Zechs and Heero. He didn't feel much like a warrior at the moment, though, sheltered in Zechs's strong arms. He drew in a shaky breath. "So, I'm rich now, too?"  
  
Zechs chuckled, a comforting raspy rumble under Wufei's ear. "Yes, you are a man of means. And you don't have to keep the car if you don't want it. I'll understand."  
  
Wufei thought about that for a moment, then sat up and shook his head. No matter what Zechs said, Wufei knew he'd be hurt if he refused it. And it would be very rude to refuse such a generous gift. "I can't wait to get home and drive it." He felt Zechs relax a little and knew he'd done the right thing.  
  
"Home," Zechs murmured, touching his cheek.   
  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
Zechs took Wufei's face in his hands and kissed him. "Nothing. Nothing at all." He held up the small box. "This is from me, and it comes with a story. Open it, please."  
  
It was a jeweler's ring box, and inside, cushioned in red velvet, was a golden ring beautifully engraved with a Chinese dragon. A small ruby had been set in its upraised claw. "It's beautiful!" Wufei gasped. "I was born in a dragon year."  
  
"I know, my love. I did a bit of research. That makes the ruby your lucky stone. But look inside the band."  
  
There, in tiny precise script, was the inscription "To my Wufei, lovelier than Long Yang, joyful as nine springtimes. Love, your Zechs."  
  
"Oh!" He recognized the reference to the poem Zechs had found for him. More tears welled up, and Wufei fumbled the ring as he tried to put it on his ring finger. It was too big.   
  
Zechs rescued it before it could roll away. "You are lovelier than that fabled beauty, Chang Wufei, and I will fill your life with such joy, if you let me. You have already given that to me." He took Wufei's left hand and slipped the ring on his forefinger, where it fit perfectly. "It goes on this finger, with no expectations or strings. It is a pledge of love and admiration, not a commitment." He kissed the back of Wufei's left ring finger. "This one we will save for later. All I ask is that you remember the great love I have for you when you look at it."  
  
"I will, Zechs. Thank you. I'll wear it always." He was surprised to see a hint of sadness in Zech's smile again. He kissed him deeply. "What is it? Are you still afraid I'll leave you?"  
  
"No. Truly I'm not, mei. But I told you it comes with a story, and here it is." He touched the jade lotus at Wufei's throat. "Treize gave me that when I was younger than you. I wanted so badly for it to mean something more than it did, and at that moment, so did he. But he couldn't be my lover, as much as we loved each other. When that became clear I put this away in a box. I couldn't part with it, but I couldn't wear it or even look at it, either. Then I met you. I admit I was feeling rather cynical when I gave it to you, but when I saw it around your neck that night, old feelings came back to me and I knew I was beginning to fall in love again, for the first time since Treize broke my heart."  
  
"But you had lots of lovers. You said so yourself."  
  
"Yes, and I loved some of them a little, too, but not the way I loved him, or you. And you've already given me so much more than he ever could, Wufei."  
  
The naked honesty in Zechs blue eyes, and the strength of love behind those words filled Wufei with something so beautiful and strong it was bordered on pain. He unclasped the leather thong of the necklace and took it off. "I'll keep this always, because you gave it to me. It means so much to me. But this," he held up the hand with the ring. "This is all I want now. I love you, Zechs. And it's not about the money or gifts or even the sex, though that is something I love very much. You see every part of me, show me parts of myself I could not accept, and show me how to love them. If I can give you even a little of that back, I will."   
  
"You did, my love, when you spoke of Sanque as home a moment ago."  
  
"You gave me a home, when you told me to come back to you. I didn't want to be anywhere else. I sat in this room alone, without you, and I was so miserable! I can't even tell you how much. I know that tonight you'll make love to me like one of those blossom boys in the poem, but tomorrow we'll meet on the practice mat as fellow warriors. I could ask for no more than that. You make me whole."  
  
Love gave him the courage to stand up, to do what he most wanted to do right now. It would be a test of both of them, and what if Zechs didn't react the way he hoped? But he couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. He wanted so much to give this to Zechs tonight.  
  
He kissed him again, pushed the leather blazer off Zechs shoulders, then fumbled at the hem of the linen shirt underneath, pulling it free from the waist of Zechs's dark slacks. This had all seemed like a very good idea back in the limo, but now he felt clumsy and ridiculous. Zechs's look of surprise didn't help, but he didn't laugh or tell him to stop. That was a good thing, because Wufei would have given up.  
  
Instead, Zechs raised his arms, letting Wufei pull the shirt, still buttoned, off over his head. Wufei took a moment to comb that silver blond hair free to frame that handsome, bemused face. Gazing up into those intense eyes, he whispered unsteadily, "I meant what I said to you earlier, during that last act of the show. The way Trowa and Quatre looked together there-it is how I feel when I'm with you. Does that make any sense at all?"  
  
"Perfect sense, mei. I felt the same."  
  
Encouraged and immensely relieved, Wufei kissed his way down that smooth chest, flicking each nipple in turn with his tongue, relishing the faint tang of salt there and the way the pink rounds of flesh hardened under his tongue. Zechs let his head fall back, and let out a long, soft "ah!" of pleasure. So far, so good. This was the first time Wufei had ever taken the initiative before lovemaking and Zechs didn't seem to mind. He had proven to be a dominant lover, a true top, but Wufei needed to know how far that went, what parameters were being set between them. On the practice floor there was no question; they were equals. But in the bedroom, Zechs had always led and Wufei had always yielded. He kissed Zechs over his heart. "I love you. You are beautiful."  
  
Zechs rest his hands around Wufei's waist. "I love you too, little Chang, and this feels very good. What are you up to, eh?"  
  
"I want to show you how much I love you."  
  
"There's no need---"  
  
"I want to. Please."   
  
Zechs smiled and let his hands fall away. Wufei stepped back a little and went to work on Zechs's belt and the fly of his trousers. They were not as tight as his jeans; they fell away and pooled around his ankles. He'd worn no underwear, and his cock was already erect and ready, the glistening tip winking up at Wufei from the top of the satiny pink foreskin. He gave it a lick in passing as he knelt and helped Zechs out of his shoes. He'd worn no socks, either. Had he been planning something of his own? No doubt. Wufei was happy to take advantage of such foresight for his own ends tonight.   
  
Zechs had remained fully clothed the first time he'd made love to Wufei. Now Wufei did the same, guiding the naked man gently back to lie on the bed. The covers had already been turned down; the sheets were dark blue satin. Zechs's doing, he wondered, or Quatre's? No matter. Zechs looked more beautiful than ever, lying against them, eyes half closed, lips parted in pleasure as Wufei knelt beside him and ran his hands lightly over that long, lean body. Zechs reached for him, but Wufei pressed his hands back to the bed beside him and Zechs let them fall again. The prosthesis makers had been great artists. Except for the metal locking ring around the left bicep, the left hand looked almost as natural as the right, even to the relaxed curl of the fingers.  
  
Wufei shook his hair forward, letting it drift and tickle over Zechs's bare skin as he took up his kissing exploration again, starting at Zechs's heart and slowly trailing down to his navel for a quick dip of the tongue there, then on down to the waiting erection. Bracing himself on one arm, he used his other hand to stroke Zechs's thighs and roll his balls as he took the hard cock deep down his throat.   
  
"Ah! Oh, Wufei!" Zechs gasped. He remained prone, but his hips undulated. "You're so good at that!"  
  
Wufei hummed happily and pinned those hips more firmly, holding Zechs still, and increased the pace of his lips up and down the shaft, increased the suction and the swirling sweep of his tongue. He raised his head until only the thick round head was between his lips and looked up to find Zechs's eyes closed. His mouth was open wide with pleasure, his cheeks and chest flushed, and all that pale hair tumbled wild over the dark pillow.   
  
Ethereal was not the right word; Zechs was far too virile, even like this, for such a word. All the coiled potential and power glowed in him, and Wufei felt a thrill of erotic pleasure at the thought that he allowed Wufei to tame him like this so willingly. It told him what he needed to know.   
  
"Keep your eyes closed," he whispered.  
  
Smiling, Zechs squeezed his lids shut tight and asked no questions.  
  
Wufei's hand shook a bit as he pulled his duffle into the bathroom and hastily changed clothes. He should have made better preparations while Zechs was in the shower earlier, but he'd been too nervous, too uncertain. No matter. He washed himself carefully, dabbed on a little of the cologne he'd purchased for the occasion, and put on the flowered blue silk kimono Zechs had given him that first night they'd made love. Gathering up the expensive beeswax pillars he'd bought under one arm, he pocketed his matches and the small bottle of lubricant. If he managed not to lose his nerve, this was to be another night of firsts.   
  
+  
  
Heero had sipped his wine slowly during the limo ride, hoping the others wouldn't notice how little he drank. They'd all had much more, and despite some playful pawing on the way upstairs, none of them were in any shape for sex by the time they got home, least of all Duo.   
  
With no show to do tomorrow, Trowa and Quatre had let themselves go, topping off the night's drinking with a few rounds of absinthe. Soused to the gills, they'd stripped naked and climbed into bed, but fallen asleep in each other's arms as soon as their heads hit the pillows. Duo had cheerfully done the same, his head on Heero's chest, bare backside snuggled against Quatre's. Under different circumstances, he might have found the situation more than a little bit of a turn on, but not tonight. Tonight had purposefully kept to the outside edge of the bed. Before long Duo was sound asleep, too, and Heero was able to free himself and steal out without waking any of them.  
  
Two more of the obscene photos had arrived, one yesterday-more of the same, and one today. He'd made certain he was there alone to get the mail when it came, but today Quatre had happened by at just the wrong moment and he'd had to hide the new one unopened in a kitchen cupboard. It had nagged at him all day, and he knew he'd never get to sleep until he saw what this one held.   
  
Going down the inside passage rather than through the garden, he passed Wufei's room. They were still awake there. Light showed under the door and he heard the low murmur of voices inside. Wound up as he was in his own troubles, he couldn't help smiling. Wufei was so different than any of the rest of them in love, so reserved and seemingly fragile, but then, he'd always been different. What Heero had told Duo was true, though. He really did think the two of them were happy together, and if he'd held any lingering resentment against Zechs, it had been banished by the look of quiet, wondering joy he'd seen on the man's face when Wufei took his hand again in the limousine. Heero understood what it took for someone like Wufei to make such a gesture in front of the rest of them, and so did Zechs. Under that solemn, reserved act of his, Wufei really was happy with Zechs.  
  
The warm feeling drained away as Heero reached the kitchen and approached the cupboard near the back door. He felt a chill, recalling how Duo had looked after seeing those photos of him being raped. That was not a look he ever wanted to see one his lover's face again--- such pain and grief and rage. That, even more than the photos, had dredged up forgotten memories that polluted Heero's dreams and left him feeling soiled to his very soul.   
  
\+   
  
Zechs gamely kept his eyes shut as he listened to the sounds of Wufei bumping around in the bathroom. Despite the wine he'd had, this new side of Wufei had him very excited, too excited to doze off without seeing what his little love had planned, now that he'd decided to take the initiative.   
  
Presently he heard the bathroom door open, the whisper of bare feet across the carpet, and the scratch of a match. He smelled sulphur and wax, then warm breath bathed his face. "Open your eyes now," whispered Wufei.  
  
The lights were off, but four large candles gave off more than enough light for him to admire the sight of Wufei standing by the bed in the silk kimono. He hadn't belted it and it hung open. He was naked underneath, and his hair hung loose over his shoulders. He'd outlined his eyes with kohl again, too.  
  
Dark blue silk rippled in the candlelight as he knelt on the bed beside Zechs and began a slow massage. Zechs rumbled happily deep in his chest as warm, slightly rough hands kneaded his arms and legs and molded the muscles of his chest. Wufei's eyes were half closed, his face still and intent.   
  
"My beautiful blossom boy," Zechs whispered as those fingers traced his face. He caught a finger that strayed across his lips and sucked it. Wufei smiled, then traced the wet tip down Zechs's chest and circled his erect nipples. Zechs purred again, then gasped as Wufei tweaked the sensitive nubs. Wufei smiled and did it again, then bent quickly and captured Zechs's weeping erection in his mouth again, and Zechs was engulfed body and soul in a wave of exquisite pleasure. Wufei licked. He sucked. He swirled the clever tongue in maddeningly erotic patterns, then shifted slightly and deep throated him. Zechs fought down the urge to buck up into that amazing, hot wet mouth, so as not to choke him. There was no question that Wufei enjoyed this and he let himself go now, moaning softly and humming deep in his throat as he took Zechs down again and again.   
  
Zechs stayed relaxed, riding the waves of pleasure, keeping himself just detached enough not to reach climax too quickly. "Oh! Ahhhhhhhhh! Oh, mei, bring your cock up here where I can suck it!"  
  
To his surprise, Wufei released his cock and sat back. Without a word, he climbed up to straddle Zechs's hips, his smooth, hairless balls a heavy caress against the base of Zechs shaft and balls. Zechs watched in growing surprise as he produced the kimono belt from one hanging sleeve and gestured for Zechs to hold up his hands. This was different! Zechs held up his crossed wrists and allowed Wufei to bind them, then draw them over Zech's head and secure them loosely to the headboard.   
  
"You are adventurous tonight!"  
  
"It's my birthday. As Maxwell observed, I'm old enought for anything now."  
  
+  
  
A stray strand of hair tickled Duo's nose and he rubbed at it, then reached out for Heero. His lover wasn't there.   
  
Opening his eyes, Duo looked blearily around for him. There was no light from the bathroom or the spare bedroom. Duo was still pretty drunk but not so far gone that concern didn't swim up through the fumes. Heero had never left the bedroom in the middle of the night before. Duo slipped out of bed and pulled on his discarded jeans. Heero had kept up a brave front about the letters and photos, but maybe things had caught up with him. His suspicions were confirmed when he stepped out on the to balcony and saw a light on in the kitchen across the way. He noted in passing that light was still showing through a gap in the curtains of Wufei's room, too. Not his concern, he told himself, feeling more sober by the moment as he hurried down the stairs and across the garden.   
  
+  
  
Quatre tossed restlessly, sleepily aware of the lack of warmth against his back. He turned over, and snuggled closer to Trowa.  
  
+  
  
Trowa muttered and rubbed at his nose.  
  
+  
  
"Wufei?" A hint of unease crept in through Zechs's arousal as the boy produced a small bottle of lubricant from his other sleeve. Wufei blushed and averted his eyes from Zechs's as he dribbled some of the slippery liquid over Zechs's erection and smoothed it over the burning skin. With past lovers Zechs would have been in danger of coming just from that and the light bondage, but instead he let out a small sound of alarm as Wufei shifted his straddled stance, spreading his legs wider on either side of Zechs's hips, and took hold of Zechs's erection, guiding the tip to his tight entrance.   
  
+  
  
Heero's hand trembled over the torn envelope and the hateful contents spilled out-- a folded sheet, scrawled wtih black block letters: "We know where you are. We can get you anytime, you murdering bastard!" The Japanese postmark, and another picture, his younger, sicker self being sodomized in ass and mouth. The same men, he thought, fighting down the despair and nausea the picture brought on. The faces were out of frame, but he recognized the bodies well enough by now. Some detached, dispassionate part of his mind noted that they not wearing the same clothes as they had in the other pictures, and that the scene had changed from the alleyway to what looked like an abandoned warehouse. How long had they kept him, hurt him? Used him like a whore.  
  
That German tabloid reporters question came back to him, twisting his gut. _// Mr. Yuy, what say you to reports that over the past two years you have sometimes supported yourself as a common street prostitute? //_  
  
Was it true? Could it be true? Heero's fingers knotted in his hair as he leaned his head in his hands and stared down at that damning picture.  
  
+  
  
Duo found him in the kitchen, sitting at the table hunched over what was obviously another of the fucking hate mails from hell. Well, from Japan, but same difference. Heero had his head in his hands and he was crying. Crying! It was soft and choked and tortured. The sound of it made Duo's finger itch for a trigger and someone to shoot. He'd start with the knees and work up, real slow.  
  
Duo knew better than to just go over and grab it away from him. "Heero? Baby? I'm here." Heero started and, safely acknowledged, Duo strode over and hugged him, pulling Heero's head to rest against his belly. Heero wrapped his arms around Duo's waist and pressed his tear-streaked face against his bare skin.   
  
"I don't--"  
  
"What, baby? You don't what?" Over Heero's shoulder Duo saw the latest picture and his stomach did a slow flip.   
  
"I can't remember everything, but some of it--- God, it hurt. I was so scared and I was too sick and weak to make them stop. What if-What if Meir was right?"  
  
"He wasn't, Heero." Hardening his heart a little, he picked up the picture and held it where Heero could see. "Does that look like consensual sex to you? Look at your face, Heero. I'm sorry, but you need to know. That wasn't sex for money or food or anything else. They were hurting you, and they're trying to hurt you now." He paused, trying to get control of his mounting rage. He crumpled the horrid picture and flung it away, then stroked Heero's disheveled hair. "I won't let them do that again, Heero. We're going to find them and we're going to make them stop." Preferably with a bullet between the eyes, he silently vowed.  
  
Heero sat back and wiped his face on his arm. He looked so lost, but anger was creeping in. For a moment Duo thought Heero was going to say something stupid, like "it's my problem and I'll fix it myself." But he didn't. He just reached out for Duo's hand and pulled him into his lap and held him tight, face pressed to Duo's bare chest as more tears leaked out.   
  
+  
  
Quatre woke with a stabbing pain in his chest. One look at the empty half of the bed told him all he needed to know. Not bothering with clothes, he slid out of bed and hurried out to find the others. Heero was in trouble.  
  
He found him in the kitchen, holding Duo on his lap. Another of the hateful letters had arrived. There was no picture in sight, mercifully enough, but Heero was pale, his eyes red from crying, and Duo looked ready to kill someone. They both looked up at him as he appeared in the doorway and both held out a hand to him. He went to them and wrapped his arms around them both. "It's going to be all right. We'll find them and make them pay." His own rage surprised them all.  
  
+  
  
Too tight. Wufei was too small, too untried. Zechs had only stretched him once before, and that was two days ago. Wufei was shivering as he straddled Zechs cock, but his downcast eyes and pursed lips spoke more of fear, not arousal. "Wufei wait, you're not ready!" Zechs pleaded, pulling at the silken bonds.   
  
"I want to give you this," Wufei whispered stubbornly, pressing the slicked head against his entrance. "I want this, and I want to give you what all those others gave you." He pressed back, still holding Zechs's cock up straight, and Zechs felt the tight resistance of that untried ring of muscle at the opening.   
  
"Mei, please wait. Let me--"  
  
Wufei pressed back harder and the ring gave a little as the tip of the head forced its way inside. He froze with a hiss of pain. The muscles in his jaw and throat flexed as he gritted his teeth against the pain. "I--I'm all right. Please, Zechs, just let me."   
  
Zechs yanked at the silk bindings. "Wufei, no, this isn't the way!" It wasn't; it was all wrong and Wufei didn't understand the kind of preparations that had to be done first. But he wasn't listening.  
  
"Give you this!" He pushed back harder and the head of Zechs's cock popped through, gripped hard by tense, unlubricated inner flesh. Wufei pushed again, too hard, then let out a sharp cry of pain. Zechs felt something warm drip down his shaft and yanked harder at his bonds, heard wood crack above his head.  
  
+  
  
Trowa sat bolt upright in bed, brought out of a dead sleep by the sound of a loud crack _//gunfire!!!!//_ somewhere nearby. Instinct outran half-awake mind.  
  
Gunfire?  
  
Room dark.  
  
Quatre missing.  
  
Then he heard the sharp cry of pain.  
  
+  
  
Downstairs, Duo both heard the cry and recognized the voice, though he'd only heard Wufei cry out like that once or twice before. "Fuck, I knew it!" he snarled as every good thought he'd had about Zechs Merquise evaporated.   
  
All three of them ran for the door. They were halfway across the garden when they heard the crash of a door being kicked in overhead.  
  
+  
  
The pain was worse than Wufei ever imagined. It only got worse as he panicked and pitched forward to pull off that huge cock. At the same moment Zechs broke free and lurched up. His forehead caught Wufei hard in the nose and the door behind them exploded.  
  
Even through their pain and shock, both of them recognized the evil snick of a pistol safety being released.  
  
+  
  
Heero bolted up the outside stair to find Trowa standing naked in the open doorway of the guestroom, training a pistol one someone inside. The door hung broken from one hinge. Trowa's green eyes were wide and confused, and his gun arm trembled but his finger was curled around the trigger. Looking past him, he found Wufei standing by the bed, also naked except for a blue kimono slipping off one shoulder, with a gun trained on Trowa. Shock, anger, and embarrassment were clear on his pale face, but there was blood running from his nose and tears on his cheeks. Zechs was on his knees on the floor just behind him, completely naked except for the blood on _his_ face, also armed and also aiming at Trowa.   
  
"Trowa," Quatre said calmly but firmly, pushing past Heero and going to his lover. "It's all right, querido. You flashed, but you're ok. We're all here with you. It's all right." He glanced into the room, then closed his hand gently over Trowa's gun hand, making him lower it. Wufei lowered his weapon slowly, but made no move to stand down.  
  
"Quatre?" Trowa blinked, then let his lover take the gun.   
  
Heero and Duo approached cautiously. Quatre had an arm around Trowa now, murmuring softly to him as he handed the gun off to Heero.  
  
Heero took it and looked past them again. "05?"  
  
"All clear," Wufei growled. Zechs stood up beside him and eased the safety on his weapon. It was clear what had been going on, but neither of them was erect, Heero couldn't stop himself from noting. Fuck, even limp Zechs was huge! He felt himself color as he made himself look away. Then he saw the trickle of blood running down the inside of Wufei's left thigh.  
  
And the stinking, garbage-strewn pavement of that long ago alley was rushing up to meet him as he fainted.


	66. Juxtapositions Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero wished he'd left the hateful envelope alone until the next day. Coming to in the large bed with everyone else, even Zechs, hovering over him, was almost as embarrassing as the realization that he'd actually fainted in front of all of them. Duo was kneeling beside the bed, regarding him with concern. Trowa lay next to Heero, still looking pale but less confused as he leaned back against Quatre's chest. They were both wrapped in bathrobes. Wufei and Zechs, in sweats and tee-shirts now, stood uneasily near the bedroom door.   
  
_// Wufei and Zechs //  
  
// A cry //  
  
// Blood trickling down one pale golden thigh // _  
  
The next thing he knew, Heero had Zechs pinned against the wall, one forearm across the taller man's throat, heart pounding in his ears. "You hurt him!" he heard himself hiss. Zechs didn't resist, just stood there, breath whistling in his constricted throat.  
  
Wufei tackled him from behind, pulling at Heero's arm. "Let him go! It wasn't his fault!"  
  
But Heero had been working out, and his strange metabolism had hardened his muscles again. He might not be as strong as he once was, but he was stronger than Wufei, and driven by adrenaline and panic.  
  
Then Quatre was there, too, closing a hand firmly over the hand under Zechs's right ear. "It's all right, Heero. It's not what you think," he soothed and the panic began to recede. "You've got it all mixed up in your mind with the photos."  
  
Heero released Zechs and stepped back, legs dangerously unsteady under him again, but Duo was with him now, holding him, guiding him back to the bed. "Easy, baby. It's OK. They understand. C'mon, lay down before you fall down."   
  
Heero settled stiffly against the headboard, then looked back at Wufei, who was glaring at him, an arm around Zechs's waist. 05 didn't look abused, just pissed off and ready to defend his boyfriend.   
  
"It's all right, mei," Zechs murmured to him, one arm around Wufei's shoulders. Wufei glanced up at him, and then relaxed his guard.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Heero mumbled, looking from one to the other, trying to read the situation there. Of course Zechs wouldn't hurt Wufei, any more than Wufei would allow himself to be abused, but the blood . . . It was too close to the memories that had overwhelmed Heero in the kitchen moments before. He sank his face in one shaking hand, fighting back nausea.  
  
"I understand, Heero," Zechs rasped. "Duo and the others have explained everything. I'd like to help, if I can."  
  
"We both would," Wufei said, calming down. He sat on the edge of the bed beside Heero and Duo. "I'm out of Preventers, but I know Sally will help if I ask. The envelopes and letters should be run through the spectra analysis lab for prints, and the photos-"  
  
"No!" Heero shuddered, imagining people he'd once worked with seeing him like that, knowing what he'd let . . . What had happened. And what if Meir had been right? What sort of headlines would that make? "No, I'll handle this."  
  
" _We'll_ handle this," Duo corrected. "Look around, Heero. Four other people in this room spent two years worrying themselves sick about you, doing everything we could to find you, help you. You think we're not going to do it now?"  
  
"Damn straight," muttered Trowa, clasping Heero's free hand in a bruising grip. "This is _not_ going to be another a solo mission, 01." The others nodded agreement.  
  
Heero let out a shaky sigh. "All right. I just--I'm not sure where to start." That was as frightening as anything else. Was this what he'd been like, living on the streets? He felt lost and hated it.  
  
"We start with that son of a bitch paparazzi, Meir," Quatre said. "He's the only reporter since you came back to even suggest that something like that had happened to you. I checked him out a while ago. His paper, the Weltbeobachter, may be a tabloid, but it's one of the better ones. They actually get things right some of the time. We need to find out who his source was for that."  
  
"We know the letters came from that Tokyo district, Kisarazu. We should go there, too," Trowa added, glowering under his long bangs and looking better by the minute as he settled into mission mode.   
  
Heero cut them both off with a look of disbelief. "You two can't just take off, walk away from your show! You're opening in New York in a few weeks."  
  
Trowa's one visible eye narrowed. "If you think for on minute that this isn't more important than--"  
  
"Easy, Tro," Duo cut in. "It's not like we won't ask for your help when the times comes to take these bastards out."  
  
"He's right," Wufei agreed. "It seems there isn't much to go on yet, but the initial stage intel work doesn't take that many people. I happen to be unemployed at the moment."  
  
"So am I." Zechs chuckled. "And I still have a few connections."  
  
"Yes he does. So let us do the first stage recon."  
  
Trowa opened his mouth to object, but Quatre stopped him. "They're right," he told his glowering husband. "I don't like it, either, but they're right. We've worked too hard to create this circus and we have people depending on us. We'll keep up business as usual for now, until they really need us. In the meantime, we can coach Allie and Mike for a couple of substitution acts, just in case."  
  
"I'm concerned about security for you here, too," Zechs said. "The latest letter could be interpreted as threat. I think it would be foolish not to assume the possibility that they are here, or planning to come here. The Circus's schedule is no secret. If Duo and Heero are with you, they'll know where to find them. Quatre, do the Maguanacs still work for you?"  
  
"Uh, don't go there," Duo warned.  
  
Heero winced and shot Quatre a concerned glance. The blond boy blushed unhappily; it was still a very sore point.  
  
Brave, loyal, devout Rashid and the others had not taken the revelation of their Master Quatre's sexual orientation very well. Quatre and Trowa had kept it a secret when they became lovers in the last days of the war, but afterwards, when Quatre had 'gone off the rails' as Duo put it, he'd made no effort to hide the fact, or his wild lifestyle at the time, and after several unpleasant scenes, Rashid and the others had lost patience and gone their own way back home. Heero had learned all this from Duo, who'd been there to witness most of it, though it had been Trowa, as usual, who'd picked up the pieces and held Quatre together. Quatre had never spoken of it around Heero, but clearly it remained an open wound in that tender heart. Duo was certain that it had hurt him far more than the anger of some of his sisters. It hadn't helped that Quatre had been devout himself, when he was younger, and had had a hard time accepting his own nature. To have people he loved and respected condemn him for being gay only fed whatever guilt he might still have.  
  
"So what now?" Trowa demanded, still not pleased with the game plan.  
  
"It's late and Heero's exhausted," Duo said. "Let's all get some sleep and work out the details tomorrow. OK?"  
  
Heero glanced over at the nightstand clock. It was nearly five. "Yes. Wufei, I'm so sorry to spoil your birthday with all this. I meant to wait a few more days, let you enjoy the city . . ."  
  
Wufei gave him an insulted look but those black eyes were full of compassion. "I only regret I didn't know sooner. This can't be allowed to go on. Now, if you will excuse us?" Zechs went out, but Wufei paused at the doorway, suddenly looking more uncomfortable than ever. "I--uh--That is, the lock on our door is broken, and--Well, I would appreciate it if you'd all disregard anything you might hear from our room during the rest of our stay. You have nothing to be concerned about. You have my word." With a last stiff nod and slight, pained smile, he was gone.  
  
Duo snickered as he pulled off his jeans and reached for the fly of Heero's. "He's right. We all owe him, big time, as far as night noise goes."  
  
"But what did happen?" Heero demanded, still unable to shake off his own unease.  
  
Trowa chuckled as he stretched out between Heero and Quatre. "I think 05 finally got his cherry popped."  
  
Quatre gasped, punching his husband on the shoulder. "Trowa Barton!"  
  
Duo buried his face in his pillow, snorting with laughter. "Jesus, did you see? Old Zechsy's hung like a Clydesdale! No wonder poor Wuffie yelled!"  
  
Heero elbowed him disapprovingly. "Our first time wasn't much better at first, if you recall."  
  
"Sorry," Duo said, exchanging an unrepentant grin with Trowa. "I'm just having a hell of a time with this whole 'gay Wufei' thing to begin with, and now this? I mean, for all the people in the world to wind up with witnesses? Trowa waving guns at them and-Shit! I mean, put some lipstick on that mess, 'cause it was ugly!"  
  
"It must have been excruciatingly embarrassing for him," Quatre chided. "He's very modest."  
  
"Yeah, remember the look on his face when he burst in on us, back in Madrid?" Duo shook his head. "He was the one with clothes on, but I think he was more embarrassed than you were, Heero."  
  
"I wasn't embarrassed. I just didn't want an audience."  
  
"My favorite incident is still when Relena found out about you two," said Trowa. "I wonder if she's recovered from the shock yet?"  
  
"I wouldn't know. I haven't heard from her since, except through secretaries," Heero sighed. He didn't exactly miss her, and he was glad that things were cleared up between them as to his sexual preferences, but he did feel a little guilty over the way things had ended between them. Relena had been a pest back in the early days, but she'd also gone out of her way to help him, especially in Madrid. He still hadn't figured out why the others seemed to dislike her so intensely.  
  
+  
  
Alone in their room at last, door propped back in place with a chair jammed firmly under the knob, Wufei sagged in Zechs's arms and let out a groan. "That may have been the single most embarrassing moment of my entire life."  
  
Zechs's chest vibrated against his cheek as he laughed softly. "And even so, you'd armed yourself and were shielding me before I could even find my gun."  
  
"Only by a few seconds," Wufei reminded him.   
  
"Sometimes that makes all the difference. Most impressive, little Chang."   
  
That was said teasingly, but Wufei could tell that the praise was genuine. He was glad of it, but it didn't stop the shame he'd held at bay until now from sweeping back over him. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have forced you to do that!"  
  
Zechs cupped Wufei's chin in one hand and made him look up. "If I'd had any idea what you were really up to, I'd have stopped you sooner. You were too tired and too tense to try anything like that yet, and you didn't give me the time to prepare you. I won't scold you for that. However--" He paused, making certain he had Wufei's full attention. "I did tell you no, and you didn't stop. I'll forgive you that, too, since you're so new to all this, but you mustn't ever do that again. If you want to play bondage games, I'm more than happy to join you, but top and bottom both have to respect the other's signals."  
  
Wufei felt his face go scarlet. "Forgive me. I spoiled everything."  
  
Zechs hugged him. "Nothing of the sort, and nothing to forgive. You didn't know any better. Now you do. For now, Wufei, let me remain your older, wiser lover. There'll be plenty of time later, when you're more experienced, for surprises." He kissed Wufei softly on the lips. "How are you? Truthfully. Does it hurt much?"  
  
"My nose still aches a little."  
  
"You know that's not what I meant."  
  
Wufei swallowed, then hid his face against Zechs's chest again and nodded. His ass did hurt like hell and felt like it might still be bleeding a little.   
  
"Let me see."   
  
"No!"   
  
"Yes, and now." Zechs ordered. "Believe me, this isn't the first time I've done this." He guided him to bed and made him bend over, bracing his hands on the mattress.  
  
Wufei squeezed his eyes shut, mortified, as Zechs pulled down his loose pants.  
  
"Relax, mei," he murmured behind him, raising the tail of Wufei's tee shirt and kissing his lower back. "You're still so tense, and that's what got you in trouble in the first place. I'm just going to have a look, all right? Relax now." He gently parted Wufei's cheeks with his thumbs, then stroked his hips. "It's not too bad, but there's definitely some tearing. I'll run a hot bath."  
  
Wufei kicked off the fallen pants and burrowed miserably under the blankets, listening to the rush of water in the next room. What had made him try such a thing? And to do it so badly? He twisted the beautiful ring Zechs had given him around on his finger, watching the ruby catch the light. He knew Zechs wanted to make love to him like that. He'd said so. But it was impossible! How would he ever get up the courage to try it again, even with Zechs's help and preparation, whatever that meant? But if he couldn't manage it, what then?   
  
He was half sick with worry and exhaustion by the time Zechs came to fetch him. He said nothing, just led Wufei by the hand like a child into the old fashioned bathroom. The huge claw footed tub was filled with steaming water, and Zechs had added salts that turned the water a pale blue. It smelled like juniper and orange, and rose petals floated on the surface.   
  
"Your final present," Zechs said, smiling down at him. He lifted Wufei's shirt off over his head, then placed Wufei's on his hips, just below the hem of his black tee shirt and gave him an expectant smile.  
  
Wufei blinked then, understanding, grasped the soft fabric and pulled the shirt up and off. Zechs undid the tie at the waist of his pants and let them fall. Taking Wufei's hand again, he stepped into the tub and leaned back, guiding Wufei to lie against his chest between his legs. The hot water stung his abused flesh and he hissed and shifted his hips, trying to get comfortable. A few tiny tendrils of red drifted up from between his thighs. He moved one leg to dissipate them before Zechs saw, but not quickly enough.  
  
Zechs wrapped his arms around Wufei and stroked his cheek. "Relax now, mei. The salts will help you heal faster."  
  
Wufei wanted to obey, but he couldn't. His mind was still racing, finding worries on every side. What if Zechs didn't want a lover he couldn't fuck? Wufei couldn't blame the man for that, after all.  
  
Perhaps his fear showed, or maybe Zechs had had this kind of experience before, because he was kissing and stroking him now, running loving hands over Wufei's chest and belly, and possessively cupping his limp, floating genitals in one hand. He wasn't in the mood to feel aroused; instead, it was comforting to feel those large hands touching him like that.   
  
"You'll make yourself ill, worrying in silence, love."  
  
"What if I can't do it?" Wufei whispered. What if someday there was no Zechs to hold him in bed at night, no Zechs to wake up with and spar with and play chess with. No Zechs to hold him tight like this? He turned over and wrapped his arms around Zechs as best he could, hot water lapping up under his chin. "I really did want to!"  
  
Wet fingers traced his eyebrow, his cheekbone. "I know. But I also think you were trying to prove something?"  
  
"I want to give you all you need!" Wufei blurted out.  
  
"You do! Don't ever doubt that. That kind of sex isn't easy and it's not to everyone's taste, either, no matter what the pornos show."  
  
"I've never seen that kind of porno." Actually, he'd never had much use for any trash like that. "I just--In Le Fleur, I could tell you enjoyed it. I mean, that's what you're getting me ready for, isn't it? You said so, the other night."  
  
"Oh, Wufei!" Zechs said sadly. "You have no idea how I regret dragging you there like that. Listen to me, now. If you're never able to enjoy anal sex, then so be it. If you think that what we have done is not just as satisfying, you're wrong. You are a wonderful lover, a delight in every way, and I've never had a more talented or enthusiastic mouth on my cock. If that's all we ever do, I won't feel like I'm settling for second best, and I won't go looking for someone else to give me that. I promise you Wufei, I would never, ever do that to you."  
  
Wufei hugged him harder. He wanted so much to believe that!  
  
"You have to understand, Wufei, that the body is not really made for such activities, pleasurable though they are, if done right. But there are ways to make it easier. Remember what I did for you with my fingers the other night?"  
  
Wufei nodded and felt a tiny stir of arousal at the memory.   
  
"I know it hurt a little at first, but once you relaxed it felt very, very good, didn't it?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"My cock is no thicker than those fingers, and you were able to enjoy that. But it is big, and you are very tight, my lovely little virgin. If you do decide that you want to try it again--"  
  
"I will!"  
  
"If you do, Wufei--"  
  
"I will!" he insisted again, sitting up. "And I'm not a virgin anymore. You're big, Zechs, but I still want to feel you inside me. I'll let you do everything your way next time. We can try again tonight! I feel better."  
  
Zechs tapped him on the nose. "Liar. You'll need a few days at least to heal properly, and I'll say when. It's your task to take care of yourself, and not give in to guilt or fear or any of those silly things in the meantime."  
  
Dawn was breaking outside their curtains when they settled down in bed together. Head resting on Zechs's chest, Wufei vowed he would be worthy of this man. "Did Heero hurt you?"  
  
"He could have, if he'd really wanted to. But no, I'm fine. And proud that you have such devoted friends looking out for you. I'm sorry he's still so haunted by the past."  
  
"That's going to stop," Wufei whispered fiercely. If Heero and Duo hadn't tracked him down on L-5, he might not be lying here with this man tonight. "It's going to stop."


	67. Frayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero woke first, heart racing with yet another morning anxiety attack despite Duo and Trowa's arms wrapped around him. This was getting to be a regular thing. Dr. Batoosingh didn't seem overly concerned, so he'd seen no reason to burden the others with this. They were worried enough about him as it was, with all the crying and--he winced inwardly--that little fainting spell last night. Doing it in front of people who loved you didn't make it any less embarrassing. Between that and the scene in Wufei's room, it had been quite a night.   
  
He gently disentangled himself from the others and slipped out of bed. Trowa muttered and turned over to snuggle under Quatre's chin. Duo opened his eyes and reached for Heero with a sleepy smile.   
  
"'K, baby?"   
  
Heero pulled the covers up under Duo's chin and kissed him. "It's early. Go back to sleep."   
  
Duo mumbled some argument, but his eyes fluttered shut again.   
  
Heero pulled on his exercise sweats and a tee shirt and went downstairs. He crossed the misty garden and used the bathroom next to the kitchen, then splashed his face with cold water. The eyes looking back at him over the top of the towel were still red and haunted, and he needed a shave.   
  
_//Who are you . . .//_  
  
Water streaked his cheeks like tears.   
  
_//Who am I . . .//_  
  
The hint of unwelcome memory; a haggard, unshaven face staring back at him from some cracked, flyspecked mirror in some filthy, long-forgotten toilet . . .   
  
_//Where am I?//_  
  
He scrubbed the water from his face and threw the towel over the rack. He didn't remember, didn't _need_ to remember. He knew more than enough already and it was time to take action.   
  
Striding purposefully out of the bathroom, he headed for to the kitchen for a drink of water. Marie was already at work; he could smell something good baking, and coffee. Expecting only the cook, he halted in surprise in the doorway. Quatre was at the table, yawning over a mug of coffee. Another one had been poured for Heero, with just the right amount of milk. Marie was nowhere to be seen. He dropped a quick kiss on the top of that tousled blond and blue hair and sat down with his coffee. "I tried not to wake you. You should go back to bed."   
  
"Couldn't sleep," Quatre mumbled, yawning again. "How's the anxiety doing?"   
  
Heero sighed and set his cup down. "You knew."   
  
"Of course."   
  
"I'm OK. And yes, I talked to Dr. B."   
  
Quatre looked unconvinced. "I love you, so I worry. Sue me."   
  
Heero reached across and clasped his hand. "It's under control."   
  
Quatre's fingers curled around his. Heero found himself pulling on that hand, drawing Quatre up from his chair and into his lap, holding him the way he'd held Duo last night; Quatre's feet dangled, not touching the floor. Quatre felt very different than Duo, settled differently in his arms, smelled different. Heero rested his face in the curve of Quatre's neck, enjoying the comforting closeness. Quatre smelled spicy and exotic, with traces of Trowa's musk mixed in. "I'm going to miss this."   
  
Quatre swallowed hard; Heero could feel it against his cheek. "I wish you two would come with us."   
  
"Hn." The closer they got to the actual parting, the harder it was to figure out why he and Duo weren't going with them. "I've got to get this other matter settled. Then--well, we'll see."   
  
Quatre kissed him on the forehead and looked him in the eye. "You're going to be careful, aren't you? You're going to remember that this isn't the war anymore. You can't do things like we used to."   
  
"I know." Heero looked up into those big blue eyes. Quatre had grown up a lot, gotten taller, lost that babyish look he'd had when they first met, but those eyes hadn't changed at all. They were still windows into a very kind, caring soul. Heero smiled, running his fingers through that messy hair, smoothing the clump of blue strands into place. Then, without thinking much about it, he drew him into a tender kiss.   
  
More than friends. Not quite lovers. Quatre's mouth didn't open and neither did Heero's. But whatever this was, it felt good and right.   
  
"Hey, can I get me some of that?" Duo chuckled, wandering in to join them. Quatre shifted over so he was perched on Heero's knee, leaving the other open for Duo. Duo settled into place and kissed Quatre the way Heero had, then went a bit deeper with Heero. 'Marking his territory,' Heero thought with amusement. Duo's mouth tasted nice, all tingly with mouthwash.   
  
"Tro still asleep?" Quatre asked.   
  
"Yeah. He hardly twitched when I got up."   
  
Quatre sighed. "That was a bad flashback."   
  
"He hasn't had one like that in a long time, has he?" asked Duo.   
  
Quatre shook his head.   
  
"Maybe he should cut back on the drinking," Heero said, concerned. They'd all been drinking more since they'd been in New Orleans, even Duo, though only when they went out and never too much on nights before a show.   
  
"Probably," Quatre agreed. "When he was worried about his feelings for you, right before the 'intervention', he got like this, only worse. Now, with us getting ready to split up again, and this threat, I see some of the signs. To be honest, I'm starting to get a little worried about him doing 'Red Silk'."   
  
"All the more reason to get this problem settled," said Duo.   
  
"I'll speak with him, if you think it will do any good," Heero offered. "I want him safe. And I don't want anything messing up the Circus. You two have worked too hard and things are taking off for you. If I thought I was messing that up--"   
  
"Trowa makes his own problems, in his own mind," Quatre replied quietly. "He's a complex guy. I'm just glad things have worked out the way they have between the four of us."   
  
Duo chuckled again. "Yeah, and he's already making room for Wu and Zechs."   
  
"As guests. You guys are family."   
  
"And you guys are heavy." Heero gave them both a nudge and they let him up. He stretched his legs. "Have some coffee and finish waking up, Duo. Then come join me in the practice room. I need a workout."   
  
Duo rolled his eyes comically. "Uh oh, and not the kind I like, right?"   
  
The practice room lay at the far end of the downstairs corridor, at the front of the house. Heero was halfway there when he heard the distinctive thumps and grunts of a sparring exercise.   
  
Wufei and Zechs must have been up for some time already. Dressed only in loose cotton pants, both of them were flushed and sweating as they tossed each other around the mats. Heero leaned in the doorway, at once surprised and impressed.   
  
He knew they'd been training together, but after last night, seeing Zechs so attentive and Wufei so shy, the naked aggression on display now was something of a shock. The shy lover was nowhere to be seen; this was the 05 Heero knew best, giving no quarter to his tall lover. Zechs was no slouch at hand to hand, either. The locking ring of his prosthetic arm was the only give away of his altered condition. He moved naturally, and the hand and arm worked as fluidly and strongly as his real ones.   
  
Ignoring Heero's presence, they circled each other, watching for openings and weaknesses. Then Wufei leaped into a kick spin and caught Zechs with a barely pulled strike to the shoulder. Zechs hit the wall, but rebounded instantly and ducked another kick, getting under Wufei's guard this time and kicking his other leg out from under him. Wufei hit the ground turning and narrowly avoided getting pinned. He sprang to his feet before Zechs could recover and knocked him off balance again. Heero recognized most of the moves, but this looked more like a brawl. Wufei's mouth was grim, his dark eyes blazing. Zechs was grinning, but not in a loving way. They stopped short of drawing blood, but only just. Wufei finally winded Zechs with a light blow to the solar plexus, then pinned him to the mat, one hand fisted in Zech's hair, the other pulled back for a killing blow.   
  
Heero had already taken a step forward in alarm when Zechs let his hands fall to the mat in a gesture of surrender.   
  
Wufei didn't loosen his grip as he leaned down and growled, "That's two for me, one for you. Had enough?" Rising gracefully to his feet, he clasped Zechs hand and pulled him up.   
  
"No, but we have other things to do today," Zechs said, smiling as he turned to Heero. "Good morning. Want to go a few rounds? I warn you, we're all warmed up."   
  
Heero was still recovering his strength and skill, and had had only Duo to spar with. Duo was quick, and no easy match, but close combat had never been his strong suit. Wufei pinned Heero twice in the first ten minutes.   
  
"You're out of shape, Yuy," he taunted as they circled for a new round.   
  
Heero ignored the remark. He was just getting warmed up, and his mind was busy, calling up all he knew of Wufei's fighting style from the old days. A moment later the Chinese man was flat on his back, Heero's bare foot pressed to his larynx. "Maybe, but you still have that giveaway twitch in your eyebrow, Chang. You might as well yell, 'I'm going right.'"   
  
"Ha! Told you," Zechs gloated.   
  
Heero released him and caught the hint of a grimace as Wufei sat up. He knew that look; he'd seen Duo like that, after a long night of getting his ass screwed through the mattress. He fought back a grin.   
  
Wufei caught it anyway and colored suddenly. "Perhaps you'd like to try Zechs?" he muttered, then blushed even harder at what his own ill chosen words. "You two should spar."   
  
Duo drifted in and the four of them went at it for half an hour. Trowa and Quatre appeared, dressed for their morning yoga workout, and stayed a safe distance away, watching and commenting as they went through some warm up stretching.   
  
Duo picked himself up after a third hard put down by Zechs and retreated to the edge of the mat, muttering, "I like my strategy better. Run, hide, carry a loaded gun!"   
  
"Works for me," Trowa agreed. Putting his hands on Quatre's hips, he lifted his husband over his head as easily as if Quatre weighed no more than a child. Quatre flipped upside down, braced on Trowa's hands and bend backwards to rest his feet on Trowa's shoulders, showing off.   
  
Heero saw Zechs lick his lips at the sight. The man might be smitten with Wufei, and totally loyal to his lover, but he wasn't blind, either.   
  
+  
  
Quatre caught the flash of lust from Zechs and stifled a frown. Slipping out of Trowa's grasp, he guided him into less showy moves. Merquise had better watch his step, and keep his thoughts to himself. There hadn't been any real intent behind it, but Quatre still felt protective toward Wufei.   
  
There was something going on between those two this morning, too. He'd felt it during the sparring match, watching how aggressively Wufei tackled his lover. He reached out tentatively and got the hint of very mixed feelings, mostly confusion, but with some shame. That couldn't be good. But he also got the distinct impression that Wufei was thinking of him, as if he wanted to talk but was uneasy about initiating anything.   
  
When practice was over, he lured Wufei back to the kitchen alone with the offer of tea while Zechs and the others went to shower.   
  
Wufei had come along willingly enough, but now he looked apprehensive, Quatre noted as he puttered about, warming the china pot and measuring out an expensive Oolong black musk.   
  
Wufei inspected the label approvingly. "Poobong Estate. Nice. When we first met you were still using those vile teabags."   
  
Quatre took the kettle off the boil, let it cool for a count of ten, and then filled the pot. A woody sweet aroma drifted up as the dark leaves expanded. An uncomfortable silence settled in as they waited for it to steep. Quatre was getting mixed vibes from Wufei without really trying.   
  
At last he turned to Wufei, just in time to see him wince again as he sat down at the table. "Do you-uh---need to talk about anything? I know it's none of my business, of course, but as a friend-and, well, I know what it's like, getting used to---"   
  
Wufei swallowed noticeably, and cast a quick glance at the open doorway. Marie was in the next room, doing laundry. Quatre nodded, poured tea for both of them, and led him up to the front parlor where they could talk in private.   
  
Wufei sat down gingerly in a cushioned armchair and turned his mug nervously in his hands. Quatre settled in the footstool in front of him and patted Wufei's knee. "Anything you need to say stays between us, I promise. I know how hard it is for you to talk about certain things."   
  
Wufei gave him a pained look. "Zechs didn't do anything wrong last night." It was obviously s very important he make that clear, just as it had been last night. He hadn't told them much then, just enough to keep Duo from attacking Zechs. "I--that is I tried something I wasn't physically ready for. He did try to stop me, but I wouldn't listen."   
  
"I understand." Quatre didn't need to touch minds to guess what had happened. He knew how single-minded Wufei could be, and they'd all seen the telltale trickle of blood. "So, how can I help?"   
  
Wufei took a long sip from his mug. "I have no idea. Except--well, last night I couldn't help noticing that Trowa--That he is, he has--"   
  
"A big cock?" Quatre finished for him.   
  
Wufei blushed pink, then nodded. "Uh, yes. And so, when he's--well, uh--"   
  
"Erect?"   
  
Wufei looked as if he'd rather be flayed alive than continue this conversation, but he nodded. "Yes, that. When he is, he must be even--"   
  
"Mmm hmm." Quatre couldn't help a little flutter of pride. "He's a 'shower' and a 'grower,' as they say. Not weird big or anything, but pretty impressive."   
  
"Yes. Well." It was a good thing Quatre had used mugs rather than the delicate Japanese teacups or Wufei would probably be holding a handful of broken porcelain and hot water right now. "And, well, you're so much smaller. Oh god, I don't mean-not that your--"   
  
"Cock?" Quatre offered helpfully, fighting back a fit of laughter that threatened to overwhelm his genuine concern.   
  
"No, that's very--I mean I assume from what I saw--I didn't mean to look, of course, but the two of you burst in like that!"   
  
"Wufei, it's OK. The rest of us aren't particularly modest, I have no issues about the size of my penis in relation to anyone else's, and I know what you're trying to say. Trowa _is_ a lot bigger than I am, physically. Just like Zechs is bigger than you are. And I'm guessing that you're having trouble--" It was his turn to pause, but only to find some way to spare Wufei's feelings. Poor Wufei looked ready to either bolt or crawl under his chair. "You have trouble accommodating him."   
  
"Yes. Precisely," Wufei admitted, looking utterly miserable.   
  
"Is he, uh, forcing the issue in any way?"   
  
"No! God, no! I told you, I was the one doing that. And now he's gotten all protective again and won't even talk about it until I'm-- healed."   
  
Quatre began to understand why they'd been sparring so aggressively. Wufei needed to prove something and Zechs knew to help by giving no quarter. It hadn't been anything like anger, at least not at each other. "He's right. You can do yourself some serious harm doing that sort of thing the wrong way. Just relax and let him take the lead."   
  
"I am! I do! I'm more than happy to, most of the time, but this is different." He looked around as if he expected someone to be eavesdropping, then lowered his voice. "You swear you won't talk about this, not even with Trowa?"   
  
"You have my word."   
  
Wufei drank the rest of his tea and set the mug aside. That look of pain was back as he fell back in his chair and rubbed at his face. "The truth is, Quatre, that I've had to overcome a considerable number of beliefs about myself to be Zechs's lover. Not that I didn't want to, but, at times it's very difficult. He's been completely wonderful. I couldn't have done it at all if he wasn't so kind and understanding. But it's uncovered a side of myself that I didn't know existed, and one I'm not entirely comfortable with yet. I'm still--still--Damn it, I get scared, Quatre!" He finished in a rush and Quatre got a crystal clear flash of where that element of shame had been coming from. It wasn't about sex at all, or even pain; it was about his pride as a man and a warrior. Chang Wufei had never accepted fear in himself in any form, for any reason.   
  
"It _is_ scary sometimes, isn't it?" Quatre offered softly. "I had to go against some very important teaching myself, when I realized how much I needed to be with Trowa. Family, tradition, all that. I couldn't not love him, but it was hard at first. The physical part especially can take some getting use to, I agree. And of course, people aren't all made the same way, either. It's possible that you just can't do it that way, with him being so big and all." It was Quatre's turn to blush a little. Wufei and Zechs had both given him an eyeful last night, and Duo's assessment hadn't been too much of an exaggeration, especially if Zechs was a grower, too.   
  
"It's not the physical discomfort I mind," Wufei insisted softly. "It's the fear. All my life, I've dealt with that by facing it head on. Zechs has helped me past a lot of that, but this--this I must do myself." He clenched his hands together in his lap and whispered hoarsely, "He truly is _wonderful_ to me, Quatre. I can't even begin to tell you-- He gives me everything I could possibly need or want, and more besides. I cannot, _will not_ , let this one thing I can give _him_ be ruined by fear on my part."   
  
The sincerity of those words brought a lump to Quatre's throat, but he could still feel the very real fear there. "I understand what you're saying, Wufei, but do _you_ want it?"   
  
Instead of answering, Wufei took Quatre's hand and placed it over his heart. Caught off guard by such an unexpected move, he didn't have time to block the willing nakedness of that heart. One minute he was sitting there, looking up at Wufei. The next . . .   
  
+  
  
Wufei realized an instant too late that he should have known better, given what had happened the last time he asked Quatre to 'read' him. He'd only meant to for him to get an impression of what he felt for Zechs. Instead, Quatre had let out a soft, all too familiar sort of wail and slid bonelessly off the footstool at Wufei's feet.   
  
He'd just given Quatre Winner-Barton an orgasm.   
  
Stunned and mortified, he could only sit there, still stupidly holding his friend's hand, while Quatre gasped and shivered, then tried to collect himself.   
  
He pulled his hand free and sat up, looking as stunned as Wufei felt.   
  
"Oh, Winner, I'm so sorry!"   
  
Quatre blinked and looked ruefully down at the wet spot showing thorugh the front of his loose yoga pants. "Well, I guess that answers my question."   
  
"I didn't mean to, honestly! Does-oh god, does this mean we had sex?"   
  
Quatre laughed. "No, but we proably should avoid it happening again, don't you think?" He got to his feet a little shakily. "Stay put. I'll be right back."   
  
As soon as he was gone, Wufei sank his face in his hands, embarassed beyond measure. What had possessed him to confide such personal details? He'd never be able to look Quatre in the eye again as long as he lived! Not that it had been all that easy after last night. Yes, he'd seen a good deal more than he'd needed or wanted to, including the fact that, in addition to his tattoos and jewelry, Quatre had several scrotal piercings.   
  
Quatre came back a few minutes later, wearing a fresh pair of pants and not looking the least upset by what had just happened. Smiling, he perched on the arm of Wufei's chair and showed him a catalogue with a tastefully abstract cover. Opening it to a page near the middle, he held it down for him to see. "I think something like this might help, if you're determined to do it yourself."   
  
Wufei's eyes widened. It was a sex toys catalogue and Quatre had opened it to a section called "Anal Dildos". There were dozens of different shapes and sizes, not to mention colors. Some looked like actual penises; others like sculpture. It was incomprehensible.   
  
"Back when Trowa and I were still learning to be intimate, I was having the same sort of problems you are. These were a real help."   
  
"R-really?" Wufei stammered, feeling a bit faint. "But there are- so many!"   
  
Quatre grinned. "Well you don't need to use all of them! Especially not at first. See this one here?" He pointed to a slender translucent blue very penis-shaped one labeled 'Slim Rider Jelly Dong'. "See, it comes in different sizes, so you could start with the smallest one and work-"   
  
"Yes, I understand," Wufei croaked.   
  
Quatre flipped a few pages to the section labeled 'Butt Plugs.' "These are good, too. You could start with something like the 'Tiny Titan'. Some you can even leave in during the day. The vibrating ones are good, if you're looking for more than just stretching. Oh, and you'll need lubricant. That's here on page twenty five."   
  
He was unbelievably matter of fact about it all, not to mention that fact that he'd just come at Wufei's feet and told him, or tried to tell him, some of the more intimate details of his sex life with Trowa. Wufei was so embarassed he hardly knew where to look. Quatre had the magazine laid out over his lap now, pondering the relative merits of cock rings. Wufei tried to imagine himself ordering something from this catalog. Where would he have it mailed? Was the packaging discreet?   
  
He couldn't imagine Quatre or the others having any such qualms. They all seemed as fearless about sex as they had been about battle. His embarrassment lessened a little and he looked up at Quatre. "Thank you. I'll consider this. Thank you for your help."   
  
"Any time." Smiling, Quatre closed the magazine and handed it to him. "You can keep this. I'm on their mailing list."   
  
Wufei accepted it and shook his head. "Thank you for your confidences, too. I didn't realize it had been difficult for you. But the others, they seem so at ease with it all."   
  
"They are. But they were raised differently than we were. But believe me, Wufei, you're doing just fine. Knowing what you want is half the battle and from what you 'flashed' me before, you're getting it!" He stood up and stretched. "So, have I embarassed you enough for one day?"   
  
"Yes, but thank you. And about what happened? I am sorry. I didn't mean to."   
  
"Don't worry about it; you're not the first." He grinned up at Wufei from under his shaggy bangs. "I wouldn't mind a hug, though, considering."   
  
Wufei hugged him, and was surprised at how natural and good it felt, standing there with Quatre's arms around him. It wasn't sexual at all, just comfortable and nice.   
  
"I'm just glad you two are so good together," Quatre murmured against his shoulder. "You two will sleep with us, tonight at least, right? It's nice, really."   
  
"I'll see what Zechs says, but yes, I'll try."   
  
"Good." Stepping back, Quatre was all business again. "C'mon. Let's see what the others are up to. We've got a mission to plan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Quatre's Poobong Estate Special Oolong Black Musk tea is real, and delicious. As he or 05 could tell you, specialty teas from single estates are to your average grocery store teabags what fine vineyard wines are to Ripple.


	68. Fox in the Hen House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Once the six of them got started on the mission in question, it came together quickly. Hardly surprising, Heero supposed, given the talent and training he had sitting with him around the dining room table that morning.   
  
Wufei had already contacted Sally and couriered her all the envelops the pictures had arrived in, as well as the scrapbook page, but without the rape photos. Everyone agreed that those should be kept secret for now. Wufei told Sally only what she absolutely needed to know; that Heero had received threats and that they needed to know from whom.  
  
"Spec analysis, fingerprints, radiant imaging, and whatever else you can con out of the lab without telling them anything," Wufei said, then smiled at something she said. Heero was glad that friendship had survived everything Wufei had been through. He had few enough friends as it was.  
  
Meanwhile, Heero and Duo tracked down the Weltbeobachter's online database and hacked it, but found nothing related to the rape story, although there was plenty on all of them, including Zechs. Duo broke into one especially heavily encrypted file, then let out a yelp of surprise. Heero glanced over at his screen and caught sight of a photo of a much younger Zechs Merquise naked on a bed, giving it up the ass to an older man wearing nothing but an Alliance officer's jacket. He looked like he was enjoying it.  
  
Zechs and the others looked over, too, and Heero saw the tall blond grimace.   
  
Duo hastily deleted the download. "Sorry. Didn't know what was in there."  
  
Zechs shrugged. "Ah, yes. The great Victoria Military Academy scandal. That was a big story for Meir. He must have kept those for his own private enjoyment."  
  
"I remember hearing about that, but I never heard that you were mixed up in it," said Trowa.   
  
Zechs chuckled. "My Romefeller 'guardians' saw to it that my name and those particular photos were kept out of it." He glanced over at Wufei, who was scowling at the blank screen. "Ancient history. Don't give it a thought."  
  
Duo tapped busily away at the keyboard for a moment, then let out an evil cackle. "Oops, silly me! Looks like I accidentally corrupted some files!"  
  
"Thanks." Zechs tipped him a nod, but added, "Don't go committing any more crimes on my behalf. It's no secret I was no choirboy, then or now. Can you find anything on Meir's whereabouts?"  
  
"I have his schedule here," Heero muttered. "He's out of town on some assignment until Thursday, but there's a contact number."  
  
"Well, isn't that convenient!" Duo produced a lock pick out of thin air and twirled it in his fingers. "No one home if we just happen to drop by after hours."   
  
"The nature of his business attracts that sort of thing. He doesn't keep anything important lying around to be found," said Zechs.  
  
"That what your Romerfeller buddies found out?"   
  
"Among others. No, I think a more direct approach might work better. Barton, how's your German?"  
  
Trowa gave him a lazy, one-eyed grin. "Wenn's dir nichts ausmacht dass ich mich wie ein Landarbeiter und Soldat anhs"re, nicht gerade schlecht.* The guys who taught me weren't very educated."  
  
"Perhaps your accent is better for our purposes. In any case, my voice is a little too distinctive these days."  
  
"So what have you got in mind?" Duo asked.   
  
"You're familiar with the concept of a honey trap, aren't you? All we need is some nice sweet, carefully leaked scandal for bait."  
  
Quatre piped up at once. "'G-Boy Union Goes Sour!' They've been sniffing around for that one since Tro and I got married."  
  
"Yeah, I can see the headline now!" Duo chimed in with a Shinigami grin. "'03 Caught with 02 in 69 by 04. You do the math!' Whaddya say, Tro baby? Wanna have a photo shoot with your favorite home wrecker? Get all nekkid and kinky?"  
  
"Hey, how come he gets to have all the fun?" Quatre objected, looking less than thrilled with this adaptation of his plan.   
  
Duo laughed and pulled Quatre into his lap. "Hey, we can do a gangbang orgy scene, Kat! Whatever you like. It's only going to be a couple of out-of-focus shots. And it's not like they'll get published or anything."  
  
"One jpeg should be enough to get us in the door," Heero said. "I can attach a virus that will destroy it when we're done, just to be safe. I'll go get my camera."  
  
In the end they decided to go with Duo's original suggestion, and Wufei and Zechs discretely excused themselves. Trowa and Duo rolled around together under the sheets in the big bed while Heero snapped pictures. With a little skillful doctoring, the results were suitably low quality, but titillating.   
  
Trowa made the call and got Meir on the first try. Introducing himself as "Herr Schmidt", he spoke in a low, nasal voice, and even to Heero, who spoke no German at all, he sounded like a sleazy lowlife with cheap smut for sale. With a last impatient "Ja, ja!" he rang off and looked around at the others. "He wants to see a sample, then we'll talk. I told him I'd only deliver the rest in person."  
  
"Excellent!" Zechs said, slapping him approvingly on the shoulder. "I see you deserve your reputation for undercover work."  
  
Heero whipped up a suitable bogus email address, Trowa and Zechs wrote the message in gutter German, and they sent it off with a beer toast for luck.  
  
"Now what?" said Quatre.  
  
"Now we wait," replied Heero.   
  
+  
  
They ate a late lunch in the dining room and found themselves yawning over their gumbo.   
  
"Man, that was a short night. Think I'm gonna grab a nap," Duo said, getting up and holding a hand out to Heero. "You, too, babe. You got less sleep than anyone."  
  
By unspoken agreement, everyone else drifted off to their own rooms, leaving the evening open for now. A definite tension had settled down over the house, now that they'd set things in motion. No one really felt like going out.   
  
+  
  
Heero raised an eyebrow as Duo led him to a spare bedroom downstairs, instead of their beds upstairs. With the shutters closed against the gray winter rain, the room was cool and dim.  
  
"Feels good to get started, going after those bastards, doesn't it?" Duo asked, stretching out on the bed with him and wrapping an arm around Heero's waist.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Kinda felt like old times again, too, didn't it?"  
  
"We didn't work together as a group all that often," Heero reminded him.  
  
"No, but when we did we were unbeatable, right?"  
  
"That's true." Of course then they'd had Gundams and a license to kill. He decided not to bring that up right now. He'd caught a manic gleam in Duo's eyes a few times that troubled him, even though he knew it was on his own behalf.   
  
"So, did you and Trowa enjoy yourselves?" Heero inquired, changing the subject.  
  
Duo snuggled closer and tightened his hold on Heero's waist. "I hope you noticed that I kept my hair braided. Didn't want my photographer getting any wrong ideas."  
  
"You were pretty quick to set it up for you and 03, though, weren't you?" Heero teased. Duo was worried that he was jealous. "Why not: '04 Caught with Pants Down, on 01'?"  
  
Duo snickered, tweaking Heero's nipple through his tee shirt. "Like anyone'd believe you'd leave me for Blondie!"  
  
"Oh yeah? Why not?" Or maybe Duo was feeling jealous? Heero hadn't sensed any bad feelings when Duo had found him kissing Quatre this morning, but now he wondered if he'd only been covering. Or maybe it was just the tension of the mission. In any case, Duo clearly needed physical contact now.  
  
"'Cause he's not a mermaid, and he can't do this." Duo pulled the tie from his braid and slowly unbound his hair. Pushing Heero's shirt up, he dragged the heavy tresses across Heero's bare skin.   
  
"Hn! That's true," Heero gasped, arching under the sensual onslaught. Yes, physical contact was definitely called for. Heero had no objections, whatever the cause.  
  
Duo was pulling his fly open now, and dragging that wonderful silky teasing fall of hair south. Grinning, he wrapped a handful around Heero's hardening erection and slowly worked his fist up and down on it.  
  
God that felt good! He'd long since given up worrying about whether or not he had a hair fetish; screw that, he just knew what he liked! "Uh! Ooooh! Careful, little mermaid, I might cum in your hair." He could feel Duo's necklace brushing against his thigh through his jeans. That felt good too. Everything felt good!  
  
Duo kept up the maddeningly slow caress, adding a few licks to the tip of his cock. "Y'know, I think I read somewhere that semen is a great conditioner."  
  
Heero reached down and wound his hand in another long strand, loving the way it felt. Duo took the head of his cock in his mouth, sucking and kissing just right.   
  
"Ah, Duo!" Heero sighed. It was amazing how much fun you could have with your clothes still mostly on. "Wouldn't trade you if Quatre grew his hair down to his ankles."  
  
Taking Heero's cock a little deeper, Duo chuckled and said something that was probably "I'm glad to hear that."  
  
+  
  
It had been ages since they'd had the big bed all to themselves in the middle of the day. Quatre curled up against Trowa's side, trying to decide if it was nice or a depressing preview of days to come. Fortunately, Trowa didn't seem to be dwelling on that just now.   
  
"Did you and Wufei have a good talk?"  
  
"Mmmm hmmm."  
  
Trowa nuzzled against Quatre's neck. "Was I right?"  
  
"Of course." Quatre ran a hand over Trowa's denim covered crotch, wondering if it was this conversation or the photo shoot with Duo had left him so horny. "Wufei thinks you have a really big cock."  
  
Trowa's green eyes widened at that. "He said that?"  
  
"He tried to. You can imagine." Quatre couldn't help chuckling.   
  
"So, do _you_ think I have a big cock?" Trowa purred, thrusting up against Quatre's questing hand.  
  
"I dunno," Quatre mock-pouted. "Maybe I should ask Duo about that. You gave him a real good look this morning."  
  
Trowa flipped Quatre onto his back and knelt over him. "You mad at me, mele?"   
  
"Should I be? Did you like getting all 'nekkid and kinky' with Duo?"  
  
Trowa didn't answer. Instead, he rose and stood over him barefoot, straddling Quatre's legs. Smiling down at him, he went into a slow, sinuous dance for him. rolling those supple hips as he ever so slowly peeled off his tight tee shirt. The bands around his biceps flexed and rippled, a sight that never failed to get a stir of interest going below Quatre's beltline, at least behind closed doors. During performances or at practice he used them as guidelines, but now he could let himself enjoy that play of muscle, skin and ink. He folded his arms behind his head, enjoying the show.   
  
"We didn't get kinky at all, but we sure were naked, weren't we?" Trowa tossed the shirt across the room, ran his hands over his own shoulders and chest, then walked his fingers down his belly to his belt buckle. "Did you like watching, Kat? Did you enjoy seeing me touch a beautiful stranger?"  
  
Quatre smiled, recognizing the invitation to play, and the distinction being made, the lines drawn. Friends were off limits, even for fantasy. Even friends you'd just been naked for a good cause with. "Hmmmmm. I don't know. Did it make you hard?"  
  
"Yeah, but not as hard as you make me, sugar." Trowa teased the belt open, then the fly button, and then just enough of the zipper to reveal the beginnings of that fine, faint treasure trail below his navel. "Wanna feel how hard you make me?"  
  
"Not until you make me hard," Quatre growled. He knew where this was headed already and he was just fine with it. "How you gonna do that, without touching me, huh?"  
  
"No touching?" Trowa gave him a sultry pout, but they both knew it was an easy challenge. Turning around, he moved to stand over Quatre's face and made his movements even more suggestive. He had an athlete's body and a dancer's grace.   
  
Quatre kept his hands locked behind his head, resisting the urge to reach for those slim hips dipping and swaying so close above his face, or that hardness swelling just below the half open fly. "Why are you still dressed?"  
  
Trowa smirked at him over his shoulder, then inched the back of his jeans down, exposing the intricate tattoo across his lower back. "This what you want to see, lover?" Yes, that was a very clear signal.   
  
Quatre let out a lustful growl and reached to yank those jeans down further. "Oh yeah! Up close and personal while I fuck your gorgeous ass!"  
  
He soon got his wish.  
  
+  
  
Wufei found himself tired but not sleepy after lunch. The mixed events and aborted lovemaking of last night, coupled with the excitement of the mission planning, not to mention his strange conversation with 04, had left him restless and off balance. Not even the heavy sparring they'd done had taken the edge off. Zechs must have been feeling something of the same thing, because as soon as the others had retired, he took Wufei's hand and led him back to the practice room.  
  
"Shouldn't we change?" he asked, but Zechs just pulled him along down the corridor.   
  
The minute the door was closed behind them he pushed Wufei against the nearest wall and devoured his mouth with a demanding kiss.  
  
"What--what are you doing?" Wufei gasped when Zechs let him up for air. It was a silly, reflex question. The feeling of those long fingers so skillfully slipping the clothes from his body told him most of what he needed to know.  
  
"We started something we weren't able to finish last night, mei," Zechs rumbled, and kissed him again, pressing his body against Wufei's. "And I understand from Barton that you have us sleeping with them tonight?" He mouthed his way down the side of Wufei's neck, wringing a needy moan out of him. "I'm afraid you'll have to help me work off a little energy before I can do that-- safely."  
  
Before Wufei could quite catch up with that thought, or quite connect it with the hungry glances he'd seen Zechs give Quatre and Trowa at their yoga, Zechs growled, "Right here, right now!" and dropped to his knees to devour Wufei's growing erection with ruthless intensity.  
  
The onslaught blotted out any concern or jealousy Wufei might have mustered. Excruciating as his little sex talk with Quatre had been at the time, it had left him with a growing need, too. Zechs was forceful, just bordering on rough, and Wufei felt his whole body catch fire. Pressed to the wall, legs shaking, he covered his face with his hands--why or how this helped he couldn't explain, it just did-- and gave himself up to the rapidly cresting pleasure sweeping through him.   
  
Still sucking his cock, Zechs grabbed Wufei behind his left knee, hoisting it over his shoulder, and stood up, pushing him right up the wall to dangle precariously as Zechs growled and deep throated him.  
  
Wufei moaned behind his hands, and then more loudly as Zechs reached up to fondle his ass. He braced willingly for a painful intrusion but instead Zechs squeezed and kneaded his cheeks together, turning the lingering soreness there into a trigger for deeper pleasure. Wufei cried out loudly, unable to help himself. For the first time since they'd become lovers, he felt like he was with that dangerous, feral man he'd seen in Le Fleur. Zechs wasn't rough with him, not really, but there was a thinly veiled hint of violence in the bruising way he gripped Wufei's thighs, the way he was sucking so hard, the guttural noises he was making. Helpless, pinned to the wall, head inches from the ceiling, Wufei came hard and fast, biting the heel of one hand in a vain effort to stifle his cries. He was still coming hard when Zechs lowered him to the mat and continued his erotic attack with rough kisses and nips all over Wufei's body.  
  
Sizzling in the afterglow, Wufei was moaning steadily now, every nerve singing with pleasure and amazement. As his senses cleared, he sat up and fumbled clumsily with the buttons on Zechs's shirt. Zechs helped by pulling it off over his head and shucking out of his jeans and shoes. Kneeling, legs wide, he guided Wufei's mouth to his cock. Whimpering with pleasure, Wufei swallowed him whole and had the satisfaction of hearing his lover's desperate groans begin.   
  
"Oh, yeah. Suck me, mei. Take it, little Chang, every inch!" He clutched at Wufei's' head, holding him in place as he fucked his mouth.   
  
Wufei shifted his balance and regained control, sucking and mouthing just as wildly. Finding Zechs's balls with one hand, he wrapped his fingers round them and tugged. Zechs let out a harsh yell of pleasure and thrust harder, pushing Wufei back a few inches, abrading his knees on the mat. Wufei growled and pushed back, taking Zechs deeper down his throat and was rewarding with fingers bruising convulsively on his shoulders and a choking, hot flood of cum down his throat. Wufei gagged and swallowed and sucked him dry, not stopping until Zechs laughed and pushed him off.  
  
They collapsed in each other's arms, sweating and spent, and just lay there for a while. It occurred to Wufei that the noise they'd been making might have sounded alarming from outside, and that perhaps someone might come to see if they were all right, but he just couldn't summon the energy to get up and check if the door was locked.  
  
As his wits slowly returned, however, he thought of what Zechs had said. "All this, so you can sleep with my friends tonight? Safely?"  
  
Zechs captured his face between his hands and stroked his thumbs across Wufei's lips. His smile was lazy, but Wufei caught a mix of amusement and concern in those eyes. "You can't send a man with a sweet tooth into a candy shop and blame him if his mouth waters, mei. It doesn't mean I'm going to eat anything. Only you." He kissed his way down Wufei's neck again.   
  
"Hn. So you do find them attractive?"  
  
"Certainly. Don't you?"  
  
"I--I've never thought of them in that way."  
  
"Really? Well, you have more control than I do." He rolled up on top of Wufei, pinning him again, and smiled down at him. "I'm a lustful, lascivious wolf, mei. You know that as well as I do. But wolves can be faithful mates when they choose. And I've chosen you. I still enjoy looking at other men. I'm not about to lie to you about that, or apologize for it. But it's you I love, and you alone that I touch." He pulled back a little, frowning. "Wufei, you've captured my heart completely, not just my lust or my interest. I love you. I'd never hurt or betray you. You aren't worried, are you?"  
  
Wufei gazed up at him, considering the question. It was all so easy, when they were sequestered away in Sanque. Zechs was being honest with him now, and asking for his trust in return. "All this, just now, was it because you found them attractive?"  
  
"No, Wufei. I enjoy their company, and they are very nice to look at. That makes me horny, true, but my only focus is you. Do you understand?"  
  
"I don't know," Wufei replied, repaying honesty with honesty. "But I do trust you, and I guess I don't mind, if you're only looking."  
  
Zechs kissed him again. "It means a lot to them, to have you join them tonight. I can stay in our room, if you'd rather."  
  
"No," Wufei replied without any hesitation. "No, I want you there, too. You belong with me, no matter what."  
  
Zechs sat up and pulled Wufei up into his arms. "Thank you, Wufei, my one true love."  
  
+  
  
Without much being said, they all came back together in the parlor with the television and big furniture that evening and watched movies. Heero and the other others settled together on a large sectional sofa in a complicated tangle of arms and legs and bowls of popcorn. To Wufei, curled up against Zechs's side on a loveseat next to them, it appeared that no one cared who was touching whom. At one point he caught Trowa kissing Heero on the lips. Duo had Quatre's bare feet in his lap, massaging them absently as he concentrated on the movie.   
  
Zechs was watching them, too, Wufei knew, and he tried to see them through his lover's eyes. They were attractive, all four of them, and each in his own way. Could he imagine them as sexual partners? He pondered this carefully, and realized that Duo and Quatre simply weren't his type, as much as he liked them. But Heero and Trowa were another matter. Both of them had something of Zechs's power and hard virility. They were, he concluded, tops, and Trowa was the more intriguing of the two, even though he still admired Heero more. Trowa looked over and caught him staring just then and he hastily grinned and looked away. Zechs might be right about simple male attraction, but he wasn't ready to start thinking of his closest friends in that light.   
  
He held onto that thought when the uncomfortable moment of bedtime finally arrived. When Trowa turned off the set with the remote and unwound himself from the others to stretch, Wufei realized he couldn't have told anyone what the movie had been about, or who was in it.   
  
Heero stood and pulled a yawning Duo to his feet. Trowa did the same and wrapped an arm around his little husband's waist. Looking over at Wufei and Zechs, he smiled and murmured, "Shall we?"  
  
Wufei glanced up at Zechs, who just smiled and shrugged, leaving the final decision to him.   
  
"You all _do_ wear pajamas or something, don't you?" he asked, and then blushed as the others burst out laughing.  
  
+  
  
Zechs and Wufei changed in their room, and Zechs could tell that Wufei was nervous but determined.   
  
"I've never done this before," he muttered, staring into a dresser drawer.   
  
Zechs reached in and handed him a tee-shirt and a pair of clean boxers. "I think you'll be comfortable in these, love." He pulled on a pair of loose sweats and an old tank top.  
  
The fact was, Zechs had never been in exactly this situation before, either. Any time he shared a bed with any number of other men, sex was expected, the goal of the exercise. But he was also an expert at reading situations. Without saying anything to Wufei, who was already nervous enough, he took his time in the bathroom, giving the others time to arrange themselves in bed as they liked, without any added awkwardness. Giving Wufei a last, encouraging kiss, he led him down the balcony to their room.  
  
Barton hadn't been joking when he said it was a bed purchased with company in mind. It was huge, a custom made affair. Even with the other four already in it, there was still plenty of space for two more. And the others did wear pajamas, or at least reasonable approximations thereof.   
  
He smiled to himself, wishing he could have heard the discussion that resulted in this arrangement of bodies. Was it only by chance that Maxwell was the furthest away, on the far side of the bed? The occassional flashes of challenge and mistrust he still read in those lovely violet blue eyes told him it wasn't, though he suspected it hadn't been entirely Duo's decision to be kept so far from Zechs. Heero was sitting up next to him, of course, then Trowa, leaving Quatre as the one directly besides their guests. Was that relief on Wufei's face? He smiled, and hung back a little, making it clear to all that he intended to take the outside spot.  
  
Wufei carefully left space between himself and the blond boy. That still left plenty of room for Zechs, but he made a point of spooning in against him and wrapping an arm around his lover's waist. 'He's mine, boys.' He could see they got the message. Not that there's probably been any doubt in anyone's mind, of course, but he didn't' see any reason to play coy. Besides, Wufei needed it. He was tense and embarassed at first, but once Duo put the lights out, leaving only a single candle burning on the dresser he gradually relaxed and settled down.  
  
They talked quietly of the mission, and arrangements for the show, should Quatre and Trowa be needed on short notice. Quatre made Zechs and Wufei promise that they would come back here after the mission, so that they could properly enjoy New Orleans. Wufei's new ring was noticed and admired. Duo cracked a few joking warnings about "sleep humping". Wufei was rather quiet, but Zechs didn't pick up on any problems. Poor boy, he hadn't so much had his horizons broadened these past few months as totally blown apart. Propped up on one elbow behind him, talking with Winner about clubs and restaurants he wanted to show them, Zechs gently caressed the back of Wufei's neck and shoulders, letting him feel their connection, letting him know he knew of his nervousness. The gratifying reply came in the form of Wufei nestling his backside more firmly against Zechs's lap. Head cradled on one arm, he was the first to doze off.  
  
Quatre noticed and gave Zechs a warm grin. Zechs stroked the hair back from Wufei's cheek and noted the closed eyes, softly parted lips, and even breathing. He kissed him gently, then smiled up at the others, who were all taking an obvious interest. "Good night, boys. Sleep well."  
  
It was a pleasure, watching two other beautiful couples settling down together like that, while holding his own sleeping lover in his arms. Yes, he could get used to this, he thought, closing his eyes. Still, old habits died hard; the tumble of limbs, the pleasant mingling of body heat and all those different, delicious male aromas? Zechs couldn't be blamed if his body took notice, could he? In his world, that all just screamed "orgy time!" It struck him now that his orgy days were far behind him, and that he did, in fact, rather miss that sort of thing. But not so much that he wasn't very glad he'd wisely enjoyed the daylights out of Wufei that afternoon, so he could allow sleeping near all these lovelies to be enough.   
  
He only hoped that Wufei was a fast healer.


	69. Can't a Guy Sleep In?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_//Mmmmmm warm//  
  
//Comfy//  
_  
Duo fought off waking up. He was good at that and had gotten lots of practice since he'd been sleeping with Heero. Being safe and happy and in love did more for him than any pill from Doc B ever had.   
  
_//So nice//  
  
//Warm body under his arm, under his cheek//  
  
//not heero//  
_  
He was used to that, too, sleeping with Tro and Kat. Everyone ended up all over each other in the morning and once in a while hands ended up where they shouldn't, but they were all good sports about it. And family. And almost lovers, but not quite . . .  
  
_//So comfy . . .//  
  
...  
  
...  
  
//still warm and comfy//  
_  
Someone was up. Not quite awake yet, Duo heard them whispering.   
  
_//Shut up or take it outside. 'M trying to sleep here//_  
  
Too late. Most of his body was still asleep, draped over whoever he was cuddled up to, but something was pressing uncomfortably into the side of his neck, something hard. The warm not-heero he was cuddled up against was moving a little, too, and someting was tickling his nose. He hated it when his hair got loose and in his face. He'd braided it last night, right? Or rather Heero had, in the bathroom, after some brushing . . . That didn't change the fact that it was still tickling in the most annoying way, making him wake up enough to at least rub it away.  
  
The hair didn't feel right. It was too short and coming from the wrong direction, he noted with sleepy annoyance. Tro? Those bangs were a hazard at close range . . .  
  
The not-heero didn't smell right. He could find all the others in the dark with one nostril tied behind his back. This was . . .  
  
"We really should wake him."   
  
Wu?  
  
"Aw, he looks so cute like that."   
  
Quatre?  
  
"I want to see this."  
  
Tro?  
  
"Wait for it."  
  
Heero?  
  
Fuck, were they having a morning mission meeting in here or something, god damn it?  
  
"Mphh!" Duo rubbed at his nose again, then blearily opened one eye. To find himself looking across a tank tee covered expanse of very nice, very chiseled, very not-Heero or even Tro type chest and the shirt had pulled sideways and who the hell had nipples that color?!  
  
Apparently Zechs Merquise did.   
  
In the remaining nanoseconds before he panicked and fell out of bed, he registered that the hard thing digging into his neck was the locking ring on Zechs's left arm, which was currently cradling his head, and that he was wrapped, arms and legs, around the man like he was the best teddy bear in the world. And of course, the world being a brutally unfair place and all, he had a raging hard on shoved up against the guy's hip.  
  
Yep, he still had a Gundam pilot's reflexs and that all took only a couple of nanoseconds to figure out, then he was flailing and squawking and landing on his ass on the hard floor at Heero's feet. At least that took care of the erection problem. And all this time he was wondering how that sneaky bastard had snuck over to his side of the bed and snuck in beside him like this without him knowing it, the big sneak! And without anyone else stopping him, either!  
  
The others didn't look outraged at all! Heero smirked down at him, arms folded across his chest. Trowa was doubled over in silent laughter beside him. Zechs leaned over the edge of the bed, also amused, as were Quatre and Wufei, looking over Zech's shoulder.  
  
"Wha' the *FUCK*?!" Duo demanded indignantly. Well, he'd meant to demand, but it came out more of a screech. The others were laughing themselves sick now, even Wu. This pretty much defined "rude awakening" in Duo Maxwell's book.  
  
Zechs shook his head. "If he were mine, Yuy, I'd wash that mouth out with soap."  
  
"I've considered it, but he'd kill me."  
  
That just made him madder. "Damn fucking straight!" He scrambled up to his feet, about to demand, without screeching, just what the hell Zechs thought he was up to when Duo realized which side of the bed he was standing on.  
  
"You got up to use the bathroom around three," Zechs told him. "You weren't really awake, though. I did try to tell you, when you came back and got in beside me, but you weren't taking no for an answer. Actually, you were quite insistent."  
  
"You more or less fought your way under the covers," Wufei said with a wry grin. "I woke up when you poked me in the eye."  
  
"Happens all the time," Quatre added helpfully.  
  
It did, actually, but Duo wasn't about to admit it. He glanced at the clock. It was almost nine. Six hours. He'd slept with Zechs Merquise for six hours and everyone thought it was the most hilarious fucking thing they'd ever seen. It was very tempting to flip them all off and stomp off to the shower, but Zechs was holding out his hand.  
  
"It's all right, Maxwell. You were a perfect gentleman and so was I. Can't we at least try to be friends?"   
  
He looked concerned and sincere as hell. That, together with the almost pleading look in Wufei's eyes, made Duo loosen up a little. Shit, the guy had been pretty helpful yesterday, and if Wufei trusted him? Well, maybe it was time for a truce.   
  
He shook hands, doing his best to ignore how strong and warm Zechs's hand was in his. "Hope I didn't drool on you too much. Next time make Heero drag me back where I belong, OK?"  
  
"Deal."  
  
And yeah, the guy had a killer smile, and those eyes had always made him feel a little funny inside, when they were looking at him. It was probably safer to hang onto his distrust, but now it was too late. He just couldn't muster up much hate for a guy he'd cuddled with, not when everyone else seemed so damned pleased about it. He grabbed Heero and headed downstairs. "Coffee."  
  
Halfway down the stairs, he looked back at Heero. "So I swear too much?"  
  
Heero shrugged. "Have you heard me complaining?"  
  
"I didn't exactly got to the best finishing schools, ya know, like certain other people!"  
  
"Have you heard me complaining?" Heero asked again, then caught him at the base of the stairs and kissed him with lots of tongue, morning breath and all. "We're going on a mission, Duo. There's no one else I'd rather have at my back or in my bed. You know that, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess," Duo grumbled, trying to pull away.  
  
Heero held him tight and looked him in the eye. "Duo? You're my wingman, right?"  
  
"You know I am."   
  
Heero smiled at him, those dark blue eyes all dark and deep and full of love. "And my mermaid?"   
  
Duo went all gooey inside. "Yeah." He kissed him back. "Always and forever, 01."  
  
"Good. Now, coffee."  
  
Arms around each other, they headed for the kitchen and Duo was ready to let the whole wake up thing go when Heero just had to laugh and ask, "So, whose side of the bed are you sleeping on tonight?" and Duo had to punch him in the arm and chase him into the house. It would have taken a whole bar of soap to handle what he had to say when he caught him.


	70. Berlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Zechs hadn't said much, during the planning sessions or the flight to Germany in the slick Zoroaster, but Heero sensed that the man had his own history with Meir. The photos Duo had found while hacking the tabloid's files were some proof of that.   
  
Zechs and Duo piloted, leaving Heero with time to ponder his own feelings. If Meir was behind the hateful mail, what was he going to do about it? Shoot him? Hand him over to the authorities and face the inevitable media feeding frenzy? Neither prospect had much appeal. It bothered him that he could not foresee his own reaction. He'd gotten better at understanding his own feelings and emotions these past months, but this was beyond him. When he let himself think of what those pictures showed, or the way he'd reacted, he just seemed to go numb now.   
  
He kept an eye on Duo though the flight, and the long taxi ride to an elegant apartment Zechs had bought in the Schoneberg before the war. It was large, taking up the entire top floor of a pre-Colony brick building in the heart of the gay district. The interior was ultra modern, but comfortable, with soft leather furniture, warm woods floors, and colorful artwork. They had an awkward moment as they dropped off their bags; had sleeping together in New Orleans been a one time thing or set a pattern? Zechs solved it smoothly by showing them to an elegantly appointed guest room just off the high ceilinged living room. Both this room and the master suite down the hall had double beds, not large enough for group sleeping.   
  
They'd arrived in Berlin at noon and "Herr Schmidt" had an appointment at five to meet with Meir at a cafe in Hardenbergplatz near the zoo.  
  
Wufei and Duo dressed as students, in jeans and leather jackets. Heero had borrowed Duo's old Alliance parka and paint streaked jeans and brought along a sketchbook. Zechs put on a stylish black suit for the occasion, with his distinctive hair swept up out of sight under an expensive fedora and looked like a high priced lawyer. Everyone was wired for communication, and everyone except Zechs was armed.   
  
They arrived early and spread out to watch for their prey. Duo and Wufei sat at an outside table, well hidden under hats and dark glasses. Heero took up a position on the curb across, as if sketching, and Zechs lounged at a trendy outdoor bistro, pretending to watch pretty young girls walking by.   
  
Playing his role, Heero sketched Duo and Wufei as they played a pair of lovers, holding hands across the table.   
  
"We are lucky, aren't we? They're as deadly as they are beautiful." Even through the tiny ear bud, he could hear the amusement in Zechs's voice and wondered how the man had guessed what he was doing.   
  
Heero grunted softly, but suddenly felt a little cold inside, the way he did when he caught that manic gleam in Duo's eyes now and then.   
  
"He's here," Duo murmured at last, not glancing in Heero's direction.   
  
"And he's alone," Wufei added.  
  
They all stayed put as Meir entered the cafe, and let him wait out the last few minutes before the appointed meeting.   
  
"He's either very brave or very foolish, given his line of work," Zechs muttered as he and Heero crossed the busy street to join the others.   
  
Duo and Wufei got up, but hung back near the door as Heero and Zechs crossed to the booth at the back of the dimly lit little establishment, where Meir sat nursing a beer as he read a magazine.   
  
Zechs slid in beside him, trapping him in the booth, and Heero sat across from him.  
  
"Herr Schmidt sends his regards," Zechs rasped as Meir started and looked up. "Did you like our pictures?"  
  
"Peacecraft?" Meir hissed in surprise. "What the hell have you to do with this?"  
  
"I'm just here with my friends."   
  
Heero took off his tinted glasses and tipped the brim of his baseball cap back.  
  
"Yuy!"  
  
"Keep your voice down," Heero growled, glancing around. The place was noisy. No one seemed to be watching them except for Duo and Wufei. Meir appeared not to notice them yet.  
  
Meir sighed and threw down the picture of Duo and Trowa. "So I assume this was simply for my benefit, or had your pretty boyfriend really betrayed you?"  
  
"You wish," Duo growled, slipping in next to Heero. Wufei pulled up a chair and straddled it.   
  
Meir was completely hemmed in now and he knew it. "So, all this just to bring me here? What do you want?"  
  
Heero pulled out a photo of his own and tossed it across to cover the other. It was one of the milder ones his tormenters had sent, just a shot of him being held down on his knees in front of a half naked man, someone's hand fisted in his hair.  
  
Meir glanced at it and shrugged but Heero knew how to read faces.   
  
Duo was good at reading people, better than any of them. "You know what this is, Meir. I suggest you start talking. Now." He kept his voice low and a smile on his face; to anyone watching, not able to hear the clear edge of menace in that soft voice, nothing would have seemed amiss.  
  
"Sure. Someone tried to sell me those. I figured they were fakes and turned them down."  
  
"Oh yeah? But it must have made a slime-sucking shit monger like you a little curious, huh?" Duo growled clearly unconvinced. "Is this where that prostitute theory of yours came from? Does it look to you like he was having a very fucking good time?"  
  
He was almost on his feet now, leaning across the table to get in Meir's face. One hand rested in a tight, white-knuckled fist on the table. His gun hand was out of sight behind him.  
  
Perfectly calm to all outward appearances, Wufei rose smoothly to shield them from prying eyes. Heero found Duo's wrist and gripped it, gently pulling him back into his seat. Still scowling darkly, Duo settled down, but his hand stayed under the table. Wufei brushed an imaginary crease from his designer jeans and sat down again.  
  
"I need to know where you got your information, Meir," Heero said.  
  
Meir raised an eyebrow. "So they were genuine? I suppose I should have guessed, given *her* reaction." He shot Zechs an annoyed look. "I already settled this. Tell her nothing has changed!"  
  
"You can't be referring to my sister?"   
  
Meir leered over at Heero. "She didn't say anything to you, your little girlfriend? She leaned on me very hard, that day in Madrid. I came back to my hotel room after the press conference to find some of her people waiting for me, and then she called in person. She was most--persuasive, shall we say, on your behalf, Herr Yuy. Of course, I'd already been convinced that they were fakes, especially given your reaction to my questions. Very cool, you were. My compliments. Much calmer about it that she was. But then again, that was before she caught the two of you in bed, wasn't it? I think perhaps things have cooled a bit since then, ja?"  
  
"Are you saying Relena Peacecraft had something to do with this?" Duo hissed.  
  
"She didn't say anything about pictures. She simply suggested that if I wished to continue to do business in this country, I would do well not to spread rumors about certain people. I told her it wasn't my sort of story, anyway. And it's not. I do have standards, you know. This?" He tapped the photo of Duo and Trowa. "This would sell." He leered brazenly over at Duo. "You've made much money for me, Herr Maxwell. People "cannot get enough of you", as you would say. I've missed your antics since Herr Yuy came to claim you."  
  
"You sick fuck! I'll give you--"  
  
Heero caught Duo's arm and hauled him down again. "He's baiting you."  
  
"But as I said," Meir went on, seeming to enjoy the confrontation, "seeing their little hero of the Libra being gang raped? No, my readers would not like that so much. But there are many others who would. I'm surprised no other paper picked up on this. Maybe Fraulein Peacecraft has been busier than I knew? Hmm. If these are real, that might present some legal difficulties, ja?"  
  
"I advise you not to pursue that train of thought," Zechs warned quietly. "There is no proof that Relena knew of these photos, but you've already admitted that you did. If they are real, then under ESUN law, you could be charged with obstruction at the very least."  
  
Meir shrugged. "As I said, I thought they were fakes. You cannot prove otherwise. I would simply say that I wished to spare Herr Yuy embarrassment by bringing them to light."  
  
"Who brought them to you?" Heero asked, torn between the desire to keep Duo from making a scene, or joining him in beating the information out of the smug German. "I suggest you tell us now, as we have many ways of getting the information, with or without your cooperation."  
  
"Threats?" Meir chuckled. "I have been threatened by more dangerous people than you. Do you think I have left such information lying around to be found, or that no one knows where I am right now? Or that I have no way of proving whom I met here? You do not survive long in my line of work, being so stupid, I assure you."  
  
"Or not being able to carry a bluff," Duo muttered, loathing clear in his eyes.  
  
"No, threats are very crude," Zechs agreed. "What do you propose, Herr Meir?"  
  
The man smirked. "I'm a simple fellow, with simple needs. Perhaps an exchange? A story I can use, in exchange for one I cannot? An exclusive of some sort--"  
  
"The Victoria scandal?" Zechs suggested with a wry smirk.   
  
"No!" Heero said at once. This was his fight; he didn't need anyone else dragged through the mud on his account.  
  
Meir waved a dismissive hand. "Old news. Surely you have something more current?" He stole a glance at Wufei and Heero could have sworn the man licked his lips.   
  
"How would a headline of us charging you with extortion play to your readers?" Wufei growled. He'd been very quiet, but now his dark eyes were blazing with barely suppressed outrage. It was Zechs's turn to calm his own lover, but he didn't look any more pleased at the prospect.  
  
"I'll give you an interview," Heero said quietly, fists clenched under the table. "If the information you give me leads me to these men, then I will give you an exclusive interview, but only about myself, and not about this, or anything about my friends they do not wish me to speak of. Take it or leave it, Meir."  
  
Meir picked up the picture of Duo and Trowa. "I have heard rumors . . ."   
  
"Nothing, until your info checks out." And then, he amended silently, only what the others agreed to beforehand.  
  
Meir smirked again. "Very well." He scrawled something on a cardboard beer coaster and slid it across to him. "This is all I have, you have my word. I think you are a man of your word, too, Herr Yuy, so I will consider ours a verbal contract. For free, I will tell you something else. These men? You should be very careful with them. They're not right in the head."  
  
"No shit!" Duo muttered.  
  
Heero glanced down at the coaster before pocketing it: it was a name, and a post office box address. In Kisarazu.  
  
+  
  
"Is it just me, or was that a little too easy?" Duo growled in the cab on the way back to the apartment.  
  
"Hn." The same thought was nagging at Heero. These shadowy figures were dangerous men, according to Meir, and their latest messages to Heero were almost like taunts, asking him to come after them. He shuddered and leaned back against the seat, feeling a little ill. If only he could remember something more from that bad time! So far, though, all he had were fleeting glimpses, nothing more than he'd already recalled.   
  
As soon as they were safely behind closed doors again, Wufei asked the one question Heero had been avoiding. "What about Relena?"  
  
"I'll speak with her tonight," said Zechs.  
  
Heero gave him a grateful look, glad to be spared that conversation. That confrontation at the Madrid embassy came back to him now: Relena's tears, and the angry words he had misunderstood, discounted and tried to forget. //After all I've done for you!// Apparently she had tried to protect him yet again, just as he had once sworn to protect her. He tried to say as much now, but Duo rounded on him with surprising anger.  
  
"She shut him up, sure, but why, huh? Think she was really doing it for you? No way! She just wanted to make it go away to save herself the embarrassment. She still wanted you, Heero, and having her war hero fiance splashed all over the tabloids as a rape victim just didn't send the right message."  
  
"Duo, please!"  
  
"No, he's right." Everyone turned to stare at Wufei, who was seething again. "The whole time you were missing, Heero, she could have helped us find you. But she didn't. Why? I've asked myself that again and again ever since I found out the details. She let you live like that, sick as you were. She left you out there on the streets, where those men found you and-and-" He was shaking now, hands clenched at his sides. "If we'd found you first, they couldn't have done that to you! I'm sorry, Zechs. I know she's your family, but it's true!"  
  
"No, you're right," Zechs growled, drawing him into a hug and stroking his back under the leather jacket. "This isn't the first time I've had cause to question my little sister's motives." He looked sadly at Heero. "I'm so sorry about everything that happened to you. It could have been stopped."  
  
"It wasn't your fault, Zechs," Heero sighed. "None of this had anything to do with you. Duo understands that, too, don't you, Duo?"  
  
"Yeah, I know. Hell, you were unconscious in the regenerator unit all that time. And, well--" He gave Zechs a small, grudging nod. "You were good today. Real good."  
  
Acting purely on instinct, Heero opened his arms to Duo, then drew him over to Zechs and Wufei and wrapped his free arm around them. They stood that way for a long time, holding each other. If the beds had been larger, he'd have been tempted to suggest they share.


	71. S.K.U.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Thanks to the time difference, Heero caught Trowa and Quatre before they left for their performance that night. He considered making the call from the bedroom, but decided that wouldn't be fair to the others. Instead, he sat on the leather sofa in the living room beside Duo. Zechs and Wufei occupied a smaller sofa beside them.   
  
Heero set his phone to speaker. "Hi Quatre. Mission accomplished. We're all here."  
  
"Oh, Heero!" Quatre's voice came across a little tinny, but clearly worried. "I was just about to call you. I just got off the phone with Meir."  
  
Heero frowned. "What did he want?"  
  
"Your cell number. I didn't give it to him, but I said I'd pass along the message. He claims he has some more information for you."   
  
"I'll call him."   
  
"How did it go?" Trowa demanded, listening in one of the extensions.  
  
"As planned. He claims not to be involved, but the people who have been harassing me contacted him. He gave us a name, and a post office box in Japan."   
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"Someone named Hideki Koudo. Does it mean anything to either of you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Koudo?" Trowa muttered. "No, but it's a common name. It's probability an alias, anyway. I'll run a check, though."  
  
"Trowa?" Heero took a deep breath. "Could-could you also check the photos again, see if you think the men in them look Asian? And look for distinguishing marks, anything we could use."  
  
"Already done. One of them definitely could be, but he'd built, very muscular. One of the others has a tattoo on the back of his left hand. There wasn't enough of it showing to make a positive ID, but I faxed that section to Sally to see if she could make a match. My guess it is it's going to be military."  
  
"There are three different men in the photos for sure," Quatre broke in, and Heero realized he should have known better than to try and shield 04. "One is Caucasian and blond, going by what I saw of his body hair, and he has a dragon on his left hip, but hopefully that won't be much use to you. It's low."  
  
"Thanks, both of you. I'm sorry you have to deal with this."  
  
"Don't be silly, Heero. We're glad to help."   
  
"You're not going after them without us," Trowa warned. "We'll fly over right after the show tomorrow night. We can be there early Sunday afternoon, your time."  
  
Heero looked around at the others. Everyone nodded. "All right. Let us know your ETA and we'll meet you at the shuttle port."  
  
"Use a rental," Zechs said. "We can take my shuttle from here."  
  
"How are you doing?" Quatre asked.  
  
"Fine." Heero closed his eyes and concentrated on sending Quatre a sense of what he hoped was reassurance. He heard a small squeak at the other end and the sound of the phone being dropped.   
  
"Quatre?" Now Trowa was concerned. They could hear him hurrying to another room, mobile phone in hand. "Damn it, Heero, would you quit that? I don't even do that!"  
  
"Sorry," mumbled Heero.  
  
"You wait for us, Heero!" Quatre was back on, sounding a little shaky.  
  
"Copy that, 04. I'm going to call Meir now. I'll let you know right away if there's anything new. Don't wait up."  
  
"Copy that. Be careful."  
  
Heero ended the call, and then dialed Meir's cell phone.   
  
The reporter picked up on the second ring. "Yuy, you got my message."  
  
"Obviously. What do you want?"  
  
"That's not so friendly, after I've been helpful to you!" Meir sounded amused. "This may be nothing, but perhaps it is. You know about the Gundam scum films, ja?"  
  
"Gundam scum films?" The others shook their heads. "No. What are they? Some sort of vid?"  
  
There was a pause. "Yes. It is best you see for yourselves. I will send them to you by courier."  
  
"No. We'll pick it up. Leave it at your office."  
  
"Very well. And Yuy? I'm not suggesting you watch them. Just know that they exist. They are not nice vids, not sympathetic. It is important that you understand that you are not heroes in the minds of all people."  
  
Heero thought of the stacks of mail that arrived from strangers. Yes, they all knew they had people out there who blamed them, hated them.   
  
+  
  
Zechs knew the city, and went with Wufei to make the pick up. They were back within the hour, just as Duo was beginning to plan a foray out for dinner, but neither looked like they had any appetite. Zechs was carrying a padded manila envelope, which he was clearly hesitant to give to Heero.   
  
Wufei looked ill. "It--it is porn. Awful stuff. With some actors who--" He shook his head and closed his eyes. "They are supposed to look like us."  
  
Heero had expected as much, but Wufei's reaction, together with the fact that the normally unflappable Zechs looked ready to shoot someone made him brace for the worst. Glowering, Zechs shook a handful of plastic vid sleeves from the envelope and handed them to him.   
  
It was bad. On the cover of the first one two young actors were being sodomized by burly Alliance types. It was clear who the two victims were supposed to be. One was a blue-eyed Asian in a green tank top; the other was a skinny, girlish kid with a long brown braid and a torn black priest's shirt hanging off his shoulders. The advertising text was printed in bad English and the title was "Gundam S.K.U.M* III: Hot P.O.Ws". An asterisked notation in parentheses below the cheap artwork read, "Slut Killers Under Men." Shocked, Heero numbly looked at the other four. It was more of the same, a whole series, apparently, featuring the five of them being sexually abused and degraded. The boys playing Trowa and Quatre bore only a passing resemblance, but the one portraying Wufei was almost his twin. More disturbing still, on several of the boxes, the boys looked like their older selves, not how they had in the war.   
  
Wufei dropped into an armchair and hid his face in his hands. Duo fled. An instant later Heero heard the sound of retching from the bathroom down the hall. He shoved the vids back at Zechs and ran to find him. Most of the pictures were rapes, and that was too close to home for Duo. He wondered why it hadn't bothered him more, but decided that seeing real photos of his own real rape made anything else more bearable.  
  
Duo was hanging over the toilet in the bathroom, still heaving. Heero knelt and tried to hold him but Duo pushed him away, then retched again, clinging to the edge of the bowl and shivering violently. Heero rescued his braid and held it out of the way. Duo didn't object to that.  
  
When he was finally done he flushed and slumped back against the wall, hugging his knees miserably. "It's a mean old world out there, Heero. I should know, how I grew up. But I forget sometimes, y'know? Living with you and the guys, it's so damn good that I can pretend that maybe things really are different."  
  
"They are, Duo. We helped change things."  
  
But Duo shook his head, twisting his braid in shaking hands. "Maybe in some ways, but underneath? Deep down? There still plenty of just plain mean people in the world, people who'd just as soon step on you as go around. That doesn't change, no matter who's in charge. And there are always perverts and creeps. Always had been, always will be.   
  
"Those vids? I heard there was shit like that out there, but I never saw any of it. And I figured maybe--" A tear rolled down his cheek. "The stuff I heard about was just sex, y'know? I thought it might even be funny to check it out sometime. But that stuff Meir sent?" He caught a hitching breath and wiped at his mouth. "That's rape, Heero. That's hate. And there are guys out there getting off on it! On thinking about doing that shit to us, because of who we are and what we did. It's like--it's like punishment, for all the people we hurt."  
  
The growing look of despair in Duo's eyes concerned Heero more than his lover's words. He knew he'd been keeping up with his meds; Heero checked those every day. But the strain of the past few days and nasty things they'd just seen were pulling Duo down toward that dark place Trowa and Dr. Batoosingh had told Heero about. Drugs didn't keep it from coming back at him. Therapy didn't. Months of loving from Heero couldn't fend it off after all, it seemed.   
  
It was tempting to send Duo back to New Orleans, to try to shield him, protect him from this ugliness. That was tantamount to declaring him a risk to the mission. Weak. Heero thought about how Wufei and Zechs had sparred so hard, the morning after their disaster in the bedroom. He thought about how Duo sometimes goaded him into disciplining him.  
  
Steeling himself, Heero took Duo by both shoulders and gave him a hard shake.   
  
"Snap out of it, 02!" he growled. Startled violet eyes met his. "Punishment? Are you telling me you think we deserve that kind of thing? That's bullshit and you know it. It was a war we didn't start, and we never hurt anyone just for fun. So I don't want to hear that kind of whining out of you again! We have a mission."  
  
It was a risk, but a calculated one. A momentary flash of shame obliterated the fear, and then that rapidly crystallized into resolve. Duo nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry, 01."  
  
Heero stood up and hauled Duo to his feet. "I need Shinigami for this one, Duo. Are you up to it?"  
  
Duo wiped his mouth again and squared his shoulders. "Yeah. Bring it on."  
  
+  
  
No one felt like eating.   
  
Zechs picked up the package of vids. "I'm going to go watch these, see if anyone has the marks Trowa and Quatre described. You three stay out here."  
  
Wufei looked miserable at the prospect, but made no objection. Heero enlisted him and Duo in trying to pin down the name Meir had given them. In the end they got no further than locating the post office box address on the edge of the ruined rundown industrial district. Heero vaguely recognized the area. He'd destroyed a factory near there, on that made gyroscopic stabilizers for mobile suits.   
  
Zechs emerged a few hours later looking grim and dispirited. "No apparent matches. But if the bastards we're after are connected with this, then Meir is right. They are some very sick individuals."  
  
"Maybe we should watch them," Heero said.  
  
"No, Yuy. Please, take my word on this. It would serve no purpose."  
  
Duo was fidgeting with his braid, twisting it in his hands as he asked, "Are you sure they're just movies? That it's not-not real. People do that, you know, film actual rapes."  
  
"I know, but I'm quite certain this isn't anything other than poorly made smut. Take my word on this, please. Now I need a very long, hot bath. Wufei? I could really use the company. Good night, you two. Get some rest. There's nothing more we can do for now."   
  
He and Wufei disappeared into the master suite. Duo went into the kitchen and came back with a couple of beers and a box of crackers. Taking Heero by the hand, he led him down to their room. Leaving Heero on the bed with the snacks, he went to the bathroom and ran a tub for them. They soaked in each other's arms, drank the beer with crackers, and crawled into bed with the lights on.   
  
"I am up to this," Duo said at last, stretched out on his back with his hands behind his head.  
  
"I know you are," Heero said, and he meant it. He just hoped he was.


	72. Escalation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Trowa sighed as he turned off his phone and pulled Quatre close. The parlor seemed very cold after Heero hung up, even with a fire burning in the fireplace. He felt Heero and Duo's absence like a physical ache, and the phone conversations from Berlin had only made it worse. The Circus, his beautiful creation, felt like a burden, an anchor keeping him from his loved ones and he hated that feeling, too.   
  
He fought to hold off the depression, but Quatre knew. He turned and cradled Trowa's face in his hands, as if he could somehow balance all those conflicting feelings.  
  
"You know they can take care of themselves, right?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. But I'll still feel better when we get there!" Trowa rested his head on Quatre's shoulder. "Do you think we should have told him about the latest letter?"  
  
"Maybe. I don't know. It's not like it changes anything."  
  
Another envelope had arrived from Japan today. Inside they found the usual photo of the rape in progress taped across a page torn from Heero's scrapbook, together with a recent magazine picture of Heero and Duo at a club. Scrawled across it in red were the words, "You look good these days, all clean and healthy. Yum yum. So does your whore boyfriend. Until we meet again."  
  
Trowa had felt sick to his stomach, reading it. Quatre had been more interested in the scrapbook page. The pictures had been cut from magazines like the others they'd seen, but instead of the orderly layout and neatly printed dates they'd seen on the earlier pages, these were haphazardly arranged and surrounded by unintelligible scribbling. What little they'd been able to make out looked like their names and call numbers written over and over again, as if Heero had been afraid of forgetting who they all were.  
  
Quatre spent some time studying them. "These are all from last year, when he must have been at his sickest. This one at the bottom is the latest. See, it's a shot of us in Barbados."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, if these bastards grabbed his scrapbook when they caught him, it was after that July. That narrows down when he must have been in Japan. It's not much to go on, but it is another piece of the puzzle. We'll tell him about it when we get to Berlin."  
  
The ache in Trowa's chest got bigger, thinking about that. He wanted to get on a shuttle right now, if not sooner, armed to the teeth, with a detailed map of where Heero's tormenters were. He wanted to hurt them as badly as they'd hurt Heero.  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't do Red Silk tonight," Quatre said softly, pressing a hand over Trowa's pounding heart.  
  
"No. I can do it." If they had to stay here and go on with the show, he was going to do exactly that. He'd never told anyone, even Kat, but that particular act was a nightly ritual for him. In it he offered up his soul, claimed the pain and destruction of those violent years, sought atonement. On good nights he gained some degree of catharsis; at the very least, the transition to Meld reminded him of how far he'd come. It was hours before the show, however, and he was tensing up. Quatre was right; that could be dangerous.   
  
Intuitive as always, Quatre was already undressing him, running those knowing fingers over Trowa's skin, seeking out the knots in the muscles.   
  
Neither of them really wanted sex. When Quatre was naked, too, and lying next to him on the couch, they just touched and kissed and fondled, offering mutual comfort.   
  
Trowa's eyes stung as he held Quatre close. "We'll find them, corazon, and we'll hurt them."  
  
"We have to be careful, Tro. This isn't the war anymore."  
  
"Oh yes it is," Trowa murmured. "These men declared it when they sent that first picture . . . No, when they laid a hand on Heero. Our Heero."  
  
Quatre was very still for a moment, and then he silently nodded.  
  
+  
  
For the first time since Circus della Notte had opened back in October, Quatre felt no enthusiasm as the opening music swelled. The show went well, though, he had to admit. Trowa flung himself through Red Silk with even more passion than usual. Quatre watched from the wings with his fear hidden away behind his mask and makeup, and his heart in his mouth. He was so nervous he almost missed his cue and had to dash under the stage to his place on the hidden platform. A stagehand helped him find his mark and handed him the mask Trowa would use. Then, in the near darkness, he fought the usual nightly fear, picturing Trowa whirling through the final, most daring spins of the act above him. This was always the worst moment of the show for Quatre; not being able to see his lover, but knowing that if he fell, he'd hear the impact of his body directly over his head, mere inches away.  
  
Once again, however, no thud came, only the dying strains of the music and thunderous applause that signaled another amazing success. The trapdoor slid open and Quatre helped Trowa down. Trowa stripped out of the painted singlet to the scanty costume underneath, sank down into position beside Quatre and gave the signal. The small stage they were on rose smoothly up under the billowing layers of fallen silk. The fabric was swept away and they were revealed to another night's crowd, acting out the bond they'd forged for all to see.   
  
Quatre had gotten a letter of his own the other day, one he'd chosen not to share with anyone, even Trowa, just yet. But the thought of it now added a pang of poignancy and defiance to his performance. Let his sisters and uncles and aunts and cousins and--and yes, Rashid and the others, too! Let them all see who he really was. His heart was naked on this stage and he was proud of what this act stood for. Trowa and Heero and Duo and even Wufei understood; that's all that mattered. He and Trowa would finish this show, and tomorrow's, then go and fight for their beloved, to protect their little family.  
  
The applause sounded even louder tonight, and when the small stage sank away into darkness when they were through, Trowa kissed him even though they should have been dashing to make their final costume changes. Quatre felt tears on Trowa's cheeks.  
  
"I love you, mele. Thank you."  
  
They walked home after the show, and got caught without an umbrella when a sudden winter rainsquall swept in over the Quarter. There were no cabs in sight, so they ran for it. Trowa had worn a heavier coat, and insisted on draping his jacket over Quatre's head. They dashed the last few blocks to the house and arrived at the garden gate breathless and laughing, with Trowa soaked to the skin.   
  
Marie had left lights on for them and there was a note in a plastic baggie stuck on one of the wrought iron points of the gate.   
  
Quatre pulled it off and read it as he hurried Trowa across the garden toward the stairs. "Package from Capt. Po arrived for Mr. Heero. Left it on the kitchen table.' Hey, she works fast! You go get into some dry clothes. I'll bring whatever it is upstairs. You want something to eat?"  
  
"Anything! I'm famished." Trowa gave him a quick kiss and went up the garden stairway to change.  
  
Quatre walked into the kitchen, thinking mostly of hot tea and cold chicken sandwiches. On his way to the fridge he glanced over at the flat package on the table, then stopped in his tracks a few feet away. Something was very wrong.  
  
To begin with, it was too soon for any results from Sally, even if she'd held the lab techs at gunpoint. And even if she'd had any information to send, it would have come down by special courier delivery, or the intercolony mail service. The package had ESUN earthside postage. And, on further consideration, now that he was thinking with his head instead of his stomach, this flat, brown paper wrapped box with its generic, printed mailing label, was far too big for the sort of info she'd send. And she'd never use her home address on the return portion. And why wouldn't she just send it electronically anyway . . .  
  
All this raced through Quatre's mind as he backed slowly to the door. Opening it, he stepped out to call for Trowa and found his husband already leaning on the rail above, watching expectantly for him.  
  
"Tro, come here. Something isn't right about this!"   
  
That's as far as he got before the voice-activated detonator, keyed to all five of their voices, set off the carefully wrapped explosives inside the box and Quatre's world exploded.  
  
+  
  
They'd just sat down to breakfast and Duo was teasing Wufei about the consistency of the scrambled eggs when Heero heard his cell phone ringing. He hurried out to the livingroom where he'd left it and grabbed it up from the coffee table on the fourth ring. The number displayed was Trowa's cell.   
  
"03, you have something?"  
  
There was no answer, just the sound of ragged breathing.  
  
"Trowa? Trowa! Are you there? What's wrong?"  
  
"01." It was a faint gasp. Were those sirens in the background?   
  
Heero forced himself to remain calm as the ragged breathing on the other end grew louder. "03, report!"  
  
It worked. "I called 9-1-1," Trowa replied, his voice alarmingly faint and shaky. "Fire and rescue on the way."  
  
"How bad are you hurt? Where's 04?" Heero ran for the breakfast room, phone clutched to his ear.   
  
An unmistakable sob. "There's blood--all over him! He's not moving. Oh fuck, Heero--- Mele? Mele, wake up! Please, baby, open your eyes." Trowa sounded nearly incoherent as his voice trailed off in another quavering sob.   
  
Heero clutched at the doorframe as his legs threatened to buckle under him.   
  
"Heero, what's wrong?" Duo demanded, knowing at once that something was very wrong.   
  
Heero held up a hand, motioning for the others to give him a minute. "What happened, Trowa? Where are you?"  
  
"A bomb."  
  
"A bomb!"   
  
"Jesus!" Duo and the other were already on their feet.  
  
"At the house?" Heero asked.  
  
More gasping. "Yes, here-- I don't know. There was a package-- addressed to you--maybe that--I don't know!. Quatre said-He said--Something wrong, he said, then the kitchen blew up!" Trowa was sobbing and rambling now. "You guys have to come back!"  
  
"We'll be there just as soon as we can, Trowa. Hang on." Those were definitely sirens he heard in the background, and the crackle of flames, and the loud, insistent honk of fire engine horns. "Listen to me. Stay with me, 03! Is Quatre breathing?"   
  
A strangled groan, from Wufei this time. Zechs put an arm around him. Duo pressed in next to Heero, listening in, his eyes wide and pleading.   
  
"Yeah," Trowa said at last.  
  
"He's alive, but badly hurt," Heero told the others.  
  
"Tell him we're on our way." Zechs took out his own cell phone and called the shuttle port, demanding a priority launch time.  
  
Heero could hear other voices now, police or firemen. Then a man's voice in the background was telling Trowa, "I'm sorry, sir. You're going to have to let go of him so we can help him. Please, Mr. Barton."  
  
"Trowa, let them help Quatre. Let me speak to them, 03. You copy that?"  
  
There was a rustle on the other end, then a calm woman with a New Orleans accent was telling him, "This is Officer Gagne, New Orleans PD. To whom am I speaking, please?"  
  
"This is Heero Yuy. What is the situation, Officer Gagne. How are my friends?"  
  
"There was an explosion, Mr. Yuy, cause undetermined. Probably a gas main."  
  
"Trowa said there was bomb."  
  
"Thank you, I'll make note of that. Mr. Winner and Mr. Barton were caught in the blast. Barton is conscious, but Winner is not. I can't give you any more than that. The paramedics are getting them into the ambulance now. I think--Well, if you could alert their families--"  
  
"We are their family!" Heero growled. "Where are they being taken?"  
  
"St. Xavier's Hospital."  
  
"Give the phone back to Trowa, please."  
  
Another rustle, and more voices in the background; the paramedics were working frantically over them. Heero heard something about head wounds, and a collapsed lung.   
  
"Heero?"  
  
"I'm here, Trowa. Hang on. We'll be there as soon as we can. I'll stay on the line as long as I can, as long as the reception holds out!"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," a stranger cut in. "Mr. Barton is being sedated. I'll have to cut you---"  
  
"Wait, what's their condition?" Heero demanded.  
  
"I can't give out that---"  
  
"Anything!" Heero pleaded. "Please!"  
  
Duo grabbed the phone from him. "Are they going to make it, god dammit?"  
  
"Sir, I'm not authorized---"  
  
Someone else claimed the phone. "Mr. Yuy?"  
  
Heero took back the phone. "Yes, I'm here."  
  
"My name is Zach. I can't give you any detailed information. I'm not a doctor. But Mr. Barton has a concussion and lacerations. Mr. Winner is in worse shape. There's definitely some head trauma and internal injuries. I assume you're on your way?"  
  
"We're in Berlin, but we're leaving immediately by private shuttle. We'll be there by mid morning, your time. Make sure Trowa understands that, please."  
  
"I will, sir. We'll take good care of them, I promise."  
  
"You better!" Duo shouted into the phone.   
  
Heero signed off.   
  
"We're cleared to go," Zechs told him. Not stopping to pack or clean up, Japan and Meir forgotten for now, they headed for home.


	73. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

It was still night in New Orleans when they took off. They couldn't reach Trowa again by phone, but as legal next of kin, Duo finally managed to get through to a doctor. She could only tell him that Quatre was in surgery for head trauma, burns, and internal injuries, and that Trowa was in slightly better shape, but badly concussed and confused. No amount of begging or threats would make her put Trowa on the line. There was no point; he was hysterical and violent, and because of the concussion they didn't dare sedate him.   
  
"He's in restraints, isn't he?" Duo groaned.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Maxwell. It was the only way. He was hurting himself and my staff. Perhaps you can calm him down when you get here."  
  
"Put me through to him on vid!"   
  
"I can't see how--"  
  
"Now!" Duo barked, reaching instinctively for the gun in his boot holster, as if he could threaten her long distance.   
  
"Mr. Maxwell, you are agitated yourself. I don't need him excited any more than he already is."  
  
Heero leaned over Duo's shoulder, into the doctor's view. "Duo is a family member. He has a right to communicate with him. I'll keep things calm on this end and you can terminate the call if you feel it's necessary. Please, doctor."  
  
The woman scowled a moment and seemed to be listening to someone off camera. "All right, then. I'll have a vid link set up in his room. But I don't think you're going to be much help. He isn't very lucid right now."  
  
"I understand." Heero's hand tightened warningly one Duo's shoulder. "So do you, right Duo?"  
  
"Yes, of course," Duo agreed, going all calm and charming on her. "You should also call Dr. Thomas Batoosingh at Winner Memorial on L-2. He's an expert on dealing with screwed up Gundam pilots. I think you'll find him helpful."  
  
The vid screen went blue for a few agonizing moments, then came one again, showing them a shockingly battered, disheveled and clearly frantic Trowa strapped down in a hospital bed. Half his face and one eye were covered in thick bandages, and more were wrapped around his bare chest and arms. An IV dripped into one cuffed down arm.   
  
That looked way too familiar, and worse, seeing Trowa, his strong one, like that. "Trowa? Tro, can you see me? It's Duo."   
  
Trowa's one visible eye tracked his voice unsteadily, and then fixed on the screen set up by his bed. "Duo?" he croaked.  
  
"Yeah, sweetie, it's me. Heero's here, and Wuffie, too, see? Crowd in, guys. Let him see you. Zechs is flying us in as fast as he can and you know what a maniac he is. Hang in there, baby. We'll be there in no time."  
  
"Duo?" Trowa squinted blearily at them. "Where's Kat?"  
  
Duo forced a smile. "The doctor's are helping him, babe. They're taking real good care of him. You gotta let them look after you, too."  
  
"Kat?" Clearly disoriented, Trowa was looking frantically around the room again. "Duo, they took him. I had him, but they took him!" He pulled at the restraints and Duo saw blood ooze in a red stain through the gauze covering one forearm.   
  
"03, lie still!" Heero ordered. "You're safe. Stand down!"  
  
"No!" Trowa cried. "They--he-- I lost him, 01! Got to get to Heavyarms!"  
  
The transmission cut out, then the doctor was back. They could hear Trowa screaming for them somewhere off camera. "You see how it is? He's been like that since he was brought in. He tried to keep the orderlies from taking his partner in to surgery. He was armed. Luckily he passed out long enough for security to disarm him--"  
  
"He's worried sick about Quatre!" Duo shouted at her. "He's got untreated PTSD, too, and he's probably flashing like hell. Put me back through to him, goddamit! Please, just leave the link open so he can see us!"   
  
After a long pause the picture shifted back to Trowa thrashing and crying in the bed.   
  
"Trowa!" Duo shouted, getting his attention. "Tro, baby, listen. It's me again. It's Duo. You with me, baby? Heero, you try."  
  
"03, calm down!" Heero barked.  
  
Trowa fell back against the mattress panting. "01?"   
  
"I'm still with you, Trowa. You have to stop fighting them. They're on our side. They are helping Quatre."  
  
"You gotta lie still, Tro, and get better," Duo pleaded. "I'll keep talking to you, and Heero and Wu, too. Just listen to us, OK? Concentrate. Talk to us. We're coming to help you, but you gotta stay chilly 'til we get there, OK? Do it for Quatre. You know how he gets when someone he loves is all crazy. Remember how you wouldn't let him in my room, last time I went off the edge?"  
  
"Hurt him," Trowa mumbled, that one green eye still wide with panic, but a little more focused now.  
  
"That's right. And I know you would never, ever hurt Quatre on purpose, so you gotta calm down. You gotta get clear so you can be there for him when he wakes up."   
  
Trowa let out a hitching, painful whimper, but nodded. "Gotta get clear. Gotta be clear. Kat? Where's Kat?"  
  
"The doctors are helping him, Tro."   
  
+  
  
Duo stayed on line, talking Trowa down as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Wufei was on the line to Sally, who was currently in transit to Earth. From her they learned that a full scale Preventer investigation of the blast was under way. Fragments of the bomb had already been recovered and were under analysis.   
  
"Thanks. Keep us apprised, please," said Wufei.  
  
"You know I will, as much as I can. Heero, are you there?"   
  
"Here, Sally."  
  
"Heero, I want your permission to hand over the evidence you sent me to Une."  
  
"No!" Panic and stubbornness clenched around his heart. "We don't know that this is related. We're handling that investigation on our own. If it looks like they're connected, then I'll consider it."  
  
Sally scowled at him through the monitor. "You're putting me in a hell of a position here."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry."  
  
She glanced at Wufei. "You know this is wrong. Legally you could be putting yourselves up for an obstruction charge. You could even be working against helping find out who hurt your friends."  
  
Wufei nodded. "Yes, but I have to back Heero on this, Sally. I'm sorry."  
  
She frowned at them for a moment. "You know, there is another way. I could talk to Une, get your Preventer rank and Heero's reactivated."  
  
"No!" Duo and Zechs said at the same moment and with equal distaste.  
  
But Heero found himself considering the possibility. "We could ask for independent field consultant status. Let me think about it, Sally. Right now I just want to see Trowa, find out what he knows."  
  
"All right, but please promise me you four-excuse me-you _five_ won't charge off and do anything stupid and illegal."  
  
It was Wufei who answered for all of them. "Don't ask us for that yet, Sally. For now, please just trust us and don't say anything to Une. Please?"  
  
Sally was clearly wrestling with her better judgment. "Forty eight. I'll give you forty-eight hours, but then I want an answer one way or the other."

"Agreed."   
  
Wufei hung up and Heero switched on the tiny TV screen set in the bulkhead, looking for more news on the explosion. They were over the Atlantic now. Zechs put the shuttle on auto and he joined them. Duo was still talking Trowa through, and Heero was glad to have the others pressed in shoulder to shoulder with him as the first murky, nightmarish images appeared on the screen. The beautiful old house on Royal Street was surrounded by yellow tape, fire trucks and police cars. Red and blue lights strobed in the darkness. A shot through the gate showed a gaping hole in the side of the building where the kitchen door had been, and smoldering timbers beyond. Apparently the fire had been controlled, held to that side of the house, but all around the courtyard they could see shattered windows and smoke damage. Two of the tall palms in the courtyard had been knocked down by the blast and the old fountain had been knocked off its foundation.   
  
Duo glanced over, then quickly covered the voice pick of the vidphone. "Oh fuck! They got caught in that?"   
  
There were no shots of Trowa or Quatre. Apparently the press had gotten there after they'd been taken away by ambulance. The reporters had to settle for camping out in front of the hospital entrance, badgering the police and hospital personnel. No real information was being given out, only that Quatre was still in surgery and that Trowa was unavailable for comment. Duo talked himself hoarse and Heero took over for a while, then let Wufei speak with him.   
  
As dawn brightened over New Orleans, word spread and strangers with candles gathered on the sidewalk by the emergency entrance. Some held up hand-lettered signs. Heero leaned closer and made out messages like, "We're with you, Trowa and Quatre", "Get well soon!" and "New Orleans loves the G-Boys." Others held up Circus della Notte posters of the pair. Some wore the black and silver tee shirts Quatre had designed.  
  
Live coverage came on every half hour, and every time there were more people. The cameras panned over a growing pile of flowers and stuffed animals being piled on the sidewalk. Someone hung up a Circus della Notte poster on the side of the building above it, others added pictures of their own, showing Trowa and Quatre, and even some of the rest of them, dating back to the war. Rumors were flying that Duo and Heero had been caught in the blast, too, perhaps even killed, until someone from the hospital staff made a formal statement, saying that the other three Gundam boys were alive and well and on their way.  
  
They were watching when Catherine arrived looking shell-shocked. Several burly circus friends helped her fight her way through the throng. It was surreal, seeing her on CNN one moment, then having her sit down by Trowa's bed on the vid screen the next.   
  
"Thank you!" she said softly, looking into the vid monitor. "How soon can you get here? It's just crazy out there!"   
  
Zechs overheard. "Tell her ETA 3.5 hours. I have some of my own security personnel on the way to meet us."  
  
Duo passed that on and Cathy nodded. She was stroking Trowa's hair now, and holding the hand with the IV in it. Trowa had gone quiet, calmed by his sister's presence.   
  
"I'll take it from here for a while, OK?" she said. "I'll have them link back to you if he needs you, I promise." Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Thank you all! I didn't know-- I was asleep until they called and then--" She wiped impatiently at her face. "Thanks for being here with him when he needed you."  
  
"Least I could do," Duo replied softly. "Take care of him, OK?"  
  
The link went blue again, leaving them with only CNN for a link. It was the same footage over and over now, with mounting speculation.   
  
Things livened up again when Ahmed, the uncle who hated Trowa showed up with one of Quatre's sisters-Fatima, the older, more religious one with a black scarf around her face. She said something about the will of Allah before she disappeared inside.  
  
The same damn meaningless images played over and over on the half hour all through the rest of that long flight, but Duo wouldn't let them turn it off. Slumped in his seat, he jiggled one foot nervously and strangled his braid with both hands. Heero took his hand, but more for his own comfort than to stop him.  
  
+  
  
They touched down in New Orleans just after 10 AM local time and were met by a confused and chaotic reception committee. Zechs's private security was there, handsome, dangerous looking men in dark suits and dark glasses. Une had sent a Preventer escort, and so had the New Orleans chief of police. Zechs took charge and deftly sorted everyone out. They all ended up together in the back of a black limo at the center of a police convoy.  
  
"Glad we didn't have to ride in the back of a cop car," Duo quipped nervously, clutching Heero's hand and watching the highway fly past outside. "I've had my fill of those."  
  
The cops got them to the hospital and through the mob of reporters and well-wishers outside.   
  
The woman they'd spoken with by vid phone met them in the lobby. "Good to meet you all in person," she said, leading them to a waiting elevator. "My name is Dr. Aaronson. I'm a senior administrator here at St. Xavier's and am acting as a liaison for this high profile situation. As you might gather, the situation with your friends has caused quite a stir."  
  
"I can imagine," Heero said impatiently. "What is the status of our friends now?"   
  
"Quatre is out of surgery," she informed them, pressing the button for the tenth floor. "He'll be in recovery for some time, but he's stabilized, and there doesn't appear to be any brain damage. Trowa is asleep finally. I'll take you up to the private waiting room. Mr. Maxwell can go in and see him as soon as--"   
  
"What about the others?" Duo demanded.   
  
"As legal next of kin, only you--"  
  
"Oh, no way! We're all family, doc!"  
  
"I understand your feelings, but we have these policies for a reason."  
  
"It's all right," Heero said, giving Duo a warning look. "You go see Trowa, Duo. I'll worry about the rest of it."   
  
+  
  
Preventer guards had cordoned off the tenth floor waiting room. Inside their housekeeper, Marie, and a handful of people from the circus sat in stunned silence.   
  
"Oh, Mr. Duo!" Marie said, bursting into tears at the sight of him. "I didn't know. I should have known. Mr. Trowa did say to watch out for packages, and that's why I left that note for them, but I never thought-"  
  
"It's OK, Marie. You couldn't have known," Duo said, patting her shoulder.   
  
He wasn't surprised to find Quatre's sour-faced relatives hunkered down here, shooting him poisonous glances. That was all right; he didn't much like them, either. What he wasn't prepared for was the sight of Rashid towering over the others, with a couple of the other Maguanacs flanking him. Omar and Achmed; he remembered them from better times. Years of resentment on Quatre's behalf boiled over. He marched up to the tall man and did exactly what he'd promised himself he'd do if the bastard ever showed up again. He popped him one on the jaw. It took some reaching, but he managed to rock the giant back on his heels.   
  
"How dare you!" Duo snarled, shoving the other two Maguanacs away when they stepped in to defend their leader. "You fucking traitors! You narrow-minded, backstabbing bastards! You broke his heart and now you show up? You here to gloat or something? Come to make sure they finish him off? And you!" He rounded on Uncle Ahmed and Fatima. "You here to gloat, too?"   
  
Heero stepped in, trying to keep Duo from physically attacking anyone again, but Duo fought him off. "I don't want you here. Quatre doesn't want you here. And Trowa sure as fuck doesn't want you here and you better not let him see you lurking around. You remember Trowa, right? Quatre's _husband?_ The one who loves him and protects him from people like you, you sanctimonious bitch?"  
  
Heero caught a nod from the doctor and dragged Duo, still snarling and gesturing, through a side door and into the corridor beyond.   
  
"Knock it off!" he ordered, giving Duo a shake. "What are you raving about? Trowa needs you calm."  
  
Duo pressed a hand across his eyes for a moment, and then let out a long breath. "Sorry, I just- Those are the ones I told you about. They found out that Quatre was actually performing and went off on him worse than ever. They claim he's dishonored the family, shamed the Winner name and all the usual shit. Only now there's talk of having him declared mentally incompetent. They want to have his marriage annulled and drag him home. And they're real close to getting him stripped of all his holdings in the family company. I'm telling you, Heero, they won't stop until they have him locked up in some loony bin on L-4. Some of the other sisters are backing them up, to get control of Quatre's interests in the company. Kat's lawyer's claim they don't have a case for custodial status, but they could still cut him off without a credit. Trowa found some letter from the evil relatives' lawyer and called Kat's to find out what the hell is going on. Kat hasn't said a word about it to any of us, though, but it must be killing him. You know how he is about his family, under all that tough guy act." He took a deep breath. "And now tall, dark and ugly shows up to gloat, too? Sorry, I just lost it, ok?"  
  
"We'll handle them," Heero assured him, giving him a one armed hug. "You go sit with Trowa and Catherine. I'll make sure they're gone."  
  
"Copy that. Thanks, Heero." Duo gave him a grateful look and a kiss, then followed a nurse down the hall toward a door with four armed Preventers guarding the door.  
  
Heero watched him disappear inside, then went back to the waiting area, where Wufei and Zechs were having a tense standoff with Quatre's family and Rashid.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Wufei was demanding of the tall man.  
  
"Yes, Rashid. Why now?" Heero asked coldly. "Have you joined up with Fatima now?"   
  
"No! We are here to protect Master Quatre," Rashid replied. "We will offer our deep apologies to him and to Master Trowa when they are well enough to hear them."  
  
"And you just happened to be in New Orleans?" Wufei demanded suspiciously.   
  
Rashid folded his arms and looked down at Wufei as if he were an annoying child, which is what the Chinese boy looked like, dwarfed as he was by the huge Arab. "We came to see the show, and to make amends. We have been in the area for a week. Master Quatre knew of our presence, but-"  
  
"But?"  
  
"He wouldn't see us," Rashid admitted. "We have already explained this to the police. I had hoped to convince him to meet with us, to talk."  
  
"Where are the rest of your men?" asked Heero. The Maguanacs had been a tight unit in the old days.  
  
Rashid sighed. "Only the three of us are here. The others-they cannot accept Master Quatre's--choices."  
  
"I see. Well, if you care about him at all, the three of you will get the hell out of here before Duo or Trowa sees you," Heero told him. "You can't help and Quatre can't afford any emotional disruption around him. There's nothing for you to do here."  
  
Rashid considered this, and then bowed. "You are right. We do not wish to cause him any more pain. No one should be allowed to hurt Master Quatre." He tilted his head slightly in Fatima's direction, and Heero nodded knowingly.   
  
With the Maguanacs dealt with, Heero strode over to the two glowering relatives. "Duo is Quatre's closest kin legally, after Trowa. He wants you two gone."  
  
"I am his sister!" Fatima snarled, giving Heero a scathing glare.  
  
"You are involved in legal proceedings against him. Your presence is detrimental to Quatre's recovery." Heero gave them to sort of look he used to reserve for Alliance soldiers blowing up innocent people on L-1. Uncle and niece both took a step back.   
  
"Yes, I agree with Mr. Yuy," said Dr. Aaronson, intervening. "I didn't realize what the situation was, until now." She motioned to two policemen on guard inside the door. "Officers, please see these people off the premises."  
  
Fatima and Ahmed shook off the policemen and stormed out.  
  
Marie whispered to the circus people and they rose to follow. "You got the situation handled now, I guess," she said, patting Heero's arm. "I'll keep the news on. Give them my best, won't you, and do tell them how sorry I am?"  
  
"I will," Heero said. Left alone with Wufei and Zechs, Heero sat down to wait for word from Duo. He didn't realize that his hands were shaking badly until Wufei closed his own over them and gave him a sympathetic look.   
  
"You did well, 01. You protected your friends."  
  
Heero gently pulled his hands free and sat back, closing his eyes and fighting against the rising delayed reactions of the day.   
  
His friends had been blown up, probably because of him.  
  
Quatre could have died. His Quatre! Trowa's reason for life.  
  
Both of them could have been, might even be, crippled, maimed.   
  
Because of him.  
  
He found himself wished he'd punched Rashid, or the relatives. He really, really needed to hurt _someone_ who'd hurt his friends.


	74. Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

A corridor beyond the waiting room led past a nurse's station.  
  
"Trowa Barton's room?" Duo asked, pausing there.  
  
A motherly looking woman smiled at him. "1012, right over there. His sister's still with him."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Two armed Preventers sat in chairs on either side of the door. Duo nodded to them, then slipped quietly into Trowa's room and found Cathy hunched in a chair by the bed. He was still in restraints. It hurt Duo, to see him like this. It wasn't right. Trowa was not the one who--  
  
He shook off that train of thought. The last thing anyone needed was him going to pieces. Cathy was reaching over the metal rail to hold Trowa's strapped down hand. Trowa appeared to be asleep, and Cathy held a finger to her lips as she acknowledged Duo's arrival. Without a word, she motioned him over, gave up her seat, and guided his hand to cover Trowa's. Leaning down, she kissed Duo on the cheek and whispered, "Glad you're here! He's calmed down a lot, and I need a pee break and some coffee. You want anything?"  
  
Duo shook his head and fixed his attention on his sleeping friend. Trowa's hand was cold under his, and he worried that the padded canvas cuff was cutting of the circulation there. Cathy closed the door very softly behind her as she left, but Trowa's one visible eye snapped open, wide with alarm. The pupil looked normal, Duo saw with relief.  
  
"Hiya, Tro. I'm giving Cathy a rest, OK?" Duo leaned over, making sure Trowa knew who he was. Trowa's fingers tightened around his.  
  
Duo stroked Trowa's ragged bangs back and felt how the hair was still stiff with dried blood. The loose hospital gown hung low on his chest; there were a number of minor cuts and scratches, there, and a dark bruise on his right shoulder, as if he'd fallen on it. Duo gently kissed Trowa's brow, then scattered a few more on his cheeks and chest. Kissing it better, he thought.  
  
"God, Tro, I'm so glad to see you awake! You had us scared, babe."  
  
"Sorry. Kat?" Trowa croaked through dry lips.  
  
There was a glass of ice water with one of those bendy straws on the night table. Duo held it down for Trowa to take a sip. "He's in recovery. Still unconscious, but the doc says he came through with flying colors. He's banged up pretty bad, I guess, but no brain damage."  
  
Trowa lay back again and pulled weakly at the restraints. "Some switch, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I was kinda thinking that. But I've still got you beat for crazy."  
  
Trowa gave him a sad smile and squeezed his hand again. "Glad you're here. Really glad. I was-- I know they say he's OK, but I'm scared, Duo."  
  
"Yeah, me too. We'll go take a look at him for you just as soon as they give the OK, I promise."  
  
Trowa nodded, but his lips were trembling and turning down at the corners, like a little kid about to cry. Which is exactly what Tro sounded like when he whispered, "Where's Heero?"  
  
"He's out there dealing with--" Duo stopped. Trowa didn't need to be worrying about any of that family shit right now. "He's taking care of questions, running interference for you. You know how he is, all protective. You want me to go get him?"  
  
A tear welled up in that green eye and rolled down Trowa's cheek. He nodded, pleading mutely. Duo leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "You got it, buddy. I'll be right back."  
  
He shook his head as he hurried back past the nurses' station and out to the waiting room. Trowa had always been the strong one for him and Quatre, and for Heero, too, when it was necessary. But Trowa could let himself lean on Heero in a way that he didn't with anyone else, except maybe Cathy. Duo and Quatre had both picked up on it, especially since the "intervention" at the beach house. Tro and Heero were both alpha males for sure, but Heero was top dog in Tro's mind. The "thing" he had for Heero was still there, and it ran deep, even without actual sex. Duo supposed he could have been jealous of that if he really wanted to be, but his own feelings had mellowed out these past few months, too, maybe because sex didn't seem to be an issue anymore. With that off the table, he was happy to share Heero just about any other way. After all, he'd had to learn to share what he felt for Trowa with Heero, too.  
  
He supposed their lives were pretty complicated and messy by normal standards, but fuck normal. He wouldn't have it any other way. A rush of warmth and gratitude underscored the feeling when he saw the way Heero rose to meet him the minute he appeared in the doorway. Wufei was there, too, sitting on the couch with an arm around Cathy. Duo blinked in surprise. He knew Wufei had hidden out briefly at the circus during the war, but it hadn't occurred to him that they might be friends. Then again, this new Wufei, the one who'd come back from Sanque with a tall handsome lover and a soft secret smile, was always surprising him these days.  
  
"Tro needs you," Duo told Heero, and saw a mix of worry and relief in those deep blue eyes. "He's still pretty shaky, but I told him Kat's out of the woods for now." Duo looked around, seeing two of Zechs's security men by the outer door, but no Zechs. "Where's Big Blondie?"  
  
"Stepped out to make a call, he said."  
  
"And the nasty relatives?"  
  
Heero gave him a dark grin. "They left. One of the nurses told me that Rashid and his men are keeping watch downstairs and no one dares interfere with them. Are you coming back in?"  
  
"In a minute." He gave a slight nod in Cathy's direction.  
  
Heero nodded back and headed down the hall. Duo sat down beside Cathy and took her hand. "How you doing?"  
  
"He's going to be all right," she said, as if he needed comforting more than she did. "And the doctor just came in with an update on Quatre. His brain function really does appear normal. But he's got two broken arms and cracked ribs and a collapsed lung and--" She caught her breath and blinked back tears. "Their show, Duo! They're supposed to open in New York next month! The stage is already built and some of the equipment has already been shipped! What are they going to do?"  
  
"We'll help them figure that out when they're stronger, OK? Right now we have to get them healthy. Right, Wu?"  
  
Wufei nodded and patted her shoulder. "They're strong, Catherine. They've both survived far worse than this."  
  
She wiped at her eyes and tried to smile again. "Yes, I know. But he's still my little brother and it's hard to seem him like this! And poor Quatre! If anything happens--if he took a turn for the worse? I don't think Trowa can live without him."  
  
"Don't talk like that! Nobody's going to die!"  
  
Wufei reached around Cathy and clasped Duo by the shoulder. His grip was tight enough to get Duo's attention, but his eyes were kind. "No one is going to die."  
  
+  
  
Heero's heart was racing by the time he reached Trowa's room, but he forced himself to look calm and went in, braced for--what?  
  
_//My fault!//_ he thought again, heart sinking coldly at the sight of Trowa still strapped down and wan. He hesitated just inside the door, expecting Trowa to start yelling at him.  
  
Instead, Trowa's bound hand twitched, long fingers reaching futilely for his hand. There were tears on his cheek, the unbandaged one. Trowa was crying. Heero didn't think he'd ever get used to that, not even with all the other crises they'd been through together. Pushing aside his own guilt, he went to him and wiped Trowa's cheek with a corner of the sheet.  
  
"Easy, 03. I'm here."  
  
"Oh Heero!" Trowa gasped, and let out a hitching sob as more tears came.  
  
Heero unbuckled the wrist straps, lowered the bed rail and stretched out beside Trowa on the side without the IV, taking that lanky, shaking body in his arms as gently as he could and holding Trowa as he cried.  
  
"I'm sorry, Trowa! Sorry for all of this!" he whispered into his friend's hair. "If I'd known I'd be bringing all this into your home--"  
  
"Don't!" Trowa sobbed, yanking the IV loose as he threw his arms around Heero and held on. "Not your fault! Just don't let him die, please! Don't let him go!"  
  
"Quatre's going to be fine," Heero assured him, though in his heart, he felt the same fear. If Quatre died, then nothing anyone said was going to make him believe that blood wasn't on his hands. Maybe he'd been right to stay away before. If he hadn't come back--  
  
He didn't realize he was babbling all this aloud until he felt Duo's hand stroking his hair. "If you hadn't come back, I'd be dead, babe," Duo said, his voice none too steady, either. "You didn't do this, Heero. You've got to let go of that. It doesn't help and it doesn't change anything. Those fuckers picked this fight, and they're going to pay."  
  
+  
  
Duo sat down and got his arms around both of them, resting his head on Heero's shoulder and giving Trowa his braid to hold. "This isn't over. We're going to make it right. You just have to hang in there and get strong again."  
  
"I'm OK," Trowa whispered. "Really glad you guys are here."  
  
"Tell us what happened," Heero asked.  
  
That was Heero all right, down to business, proceed with mission. Duo wondered if Trowa had understood the depth of guilt behind Heero's concern. Perfect Soldier boy had been silently blaming himself ever since they got the news, and holding it all inside.  
  
"We finished the show and walked home." Trowa leaned into Heero's touch as he dabbed fresh tears away with a tissue. "Marie had left a note on the gate, said there was a package for you from Sally. I went upstairs to change--we got caught in the rain. I gave Kat my jacket--" More tears, and the words became more frantic, more jumbled. "I should've seen that it was too early for any results, I should have gone! I shouldn't have let him just walk into it alone like that!"  
  
"Stop, 03," Heero ordered gently. "What happened next?"  
  
"I changed and stepped out to see if he needed help carrying supper upstairs. He was going to make us some supper. He came out and called to me, then--" Trowa drew a ragged breath. "Boom! There was fire and shrapnel and-- It blew him halfway across the courtyard. He just--just flew through the air like--like---"  
  
Heero held Trowa as the other boy broke down completely. "The blast took out all the windows," Trowa gasped out between sobs. "Knocked me back through our bedroom window. I--I don't know how long I was out but when I got downstairs he was just lying there by the fountain, all bloody and burned and-And--" He struggled up in the bed, panic clear in his eye. "Are you guys sure he's OK? You'd tell me the truth if he wasn't, right?"  
  
"You know I would," Duo reminded him. "So would Heero. We're going to fix it so you two are in the same room as soon as Kat's out of recovery, so you don't worry yourself sick. I'll explain how things are, and if they don't listen to me I'll sic Heero on 'em."  
  
Trowa fell back and closed his eye. For a moment Duo thought he'd gone to sleep, but that eye snapped open again, all wild again.  
  
"He's scared!" Trowa yelled, fighting against the remaining restraints again. "It's Kat. I can feel him! He's scared and crying! I've got to go help him, please! He doesn't know I'm all right! Duo, Heero let me up!"  
  
"Stay with him. I'll go check," said Heero. "Keep him calm, 02."  
  
Duo held Trowa, cradling his head against his chest and stroking his hair. Trowa would have seriously harmed anyone else who'd tried to hold him back from Kat. Heero knew he wouldn't hurt Duo.  
  
+  
  
Heero strode out to the nurses station. "Mr. Winner-Barton. Where is he?"  
  
"He's just been moved into a recovery suite on this floor, sir." She consulted a monitor in front of her, and then turned it so Heero could see a small, heavily bandaged figure under a white sheet on a bed. "He's still not awake, but his vitals are good. A little elevated, but that's not unusual."  
  
The monitor also showed the room number. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll go tell Trowa."  
  
Heero walked back to Trowa's doorway, then glanced back to make sure the woman wasn't watching him. When the coast was clear, he hurried around a corner to find Quatre. His room was easy to spot. There were armed Preventers on duty there, and they had no authorization to allow Heero inside. Violence was tempting, and might have been a temporary solution, but not a viable long-term answer to his problem. Sitting down in a chair down the corridor, he sank his head into his hands as if he was very tired. Recalling how he'd reached out to Quatre in the past, he made a conscious effort to keep his thoughts mentally soft and gentle as he stared at the door.  
  
_//Quatre, I'm here.//_  
  
It had always been a one-way circuit. There was no way he could tell if Quatre was in any shape to feel his thoughts. It was probably stupid to even--  
  
He felt a familiar tingle at the center of his chest, just over his heart.  
  
_//Quatre, it's Heero. I'm right outside your door. You're safe. Trowa is safe. He's just scared for you, and confused from a bump on the head. Don't worry if you feel fear from him. He's all right. And we're all here, Wufei and Zechs, too. There are guards. No one will hurt you here.//_  
  
He stopped. His head hurt and his chest ached and there was tightness in his throat, but he didn't know if it was his own emotions overwhelming him, or some response from Quatre. For all he knew he was doing more harm than good.  
  
A light touch on his shoulder startled him. One of the Preventers stood there, having just taken a quick, wise step back. Heero wondered what his expression had been; it obviously hadn't been welcoming, that was for certain. "Yes?"  
  
"I just contacted the doctor in charge, sir. She said you can go in."  
  
Heero blinked up at the man, then stood. "Thank you."  
  
The man gave him a shy look. "You don't remember me, do you, Captain Yuy? I was assigned to your detail just before you, uh--disappeared. In Sanque?"  
  
Heero looked at him. Nothing. Complete blank.  
  
"It's all right, sir. I heard how sick you were. But I would never have guessed. You were good, even like that. The best. It was an honor to serve with you, sir!" He snapped a sharp salute and Heero returned it, then pushed past him and opened Quatre's door.  
  
A nurse was there, doing something with the multitude of tubes and wires snaking into the bed. Quatre, or rather what little of him that was actually visible among the bandages and monitors, looked like a child, dwarfed by the technology keeping him stabilized. The smell of singed hair mingled with disinfectant and the ozone smell of the regeneration units. White plastic housings covered both of Quatre's arms, one leg, and most of his torso, healing tissue and bone. What Heero could see of his face around the oxygen mask and breathing tube was bruised and he had two black eyes, but otherwise didn't seem too badly damaged.  
  
"How is he?" Heero asked the nurse, unable to help himself.  
  
"He's badly hurt, but he'll pull through," she assured him kindly. "The doctor called and said it was all right for you to sit with him for a while. His vitals have been fluxing. If they go too high I'll have to ask you to leave."  
  
"Yes, I understand." He hoped she'd leave. He didn't really need an audience when he broke down and cried.  
  
She gave him an understanding smile and went to the door. As she passed him, she paused and took a plastic envelop from her pocket. "These are the personal effects they removed before surgery. Could you give them to his husband, please?"  
  
Husband. She said it very kindly. Heero liked this nurse very much, he decided, noting the name on her ID badge.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Ortiz. I'll do that."  
  
She left him alone and he went to the bed and just stood there for a while, stupidly trying to figure out how he could touch Quatre without hurting him. Both hands were covered. Heero needed to touch him, feel life through his friend's skin. Quatre was too pale, too still. The regen unit kept Heero from seeing if he was breathing properly; except for the steady, rhythmic hiss of the oxygen mask and the soft tones of the monitors, he might have thought Quatre was dead-- No, don't think that!  
  
Sitting down before his knees gave out, he pulled up the bottom corner of the sheet and held Quatre's cold, bare foot with one hand. Heero was still clutching the envelope the nurse had given him in the other. It was clear. Inside, he saw a dozen or so ear studs and eyebrow rings, the pieces of three stainless steel "dumb bells" from Quatre's scrotal piercings and, he noted with a shudder, the gold nipple wedding ring. It was still whole and covered in dry blood; this piece of jewelry had been torn free, rather than carefully removed like the others.  
  
_//Don't think about that. Don't give way to guilt or anger or the desire to hurt and revenge. Quatre can feel it and it hurts him. Keep to the mission.//_  
  
"Quatre. I'm here with you," Heero whispered, gently squeezing that cold foot. To his surprise, it twitched under his fingers.  
  
"Can you hear me?" Heero asked. "Twice for yes."  
  
The foot twitched twice in his loose grip. Looking up, he saw that Quatre's eyes were open now, though unfocused and dull.  
  
"Are you in pain?"  
  
One twitch. That would be a no.  
  
"Trowa's all right."  
  
Yes.  
  
"I'm so sorry you got hurt!" Heero blurted out.  
  
There was no response, but Quatre was blinking and trying to turn his head. Heero rose and stood where he could see him. "Lay still, little one."  
  
That got him a bleary glare. Heero had been informed more than once that Quatre hated being called that but sometimes he couldn't help himself. Sometimes he really did think of Quatre that way and now was one of those times. He wanted to gather the boy up in his arms the way he had Trowa, but it was impossible. A tear fell down to spatter softly on the front of the regen unit over Quatre's chest.  
  
"I am sorry, Quatre," he rasped, needing to say it.  
  
Quatre blinked at him hard, and just once. A clear "no", whatever that meant.  
  
"Are you mad at me?" Heero asked.  
  
An emphatic no, but that didn't make him feel any less guilty. But he had to get a grip. He was probably causing Quatre pain, being upset about that.  
  
Quatre sensed that and blinked yes.  
  
Heero took a deep breath and stilled his mind. Following instinct, he bent down and kissed Quatre's forehead very gently, and was overwhelmed by the smell of burnt hair. The front part of Quatre's hair looked fine, but the back of his head, or rather the part not cradled in another regen unit, was now covered in nothing more than a little scorched fuzz. His ears were red and blistered and shiny with burn cream. From this position, Heero could see that Quatre's entire torso was encased in the central unit, back and front above the waist. Suddenly Heero needed very badly to see what the sheet was hiding. With a silent apology to Quatre, he lifted it and held his breath, only to let out a sharp hiss of relief. A burn unit cradled Quatre's back from shoulders to buttocks, but in the front it only went down to the bottom of his rib cage. The skin on his belly and the fronts of his legs was almost untouched. Except for a bandage applied to the back of his scrotum, Quatre's genitals appeared unscathed.  
  
"You're OK down there," he said, giddy with relief. He saw the same emotions mirrored in Quatre's eyes, right before they brimmed over with tears. Heero pulled the sheet back over him and found tissues in the nightstand.  
  
"It's all right, Kat," he whispered, crying again himself as he wiped the tears from Quatre's cheeks. "Your belly tattoo is fine, too. Trowa will be happy about that. Just give the regen some time and you'll be as good as new. You've seen what it did for Zechs. You're going to be fine.  
  
He kissed Quatre again, and then gently combed his fingers through the front of his hair. "Does it hurt when I touch you?"  
  
A strong no.  
  
"You want me to keep doing it?"  
  
Definite yes.  
  
"Good." Heero pulled up the chair and settled down to stroke his hair and face. "I'm here, and Duo's just down the hall with Tro. Wufei's out in the waiting room with Cathy and Zechs. Tro's fine, I promise just really worried about you. I know they'll let him come see you soon. Duo and I are going to get you two into the same room as soon as we can, OK?"  
  
Yes.  
  
"I love you, Quatre. I love you so much!" Heero's chest hurt as he said it and he ached again to hold him. "I think--I think maybe us splitting up isn't such a good idea. I haven't talked to the others, not really, but I think maybe they're feeling the same."  
  
Quatre blinked a yes.  
  
"I'll talk to Duo. He loves you, too. I know that. He just gets scared sometimes, and he needs to know--"Quatre blinked yes again. He understood Duo, probably better than any of them.  
  
Heero wiped his face and Quatre's and stroked his friend's hair back again. "I love you, Quatre." It was silly. He'd already said it and Quatre knew, but he saw the smile in his friend's big blue eyes as Quatre blinked a yes again and knew it meant, "I love you, too, Heero."

+  
  
Dr. Aaronson had given Zechs the use of her office and her private vid link. He sat staring at the blank screen for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts before he keyed in the code for Tokyo information, then typed in his query. It brought up a lot of memories, that name, and more than few qualms. Time was a strange thing to him at moments like this; he'd spent nearly two years unconscious, while others moved on with their lives. Things that seemed like yesterday to him were old news to others. People changed.  
  
He sighed and made the call. The screen lit up blue, with a white "connecting" notation. It hung there as he drummed his fingers on the desktop and rehearsed a suitable greeting.  
  
The connection when through, and the blue screen changed to a photo of a Japanese formal garden. "Nakamura," a familiar deep voice said. It was live; he could hear the question in it as the man on the other end puzzled over the hospital ref code that was being displayed.  
  
Zechs braced himself, and then opened video feed on his end and said, "Hello, Masa-kun. It's Zechs."  
  
He heard a quick, surprised intake of breath, then the video feed link opened on Nakamura's end and he found himself looking into fondly-remembered slanted big black eyes. The handsome OZ officer had let his hair grow since the war. Masa looked better than ever. That smile hadn't changed at all, or the hint of hunger in it. "Zechs? Is it really you?"  
  
"What's left of me." Zechs let himself relax a little, and found he couldn't help a guilty stir of arousal at the sight of him. They'd been a lot more than fuck buddies, back in the day, though that had been a very satisfying element of the relationship they'd shared, first as cadets, and on through their stints as fellow instructors and pilots. They'd never been exclusive, or in love, but they'd been good friends, in bed and out. They'd shared some good times and gotten each other through some very bad ones.  
  
Masa stared at him, shaking his head in disbelief. "Damn! Sexy Zechsy! The Academy's own platinum wolf! You're all over the news again lately, bro. I thought about calling, but well--I didn't think you still remembered me."  
  
"My life has been very strange, as you've proably heard. I didn't know if you'd still speak to me," Zechs admitted.  
  
Masa shrugged. "Ancient history. We all paid for our sins. How the hell are you?"  
  
"I'm well now, Masa-kun. And you?"  
  
Masa's smiled widened. He sat back from the screen, letting Zechs see that he was in a bedroom and wearing an open black kimono and little else despite the relatively early hour. There was a slim, dark-haired, naked someone asleep on the futon behind him. "You remember Keno, that hotshot flyboy who came in with the last cadet cadre before the OZ takeover?"  
  
"Masa, you dog!" Zechs chuckled. Every instructor at the Academy had wanted that kid, for one reason or another. Zechs had made a play for him himself, but Keno had claimed to be straight back then.  
  
His old friend grinned even wider. "I made an honest man of him five months ago on L-2. We're open minded, though, if you and that little Gundam honey boy of yours ever want to drop by. Damn, Zechs, you always did get the cream of the crop!"

"Except Keno," Zechs reminded him, smiling. "Congratulations, Masa. I'm really happy for you. Chang and I are exclusive, but thanks for the offer."  
  
"Old times sake, eh? We were pretty damn good together, too, you and me. And I'm not the only one willing to forgive and forget, if you know what I mean. You've still got friends from the old days, if you want them."  
  
Zechs blinked back the sudden stinging behind his eyelids. "Thanks. I--I didn't know."  
  
"Yeah, well, your sister wasn't too keen on anyone from the Academy getting in touch with you, after you came back from the dead. We weren't so sure that you wanted to know us, being a prince again and all. But I saw that press conference you gave in Sanque." Masa laughed softly. "Watching that, I thought, 'hey, maybe he hasn't' changed so much, after all.' Still spouting poetry, too, I see. Remember how you used to whisper dirty Ginsberg in my ear while you- Well, never mind. Ancient history, right?" He gave Zechs a look of genuine fondness. "What can I do for you, bro?"  
  
"I understand you run a private security company in the city. I have a situation that needs looking into, but very quietly. No authorities. Are you interested?"  
  
"Anything for you, Zechs." And his tone said clearly enough that legality was not an issue.  
  
"I need to know if there's anyone around Kisarazu district spouting off hatred of the Gundam pilots, Heero Yuy in particular."  
  
Masa's smile faded. "Be quicker to ask who doesn't have a grudge against that guy, down there. No offense to your lover, Zechs, I know they're still friends, but there were a lot of casualties in those raids, and some of them were civilians."  
  
"I see. Well, just narrow it down to those you think might take action. Violent action. There have been threats received, and there was a mail bomb today that may be related."  
  
Masa's gaze shifted downward as he made notes on a pad beyond camera range. "Grudge. Violent. Explosives expertise. Got it. Any other connections you can give me?"  
  
Zechs thought for a moment. "Are you familiar with the Gundam S.K.U.M. pornos?" He was sad to see a look of guilty recognition cross his friend's face.  
  
"Uh, yeah. I saw a couple a few years back, right after the war. Sicko stuff, though."  
  
"That's the kind of person I think we're dealing with, though I can't say for certain if they're related."  
  
"What about Raphael Conte?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Raphael Conte. He's the guy who makes those films. He lost people on those raids, too, according to his hype. He lives here in Tokyo. I thought you knew?"  
  
"I don't suppose you have a photo of the guy?"  
  
"I can get you one. Give me your email."  
  
"I'm keying it in on your screen. Hang on a minute, Masa. I need to check something."  
  
Zechs ran back to the waiting room and found the duffle he'd left there. Ignoring the curious looks from Catherine and Wufei, keeping his back to them to shield what he was doing, he dug down through his rumpled clothes to the vid sleeves he'd buried there. Turning the first one over, he squinted at the fine print on the back. Tokyo. They'd been produced in Japan.  
  
He went back to the booth and found Masa waiting for him. "I need an address."  
  
"I'll email you in a couple of hours. Anything else?"  
  
"I don't know yet. This is a situation I'm only assisting with. But I appreciate the help, and so will they."  
  
Masa nodded slowly. "Zechs, do me a favor, will you?"  
  
"Sure. What is it?"  
  
"If Yuy is one of the people you're working with on this, I don't want to know, OK?"  
  
"Of course. Whatever you say. May I ask why, though?"  
  
Masa met his eye in the vid screen, and a lot of the warmth was gone from those dark eyes. "He killed my cousin and some of my friends. It was battle, but he killed them all the same. I'm not saying I have a personal vendetta or anything, but I also have no love for the guy. You OK with that? I'll help you, but him I don't want to know."  
  
"I see. But you're OK with me being with Chang?"  
  
"Chang didn't hit Japan, at least not that part. Seems to me you're the one who should have a problem with that particular pilot, if anyone would."  
  
Zechs shrugged. "It was a fair duel, and one of Treize's choosing. There was honor on both sides."  
  
Masa gave him an appraising look. "I see. So this thing with Chang, it's not some kind of payback?"  
  
"What?" Zechs went cold inside, realizing what Masa's assumption had been about his relationship with Wufei. It wasn't too far off from the sort of filth the S.K.U.M. films peddled. "I love him. I'm planning to ask him to marry me. If that's a problem, we can forget about my request for help-"  
  
Masa held up a hand. "No, I didn't mean it like that. Yuy's the only one I have a real problem with, and that's personal. We were all soldiers, I guess. All just doing what we thought we had to. And they got medals at the end, didn't they?"  
  
The bitterness was clear in the man's voice, but Zechs didn't feel like it was directed at him. All the same, he and Wufei probably wouldn't be double dating with Masa and his ex-OZ lover any time soon, though. Life really was very complicated, in this time of so-called peace.


	75. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei shifted in the uncomfortable waiting room chair. Zechs was still off making that call, and Catherine had gone to get more coffee from the commissary downstairs. He was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in this windowless, overheated room, and more than a little useless. A television in the corner delivered a steady stream of commentary on this situation; the crowd of well wishers on the sidewalk out front continued to grow. The pile of offerings had become a problem and the police were trying to deal with the island of flowers, circus posters and stuffed animals blocking the stairs. People were holding up candles, flowers, signs with messages like "C. D. N. Forever", "We love you, G-Boys!" and "The war is over! Leave them alone!" One group had shown up dressed like the opening act of the circus, complete with a tall, skinny man in black clothes and a dented top hat. There were close ups of people hugging each other and crying, and interviews with total strangers in tears over the fact that Trowa and Quatre had been hurt.   
  
"The war's over, you know?" one young man made up to look like Quatre in the show, complete with blue body make up said angrily. "He and Trowa are more than just ex-soldiers. They're artists. They've created something magical and the show's been good for New Orleans."  
  
"What's going to happen to the show?" a fat girl in a top hat and streaked make-up cried, holding a crumpled tissue to her mouth. "I've seen the show ten times, no twelve now! My friends and I work extra shifts at the diner and stand in line for rush seats. We even got tickets to the New York opening. The whole show is beautiful, but let's face it, without Trowa and Quatre? I dunno. They _are_ the circus. What's going to happen if they can't perform anymore? I heard they're crippled. Someone said Quatre lost an arm or broke his back." She broke down and the camera shifted away to a knot of weeping girls, all in approximations of show makeup and costume.  
  
"Well wishers continue to flock to New Orleans, some them from as far away as New York and Mexico," a reporter intoned, as if reporting on a state funeral. "Authorities have determined that this was in fact a bombing, although no suspects have been identified. There seems no doubt, however, that this must be in some way connected to the Winner-Barton's past as Gundam pilots. For many, the wounds of war are still fresh. Yet as you can see from this outpouring of emotion. Doctors continue to say that it is too soon to comment on Quatre Winner-Barton's condition, but assure us that there was no dismemberment, and that he is expected to recover. Trowa Barton-Winner is conscious, and his injuries are said to be minor."  
  
Wufei shook his head, torn between a grudging gratitude for such a show of support, and unease seeing total strangers trying to claim some emotional connection to his friends.   
  
It was a relief when Heero came back in, but his expression had Wufei on his feet at once. Heero was white and looked unsteady on his feet.   
  
"Here, sit down!" Wufei urged, guiding him to a chair. "You should eat something. You haven't had anything all day. You didn't even get any breakfast.  
  
Heero slumped down and rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm all right. It's just--" His voice was thick with emotion. "It's hard, seeing them like that."  
  
"It's not your fault."  
  
"That's what everyone keeps telling me," Heero muttered through his fingers.  
  
Wufei sat beside him, and, after an awkward pause, put a comforting hand on Heero's shoulder. The man didn't acknowledge it, but he didn't shrug him off, either.   
  
They stayed like that until Zechs came back in and sat down on Heero's other side. "I have some information for you."  
  
Heero sat up at once, and a mission glare replaced the fleeting look of despair. "Where from?"  
  
"I have a contact in Tokyo. He got me this." Zechs handed him a list of names and addresses. "The first two are the names of bars in the Kisarazu district where ex-OZ hang out. My contact says they're rough dives, and the patrons are a bitter bunch. It sounds like a good place to start. The last is the man who makes the S.K.U.M. films. He's in Tokyo, too."  
  
Heero read the list, then folded it and put it away in a pocket. "Thanks. I appreciate it."  
  
"He also said there's a lot of hatred against you there. I don't know what you have planned, Heero, and I know I can't tell you what to do, but I'd be very, very careful, no matter what you decide. Understand?"  
  
Heero nodded. "I copy. I should be telling you the same thing, I think. You were wise to call in your security detail. The rest of us are in no shape to watch out for you now, except Wufei. You have more people hating you out there than I do."  
  
Zechs shrugged it off, but Wufei felt a sudden chill. It was true. Zechs downplayed it, but on the way here he'd overheard Captain Stigman, the head of Zechs's bodyguards, giving Zechs an update on threats received. Wufei had also noted that Zechs had tried to keep him from overhearing. They were going to have to talk about that later.   
  
"Any word from Sally yet?" Heero asked him.  
  
"I haven't been able to reach her. I'll try again."  
  
Just then they heard raised voices from the corridor beyond the waiting room, and the high pitched beeping of several monitor alarms.   
  
"1018, stat!" a woman shouted.  
  
"That's Quatre's room!" Heero was already on his way to the door. Before he'd even reached it, they heard more shouting, and the sound of running feet. Then Duo yelled, "Heero, Wu, get in here!"  
  
Wufei, Heero, and Zechs burst through the waiting room door just in time to see Trowa shake Duo and a nurse off, and punch an orderly who must have been trying to get him back into bed. The man's head snapped back and he went flying across the corridor to slide down the far wall.   
  
"Get out of my way! He needs me!" he snarled, elbowing a nurse and shoving Duo away again. Even with a concussion, Trowa was a force to be reckoned with. He appeared to be disoriented again, and was enraged. And all but naked. The torn remains of a hospital gown hung off one shoulder, tangled in the trailing remains of a broken IV line. His body was covered in cuts and bandages and one shoulder was darkly mottled with bruises.   
  
"Heero, make them back off!" Duo called frantically as more orderlies advanced to take Trowa down.   
  
"Let him go to Quatre!" Heero barked, singling out a pretty Hispanic nurse.   
  
"Mr. Winner is coding! Get your friend under control."  
  
"He's coding because Trowa is panicking. He's an empath!" Duo told her.  
  
Wufei and Zechs flanked the others and Duo got an arm around Trowa's waist to steady him as he staggered.   
  
"He's right," Heero told her. "Quatre can feel Trowa's emotions and he's worried about him. The more you keep them apart, the worse both of them will get. Please, let us move Trowa into a bed there. We'll stay with him and keep him from interfering."  
  
"Please, miss, you must listen to him," Wufei said. He was no empath, but he could feel the dangerous aura around Trowa now. The hospital staff didn't begin to understand the sort of people they were dealing with.   
  
Fortunately for everyone concerned, the woman listened, and let them help Trowa limp down to Quatre's room, where a medical team was at work over Quatre.  
  
"Meli!" Trowa cried, staggering to the foot of the bed.   
  
Heero guided Trowa's hand under the sheet to Quatre's foot. "Calm down, 03. Calm down and let him know you're here!"  
  
Making physical contact with Quatre worked. Trowa sank to his knees and wrapped both hands around the small bare foot, stroking it gently. "Corazon, I'm here. Parakolo, meli! Liebchin, can you feel me? I'm here."  
  
Almost at once, the monitor sound slowed down. Wufei looked over Heero's shoulder and saw that the lower part of Quatre's face was obscured by a breathing tube and oxygen mask, but his eyes were open and he was gazing down at his husband and blinking his eyelids.   
  
"He knows you're here," Heero said, stroking Trowa's hair. Kneeling, he gently pulled the hospital gown back around him and took out the IV.   
  
Duo found a thin cotton robe in the closet and draped it over Trowa's shoulders, put an arm around him, resting his head on Trowa's shoulder. "There, that's better, isn't it?" He shot a grateful look at the nurse. "See? You just have to keep them together. So long as they can see each other, they'll be fine."  
  
Wufei felt a light touch on his arm. Zechs guided him back out of the way by the door as a bed was wheeled in and placed close beside the other. He couldn't take his eyes off Quatre. He looked so tiny and broken, encased almost entirely in regen units, or so it appeared. That bare foot still stuck out from under the sheet, and he saw that the nails were painted a smoky metallic purple today. For some reason, the sight of it made his throat tight and his eyes sting. As the initial shock of it all wore off, however, he found his gaze straying to Trowa.   
  
The nurse had had the bed pushed up right beside Quatre's. Trowa lay on his side now, and was reaching over to touch Quatre's hair and forehead. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he kept whispering something over and over, some endearment.   
  
One of the doctors came back in. "I'm sorry gentlemen, but we simply can't have so many people in an ICU room. There's nothing you can do. You should all go get some rest. I'll make sure they are looked after, and no one will try and separate them. You have my word."   
  
Catherine had appeared in the doorway. "He's right. You all look wiped out. I'll sit with Trowa while you get settled somewhere. I spoke with the police a while ago. You can't get into the house yet. It's a crime scene."   
  
"I've reserved rooms for us nearby," said Zechs.  
  
"What security measures are in place, doctor?" Heero demanded.  
  
There were local police, detectives, and a detail of Preventers. That seemed to satisfy him for now.   
  
"Come on," Zechs urged gently. "The hotel is just down the block from here, and my security will cover for us. You can be back in less than five minutes if need be. Sally has your cell number."  
  
Heero and Duo went to Trowa's bed. Duo leaned down and smoothed those ragged bangs back. "Hey buddy, will you be OK if they kick us out?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm good," Trowa said, still touching Quatre's face. "We're fine now. He's going to sleep."  
  
Wufei's eyes stung again and he had to turn away. Then Zechs was there, brushing the back of his hand with his as he led the way out. Wufei shivered at the touch, grateful for the contact. Suddenly he felt very shaky. He hadn't eaten much today either, but he knew that wasn't the reason he suddenly felt so weak and faint. Seeing Quatre like that, seeing Trowa, normally so strong for everyone else around him, shattered and weeping by his lover's side, had upset Wufei badly, though he tried to shake it off.   
  
+  
  
Zechs's dark-suited bodyguards closed ranks around them as the four of them made their way through a back entrance to the waiting car. Even so, Wufei's hand strayed to the gun holstered under his arm, and he saw the others checking their weapons, too, as they found themselves confront with more crowds of well-wishers. People shouted to them, begging for information, called out to all of them by name or call number. There were expressions of surprise as people recognized Zechs.  
  
Duo paused, as if to make a statement, but Heero put an arm around him and guided him into the car. He stared out the tinted window at the crowd, then shared a baffled look with Wufei. "Who are all those people?"  
  
It was Zechs who answered. "Not everyone hates you boys. Don't forget that."  
  
Wufei wanted to believe that, but he kept seeing Trowa and Quatre in his mind's eye; one moment they'd been happy, going about their business, making all these people happy with their new life. The next, in the blink of an eye, it was all shattered. It didn't matter how many people forgave them, were willing to move on and forget. All it took was one lunatic with a knowledge of C-62 and their address . . . He shuddered again and Zechs closed a hand over his. Heero still had his arm around Duo, who'd more or less collapsed against him, eyes closed, face pale and tired. How long had it been since any of them had eaten or slept?  
  
"Wish they are all like that," Duo mumbled, then sighed.   
  
Heero exchanged another look with Wufei, those dark blue eyes still filled with anger and guilt.  
  
"We will find them," Wufei promised.   
  
Heero just shook his head and stared out the window but Wufei saw his arm tighten around Duo's shoulders.  
  
Zechs had booked them adjoining suites on the twentieth floor of a luxury hotel. A few eyebrows were raised in the lobby as the four of them checked in without luggage, but Wufei stared them down disdainfully and none of the others seemed to care. Heero and Duo thanked Zechs again and disappeared into their room. The door closed and Wufei heard the lock snap into place.   
  
Leaving the security men outside, he followed Zechs into their room and locked their door, too. It was a large, lavishly appointed suite, but he scarcely noticed. Leaning on the wall just inside the door, he suddenly felt very empty and scared.   
  
"Mei?" Concerned, Zechs came to him and cupped his cheek. "They're going to be all right, love."  
  
Wufei drew a shaky breath, and nodded. Then he was in Zechs's arms, clinging to him and kissing him. "Make love to me?"  
  
Zechs held him close and stroked his hair. "What's this?"  
  
Everything felt like it was caving in on him; the war was over but not for them. Not for any of them. At any moment a stranger could come out of nowhere and take it all away. There were sick, angry people out there sending his lover death threats, sending his friends hateful mail and bombs! It was a miracle that no one had died today, and it could happen again tomorrow, to any of them!   
  
He wanted to say all this to Zechs, to make him understand, but all he could get out was, "Make love to me, Zechs! I need to feel you! I need to feel you inside me!" He stepped back and pulled off his leather coat and his shirt and fumbled at his belt. "I need you. Please!"  
  
Zechs caught him close again. "Calm down, love. I understand. I do. But are you sure? This isn't how--"  
  
"Yes! Please! I won't try to control anything this time, I promise. I need you, Zechs."  
  
"You have me, mei." Zechs kissed him again, and the tenderness and understanding in his eyes brought Wufei close to tears again. Zechs had seen as much death as he had, maybe more. He did understand. He would take care of Wufei. He'd take care of everything. As always, that thought alone was enough to bring a rush of arousal, and safety, too. Wufei was long past questioning that in himself.   
  
As if reading Wufei's thoughts, Zechs nuzzled his neck and whispered, "My lovely boy! My beautiful little love!" He kissed away the tear that escaped down Wufei's cheek, then released him. "We'll do this right this time. You go start a nice hot bath. I need to send down for a few things. You go ahead and get in. I'll be with you in just a minute. And mei?"  
  
Wufei paused on his way to the bathroom. "Yes?"  
  
"If at any point you change your mind, you will tell me."  
  
Wufei nodded. Yes, Zechs would take care of him.  
  
The tub was a huge square spa affair, with whirlpool jets. He bound his hair up in the back with an elastic, then sat on the toilet lid, watching the tub fill with steaming water. He wasn't scared now, not of the sex, anyway. Some part of him had wanted this for a long time, and that need had been stripped raw by what he'd seen at the hospital. Zechs had been so good to him, so patient in their lovemaking. What if something had happened, something like this or worse, and they'd never had the chance--?  
  
He must have blanked out, because suddenly Zechs was there already naked. He turned off the water, helped Wufei out of his jeans and boots, then guided him into the tub and held him close the way Wufei loved so much. After a few minutes he reached over the side of the tub and then put a small glass of something into Wufei's hand. Absinthe. Wufei hated the taste of the stuff, but liked the effect. He downed the shot and Zechs poured him another. It was vile, bittersweet, but the golden heat of it spread through him almost instantly, melting away the last of his panic //hysteria, let's be honest with yourself, Chang!// but leaving the desire, warming it, spreading it though his belly and groin. Zechs bathed him gently with a thick washcloth, working the rough cloth over his skin in loving circles, and scattering kisses over his face and shoulders.   
  
The hot water, the liquor, the caresses: Wufei floated languidly in Zechs's arms, and parted his thighs willingly at his lover's silent request. Skilled, knowing fingers stroked his half hard cock, cupped his balls, then moved lower, parting his cheeks and gently, oh so very gently massaging the tight ring of nearly virgin muscle between them.  
  
"I'll make it good for you, mei, I promise. There will be some pain at first, but it should pass quickly. If it doesn't, if it hurts too much, you must tell me. I won't risk damaging you."  
  
"I will," Wufei murmured, rocking slowly against those softly massaging fingers. "I promise, but if I don't tell you to stop, just keep going."  
  
Zechs kissed his ear. "I will."   
  
The absinthe was doing its work. He was half asleep but still very aroused as Zechs helped him from the tub and dried them both, then lifted Wufei in his arms and carried him to the bedroom.   
  
The lights were off but candles burned here and there around the room. The bed was turned down and Wufei shivered a little as his skin met cool satin. Looking around he took in how elaborate the furnishings were. "Where are we, the honeymoon suite?"  
  
"Actually, yes." Zechs pulled the tie free from Wufei's hair and combed his fingers through it. "It was one of the only rooms available."   
  
Something dangerously close to a giggle bubbled up in Wufei's chest. "How appropriate."  
  
"Mmmm." Zechs knelt beside him on the bed and kissed his way up Wufei's chest to his lips, then back down to lick his nipples to hard little points. Wufei wondered fleetingly if it was wrong to feel so turned on, given the circumstances, but deep down, he knew he needed this, a defense against a world turned ugly.   
  
Zechs moved lower, down his belly to trail tonguing kisses down the front of his left thigh, and then his right and on for tickling, licking attentions to his ankles and feet, then up, ever so slowly, to his cock. Wufei's erection was stiff and aching as those incredible lips closed around it, but he instinctively pulled Zechs away. "No, later. Don't want to lose the edge . . ."  
  
Zechs nodded. "Hands and knees, little Chang."  
  
It was an effort to move, but Wufei did as he was told, and moaned loudly into the pillow as Zechs rimmed him and licked his balls from behind. His legs were trembling by the time Zechs turned him over again. He'd assumed Zechs was going to take him from the back, but instead, he placed two pillows under Wufei's bottom and one under his head. Wufei spread his legs and pulled his knees back. Zechs hummed approvingly, then began tonguing him again.   
  
Wufei gripped his knees, eyes half closed and unfocused, and he found himself thinking over and over, "It's going to happen now!"  
  
Zech reached up and tweaked his nipples, probing a little with his tongue at the same time. Wufei moaned more loudly and arched under him, wanting more. Zechs was tongue fucking him now. Wufei raised his head, trying to watch. A year ago, even a few months ago, he could never have imagined, much less allowed such a thing. Now he knew he couldn't live without it. Silently he thanked Quatre and Duo and Heero and Trowa, and Sally, too, for helping him discover that it was all right to be who he was.   
  
Lost in pleasure, he let out a little mewl of disappointment as Zechs's mouth left his skin, but then he heard the snap of plastic and started a little as something cool was dribbled over his opening.   
  
Ah, lubricant.  
  
His eyes flew open and he pushed himself up on his elbows. Absinthe and candles might be gotten from room service in New Orleans, but lubricant?  
  
Zechs grinned. "Don't ask!"  
  
Wufei decided he wasn't going to think about facing Zechs's apparently well-equipped security men right now. That indignity could wait.  
  
"Lie down, mei, and enjoy. I'm going to grant your wish now."   
  
But Wufei stayed up a little longer, watching wide-eyed and aroused as Zechs dribbled some of the slick liquid over his own very erect cock and spread it around with his fingers. Wufei's mouth watered at the sight, but he also felt a twinge of nervousness return. Zechs was fully erect now; that long, large shaft curved up against his belly, the thick head, freed of the foreskin, bumping at his navel as he prepared himself. He was grinning again, too, knowing that Wufei was enjoying the show. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Yes. Take me."  
  
Zechs poured more lubricant over his fingers, careless of the sheets, and ran them up and down the cleft of Wufei's ass. The pillows were going to be a mess, but Wufei knew Zechs was using so much on purpose. The first gentle press of a fingertip made Wufei gasp and fall back against the pillows again.   
  
"Remember how we did it that other time?" asked Zechs, circling Wufei's opening with the fingers of one hand as he began to gently stroke Wufei's weeping erection with his other. "Relax. Breathe with your mouth open. Let your body open to me."  
  
Wufei gasped as one finger penetrated him. It burned a little, but nothing like that disastrous time he'd mounted Zechs unprepared. Zechs moved it back and forth, working in deeper and deeper, slicking him inside.   
  
"Uh! Yes." Wufei gasped as Zechs added a second finger and began stretching him. There was a little pain, but he could already feel pleasure in the friction of those fingertips deep inside his body. "Oh, yes. More, Zechs. I want more."  
  
Zechs chuckled, then tightened the fist stroking Wufei's cock as he slipped a third finger in.   
  
"Oh! Oh, god! Yes!" He really did want this. He looked up again, watching Zechs touch him, taking in the intensity and heat in his lover's eyes. Zechs looked up and Wufei felt a jolt of connection that went straight to his cock. "I want you inside."  
  
Zechs slowly withdrew his fingers, then leaned down and gave Wufei a long, lingering kiss. "I love you so much, mei!"  
  
Still leaning over him, gazing into Wufei's eyes, he guided the tip of his erection to Wufei's slicked opening and rubbed it there, letting Wufei feel the round, hot press of it. Then, kissing him again, he pressed inside.  
  
It did hurt. That thick glans felt five times the size Wufei knew it to be as it pressed past that still tight ring of muscle. But it was nothing like last time. Slicked and stretched and glowing with absinthe, Wufei willed himself to open and felt the pain subside to almost nothing. He felt stretched, almost alarmingly so, but the pleasure was returning fast as that silky slick head pressed deeper.   
  
It was the strangest sensation he'd ever felt in his life, at least of the non-life threatening kind. He could feel his body being opened, filled. That cock felt huge inside him. He couldn't possibly take it all in. He was going to fail, disappoint his lover-  
  
And then he heard Zechs let out a ragged growl, and realized that he was in to the hilt. He could feel those heavy balls against his ass; Zechs's pelvis was pressed to his, crisp pale curls tickling against Wufei's scrotum.  
  
"Oh, Wufei!" Zechs gasped, and now he was trembling too. "Oh my god, you're wonderful! So damn tight! I've never felt anything like it!"  
  
Those words were like another shot of absinthe. Wufei instinctively rocked his hips a little and felt that big head stroke past his prostate. "Ah god! Oh! Oh yes. It feels good, Zechs. It feels so good!" He rocked again, seeking that amazing sensation. He found it and cried out again. "Do it. Please!"  
  
Zechs rocked slowly against him, moving in and out in a gentle, teasing rhythm.   
  
Wufei cried out happily as the huge cock stretched and caressed him. Zechs reached for his cock again, but Wufei shook his head. "No! No, just _that!_ Just your cock!"  
  
And as always, his lover gave him what he asked for. He kept it slow and easy, letting Wufei's body adjust and stretch. Sensation overwhelmed Wufei. He tossed against the pillow and began meeting those thrusts with his own, setting a faster pace.   
  
The more Zechs gave him, the more he wanted. He was crying out again, yips and yelps and moans, but he couldn't stop, any more than he could stop himself from wrapping his legs around Zech's waist and pulling him in deeper.   
  
With a deep growl of pleasure, Zechs gripped his ass and pulled him in harder with every thrust. There was no pain now, none at all, only the overwhelming pleasure of being filled and fucked and taken.   
  
+  
  
Zechs fought not to come, but it was a losing battle once Wufei started fucking him back. Usually this wild side came out after an initial orgasm, but this time Wufei lost control almost at once. He arched and tossed under Zechs, and his cries grew louder and more abandoned. And the look on his face! Zechs couldn't take his eyes off him. Wufei was the embodiment of sex and passion and primal sensation, his lips pulled back now in a near snarl as his own orgasm bore down on him. Zechs expected Wufei to ask him to jerk him off, but he didn't, just thrashed under him, thrusting himself up and down on Zech's cock like a wild thing until he came like a fountain against Zechs's belly, crying his name.  
  
Thrilled, Zechs let himself go and came so hard he thought he was going to black out. He was still reeling when Wufei dragged him down into his arms and clung to him again. It took Zechs a moment to understand that his little love was sobbing out, "Can't lose you! Can't ever lose you!"  
  
Zechs hugged him close. "You won't!"  
  
"Don't ever die!"  
  
"I'll try not to."  
  
"Don't get killed!"  
  
"Wufei! Little love--"  
  
Wufei pulled back and stared at him, looking a little hysterical again. "I couldn't stand it! I couldn't stand to be without you!"  
  
Zechs pulled him down again and cradled him in his arms. "It's all right. I'm careful. I don't want to leave you, either, and I don't want to lose you. I couldn't' stand that. So I guess we'll just have to take care of each other."  
  
It took some time to calm him down, but he finally managed it. Wufei curled tight against his side, arm locked around his chest, face pressed into the curve of Zech's shoulder. "I love you," he whispered. "And the sex was fantastic! I don't know why I was so scared of it."  
  
Zechs chuckled and kissed him. "I think you were scared of the fact that deep down, you wanted it so badly. I think you've changed a great deal, these past few months with me. Any regrets?"  
  
"None. God, I love you!"  
  
"That's good, because nothing we just did makes me change my mind about keeping you with me forever, little love."  
  
Wufei sighed and snuggled closer. "Do you think your men heard us?"  
  
"I think most of this floor heard us."  
  
Wufei groaned. "What must they think?"  
  
Zechs grinned against that black silky hair. "I chose them all myself, Wufei. They're the sort of men who will hear that and think that their employer is a very, _very_ fortunate man."  
  
Wufei sighed. "I see. I suppose Heero and Duo got an earful, too."   
  
+  
  
Zechs's head of security could have put his mind at rest on that account; Heero and Duo had left their room while Wufei's bath was still running, saying they were going down to the hotel shop for fresh clothing.   
  
Distracted as the guards were by the noises from inside their employer's suite soon after, no one noticed that the pair had not returned.


	76. Recon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero kept his arm around Duo in the car all the way to the hotel, and held his hand in the elevator as they rode up with Zechs, Wufei and two men from Zechs's private security detail. Duo was grateful for his lover's touch, but suspected that Heero needed the physical contact and comfort more than he did. Nothing any of them could say was going to take that guilt out of his eyes any time soon.  
  
As the elevator rose to their floor he looked over at Wufei and Zechs. As usual, they weren't touching in public, but Zechs was standing very close to him. He was a head taller than Wufei, and everything in his stance broadcast concern and protectiveness. And no wonder; Wufei looked pretty wrecked. He'd been great at the hospital, comforting Catherine like that, and helping them talk Trowa down. Wufei was always strong in a crisis, solid and calm. Duo had lost track of the times he'd been there for him. He wondered now if his own breakdowns had taken this kind of toll on him. If this had been anyone else, Duo would have pulled him over and hugged him, but it was Chang Wufei and because Duo was his friend, he left him alone and pretended not to notice that blank, lost look in those black eyes.  
  
When he and Heero were finally behind the closed door of their suite he wrapped himself around him and felt those strong arms lock around him. Heero didn't break down or anything, just held Duo tight like he was afraid of losing him.  
  
"Heero, it wasn't--"  
  
Heero's arms tightened as he pressed his face against Duo's neck. "Don't. Please don't say it. Everyone's been telling me that, even Quatre, but it doesn't change what happened. I didn't act fast enough. I didn't stop them."  
  
"You don't even know who they are!"  
  
"No, but I know why they're doing it."  
  
Duo hesitated, and then asked softly, "What happened at Kisarazu, baby? Please tell me."  
  
Heero let go of him and sat down on the end of the bed. His expression would have looked hard and uncaring to most people, but Duo saw the pain he was in and at down beside him, not letting Heero keep any distance from him. Heero didn't object.  
  
"It was bad intelligence," he began, his voice flat, like in the old days. He sounded like he was in a debriefing. "It was just supposed to be military factory, our usual kind of target. They made suit parts, I think. But there was personnel housing there, too. Families. They'd put them right next to the factory, maybe to prevent attacks? I don't know. But they shouldn't have been there and J either didn't know or didn't tell me, and I didn't figure it out until it was too late. I heard later that there were civilian casualties. Seventeen non coms were killed. I can tell you their names, if you like."  
  
Duo swallowed hard. "Kids?"  
  
"Not that time. It was a school day. The school was off base."  
  
God, Heero had researched it! They'd probably all killed some civilians by accident; Duo had nightmares sometimes about that, dreams in which he could never see the faces of his victims. But Heero knew the names of his. It had been J's bad intel, but leave it to Heero to take it all on and punish himself with the details. No wonder he'd gone to pieces in the end. And in his fugue state, he'd gone right back to the scene of the crime. Duo recalled how Heero had gone looking for the Noventa family, offering to let them kill him to atone for his mistake at New Edwards. Duo shuddered inwardly, thinking of those rape photos. Had Heero gone to Kisarazu looking for punishment? Duo knew all about that sort of thinking. So did Quatre. But they'd gone to S&M clubs for it, not the enemy.  
  
He took Heero's hand between his own, stroking the backs of Heero's fingers. "Listen to me, baby. What happened there was an accident. You didn't go looking to hurt anyone. But these bastards made it personal. They raped you when you were too sick to fight back. Now they've gone after your family. It's not the same thing, Heero. In war people get hurt. And you were--"  
  
"Just following orders?" Heero cut in. "I know. Dr. Batoosingh has told me the same thing."  
  
Duo blinked in surprise. "You talked to him about it?"  
  
"Just since the pictures started coming. I--I'd forgotten a lot of it." That flat affect was beginning to waver. Duo could feel Heero beginning to tremble a little and grief and anger crept into his tone. "There are still pieces of my memory missing, Duo. There are a lot of things I hope I never remember. When I left Relena's security detail, I was trying to leave everything. I changed my name. I wandered. I was running away. I missed you all *so* much it hurt, but it was a tie to all that and right then I couldn't handle it. I just didn't want to be Heero Yuy anymore!"  
  
Duo put his arms around him and rested his head on Heero's shoulder. Heero grasped the end of his braid and wound it around his wrist; it had become a talisman for both of them. "Other people made you into what you were, Heero. You were just a little kid when they got you. I don't know about that Lowe guy, but J and his crew weren't very gentle in their methods, right?"  
  
"I know," Heero replied wearily. "But I can't change any of that. And it's so damn hard, trying to be someone else!"  
  
Something clicked, something Heero has said back in Spain. When one of the doctors had told Heero he might not get back to the physical condition he'd been in during the war, Heero had said he had no desire to. Duo thought of all those pictures in Heero's sketchbooks: not a wartime scene or even his beloved Gundam among them. He didn't willingly talk about the war, even when he thrashed his way out of the occasional nightmare. It was amazing, really, that the bonds they'd forged back then had held at all, weighed down as they were for him by guilt and memory.  
  
Then again, Duo realized, all five of them had gone to some lengths to distance themselves from all that. None of them talked about it. With the exception of Wu, and Heero's brief stint with the Preventers, they'd all chosen lives that had nothing do to with violence: Heero with his wandering and his newfound love of drawing, Tro and Kat with their circus, the wild sex and drug phases. And himself, too. Only it seemed that Heero, the strongest and most dedicated of any of them, had been the only one who couldn't outrun his past.  
  
Duo kissed Heero on the cheek. "I love who you are, Heero. You're a good guy. My guy. You found your way back to us, and you *are* a new person. The way you are with me, with all of us? Oh, Heero!" Heero's eyes were still dry, but Duo felt himself choking up. "If it takes me the rest of my life, I'm going to show you how good and decent and loving you are!"  
  
Heero sighed and stroked Duo's back under the braid. "Thank you. I do feel some of that, when I'm with you. But it wasn't enough, was it? Now I have to be the old Heero Yuy again and fix this." He stood up abruptly and ran a hand back through his unruly hair. "I 'm going to go look around at the house. Do you want to come?"  
  
"Of course! Let's go."  
  
Duo fed the security guys a line about going to find new clothes in the shop downstairs and they caught a cab to the Quarter. Heero had the driver stop several blocks from the house and they walked the rest of the way, avoiding the streetlamps.  
  
The front door and garden gate were cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape and there were Preventer and NOPD officers on guard. Duo led the way around back where they climbed a live oak and jimmied the bedroom window open. The explosion had disrupted the security system and no one noticed their arrival.  
  
The floor and the unmade bed were littered with shards of window glass on the courtyard side of the room. Some of the jagged pieces still lodged in the frame of one were bloody; that's where Trowa had been blown through. Heero went into the side bedroom and Duo stepped out onto the balcony. From here he could see that the blast had gutted the kitchen, flattened a lot of the trees and plants in the courtyard and taken out most of the windows that overlooked it. The fountain lay in pieces on its side in a large puddle. It wasn't gushing though; someone had found the main and turned it off. The sight of it all made Duo feel a little sick; it wasn't even his house and he felt violated. He wondered sadly if Trowa and Quatre would ever feel the same about this place. They'd loved it so much!  
  
"Duo, come here," Heero called softly.  
  
He was still in the side bedroom. He'd turned on the bedside lamp and stood by the bed, holding a manila envelop in one hand, and an unlabeled vid disk in the other. "This was lying on the bed. I don't see how the cops could have missed it. Someone's been in the house."  
  
Duo took the envelop from him. On the front, spelled out in letters cut from a newspaper, were the words _"TO HeeRO yUy wITh lOVe."_  
  
Without a word, Heero strode down the balcony to the darkened TV room and slipped the disk into the player there.  
  
There was a moment of static, then they were looking at the courtyard below, at what was obviously just moments after the explosion. The glow of flames from the ruins of the kitchen doorway threw shadows and red light across the walls. The cameraman zoomed in on the blast zone, then quickly panned across the cobbled, debris-strewn courtyard to the broken fountain. It had been knocked off its foundation and water was spraying up from a broken pipe. The picture zoomed in and they saw Quatre lying in a twisted heap in a puddle beside it, the remains of his clothes in blackened shreds, with terrible burns and cuts all over his back and legs. The cameraman took a moment to catalogue those injuries, and the fact that he was bleeding from his nose and both ears. The back of his head was red and blistered, the hair burnt away to the scalp. He was also bleeding badly from at least one head wound. Mercifully, he appeared to be unconscious.  
  
The picture shifted dizzily up to the balcony, as if the cameraman was looking for Trowa, then back to Quatre. It moved in close and a man's hand appeared in frame, reaching down to grasp the shining gold ring through Quatre's left nipple.  
  
Heero let out an outraged gasp and clutched at his own chest as the unknown assailant yanked hard-- hard enough to tear skin and draw blood, not quite hard enough to pull it loose. The hand disappeared, then came back holding a Mauser .38. He pressed the muzzle to Quatre's temple and pulled the trigger. Duo flinched at the sharp click of a dry fire. The chamber was empty, but the message was clear. Someone had gotten close enough to film this, and could have easily killed Quatre if he'd chosen to. The camera wavered and the screen went blank for a moment, then was replaced by a still shot of a post card. It was an old fashioned precolony one, made of pasteboard, with a faded color photo of a city skyline at night. In the upper corner, in English, white letters spelled out "Kisarazu! City of the Future."  
  
The shot remained steady, but this time there was sound. A man's electronically distorted voice whispered, "I hope you enjoyed the show, Yuy. Next time the gun won't be empty. How many more of your pretty little boyfriends have to get hurt before you come and visit me? I'm losing patience."  
  
This was followed by a series of still shots, like a slide show: Trowa and Quatre walking into the performers entrance at Circus Della Notte; Heero sketching at a cafe; Duo buying apples in the French Market; Quatre at the corner grocery; Trowa at the garden gate.  
  
Heero stood through it all, hands clenched, glaring at the screen. When it was over, he played it again, and then a third time as they both searched for some clue. But apart from the postcard and the obvious effort to goad them into acting, there seemed to be nothing.  
  
Duo shut off the television and waited for Heero to speak. He didn't say anything for a long time, just stood staring at the blank screen. Then he reached into his pocket and took out a plastic envelope holding some jewelry. Quatre's jewelry, Duo saw. He took out the gold nipple ring and held it up for Duo to see. There was still dried blood on it.  
  
Heero was wearing a knotted leather thong choker, one that Duo loved him in. He untied it and slipped the ring onto it, then put it back on. When he looked up again, Duo felt a chill. Those dark blue eyes were hard as stone and focused as a laser beam; full mission mode.  
  
"Heero, we need a plan," he warned.  
  
"I have one. I'm going to kill whoever is responsible for this."


	77. Frantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Quatre remembered the blast, and being thrown through the air, but not much else. He had a serious concussion--at least he thought he remembered someone trying to explain that to him in a cold white room where the lights were too bright and there was too much pain and noise for him to bear and he couldn't breath. He was drowning, unable to get any air into his lungs . . . A sharp, silvery cold jab in his arm and he sank away into silence.   
  
...  
  
_// Meli! //_  
  
Trowa's anguish pulled him back to the too bright place. Quatre felt his love's fear like physical pain and couldn't get to him. Couldn't even move or open his eyes. He was trapped, immobilized . . .  
  
"He's coming out of it!"  
  
"Coding!"  
  
_// Meli! Quatre, where are you? //_ Pain from Trowa, so much pain . .   
  
"Jesus, he's moving!"  
  
Pain! Quatre tried to scream but something was rammed down his throat, holding his jaws open and someone was holding him down . . . So much pain!  
  
_// Quatre! Quatre! //_  
  
"Get the damn cervical block in, stat!  
  
So much pain!   
  
Then blackness again . . .  
  
...  
  
  
Cold. Held down. White light in his eyes. . . No pain.   
  
. . . in a hospital bed, tube in his throat, holding his mouth open. He was so thirsty! So thirsty . . . body encased in hard plastic boxes. Regeneration units? How bad was he hurt? Where was Trowa? He couldn't feel him now . . .  
  
...  
  
Oh Allah! He couldn't move, couldn't feel his body at all, apart from the irritation of a breathing tube in his throat and an annoying itching at the back of his head. He panicked but he still couldn't cry out.   
  
Another blast of fear from Trowa, mingled with anger and confusion. His lover was hurt, but he was scared only for Quatre. Trowa was dreadfully confused. He thought Quatre was dead.   
  
//I'm here!// Quatre called out, but Trowa couldn't feel him. He was flailing. Too much! Quatre had no defense but to shut him out and sobbed silently inside as he did it.  
  
...  
  
He drifted in and out of consciousness. At some point a woman leaned over him. She had a kind face and was wearing a white uniform. A nurse. She was trying to wake him, trying to explain that he was going to live, that he wasn't paralyzed, that the reason he was dead from the neck down was the cervical block they were using to control the pain and keep him still while the regen units restored his damaged tissue.   
  
_/Where's Trowa//_ he screamed silently at her. _/He needs me! I need him! I can't feel him anymore. Where is he//_  
  
"You're all right, Mr. Winner. Try to calm down now. Your readings are climbing."  
  
_// Fuck you, bitch! Where's my Trowa? Let me go! Trowa! //_  
  
...  
  
More darkness, more fear, and then Heero was there with news of Trowa and suddenly Quatre knew things would be all right. Heero was filled with sorrow and guilt; he thought what had happened was his fault. But that was all muted and buffered by the deep love he felt for Quatre. Quatre opened himself to that healing warmth and felt his mind go still and clear. Heero was here, telling him Trowa was safe and close by. //Heero loves him, too! So much!// Heero would keep them safe.   
  
And Quatre could communicate with him; Heero immediately recognized his simple yes/no signaling. It was like being let out of prison, to know that Heero understood him.   
  
Soothed by Heero's voice and gentle touch, Quatre let himself sink again, and dreamed of playing chess with Heero when they were hiding out in Sanque during the war.   
  
When he came to this time Trowa was there with all the others, and they were deluging him with fear and love and relief. Most of the fear came from Trowa, still confused and frantic, but that quickly subsided. Heero was giving orders, and Duo, and Wufei . . . they were all there, his friends. His dear, dear friends. And Trowa, his beloved. Quatre could have cried, but his eyes felt as parched as his throat . . .  
  
...  
  
Heero was gone, but Trowa lay close beside him, calm now, and sending him nothing but love. His hoarse whispers were a soft, soothing, continuous balm: "Meli? Meli, I love you. You're safe. Be well, liebchin. Get better, my love, my heart, my own, my soul. We'll be on stage together soon, making love for the crowd. You'll be well soon, I promise, mon petit papillion. I love you so . . ."  
  
Quatre floated happily in the embrace of his husband's love, finally surrendering to the machines and the drugs, letting go of everything but his connection to this strong, troubled, wonderful, complicated man. No one had ever loved him like Trowa.   
  
The room grew dark as evening fell. The breathing tube didn't hurt so much. He concentrated instead on the feeling Trowa's fingers stroking his hair and his face. His lover's presence eclipsed everything else and he fell into real sleep this time.  
  
...  
  
Only to be woken in darkness by a stab of grief so keen he tried to curl up to escape it, but he still couldn't move. He tried frantically to cry out, call for Trowa, but the damn tube reduced it to choking rasp.  
  
Trowa lurched up on the bed that had been pushed up next to Quatre's. "What is it, Kat? Are you in pain?"  
  
Quatre blinked no, because it wasn't really physical pain and it had already passed, but Trowa was already calling for the nurse.  
  
White uniformed personnel rushed in. Quatre fought against the tube and mask, trying to tell them . . .  
  
Somehow Trowa made them understand.   
  
Quatre gagged hard as they pulled the trachea tube out, then wheezed, "Heero! Where's Heero?"  
  
+  
  
Wufei woke still wrapped in Zechs's embrace and scent and warmth. The candles had gone out and the room was dark except for a light left on in the bathroom. Most of Wufei's body felt absolutely wonderful, but his belly was covered with the familiar sticky itch of dried semen and his ass hurt like hell and something wet was seeping out from . . .  
  
He slipped from Zechs's arms and hobbled into the bathroom, blood-tinged semen trickling uncomfortably down his thighs. Mingled with the burning pain deep inside, it was not a pleasant sensation. Good god, it felt like someone had tried to split him in half!   
  
He sat shivering on the toilet for a while as his very confused lower intestine tried to figure out what it wanted to do about all this. Then he cranked on the shower to a very hot setting and stood with his hands braced against the back of the stall, ass in the spray, letting it wash away the mess and some of the discomfort.  
  
This disagreeable aftermath was hard to square with the incredible pleasure that had put him here. He reached back gingerly and touched himself, then let out a pained hiss between clenched teeth; definitely some tearing and stretching. How the hell did Quatre manage it, he wondered, then blushed as a highly detailed mental image of 03 and 04 presented itself.  
  
No, he wasn't going there.   
  
Instead, he found himself reconsidering the catalog the little blond had given him, the one he'd hidden deep in his suitcase; perhaps he was going to have to place an order, after all? Or maybe even go back to Quatre for more advice when they both felt better? He still shuddered at the prospect, but not quite so much as he might have a few months ago. Zechs was right. He had changed.   
  
And he wasn't sorry.  
  
The shower door slid back. Zechs gave him an understanding look as he stepped in under the spray and took him in his arms. "Are you very sore, little love?"  
  
Wufei hugged him back and nodded sheepishly. Zechs cupped Wufei's buttocks gently in his hands. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so rough with you the first time."  
  
"No, it's all right!" Wufei assured him, resting his head against Zechs's shoulder. "It felt wonderful at the time, really! And I want to do it again _// I think! //,_ but maybe--well, maybe not right away?"  
  
Zechs chuckled and kissed his forehead. "No, not right away."  
  
"Thank you, Zechs. I'm sorry I fell apart like that."  
  
Zechs kissed him again. "You were strong when you needed to be, for yourself and your friends. Remember what I told you, back when we first became lovers? I will never stand in your way when you need to act, but I will always be there to shelter you when you need to let go. Always, mei." He put a finger under Wufei's chin and lifted his lips for a deeper kiss. Wufei opened his mouth willingly to that questing tongue.   
  
In spite of everything--the friends lying in hospital, the ones grieving next door, his own discomfort--his body was still needy. They were both erect now, and Zechs moved against him, brushing Wufei's cock with his own. Wufei gasped as pleasure rushed through him. Zechs was still cupping his bottom and used his advantage to move Wufei against him. They were slow dancing now, bodies pressed together, in a lazy bout of frottage. Zechs hadn't touched his cock much when they'd made love before; it was supersensitive now.   
  
"Oh mei, you do have the most delectable bottom!" Zechs murmured, eyes half closed as he moved against him. "So tight. So firm!" His fingers kneaded the muscles of Wufei's ass.   
  
He hurt inside, but somehow that pain was translating to rapidly cresting pleasure elsewhere. "Only you!" he whispered, writhing against his tall lover. "Only you can touch me like that. No one else, not ever!"  
  
"And that makes it all the sweeter, little blossom!"  
  
_// Only you can call me things like that and live, Zechs Merquise! //_ Wufei thought, but he was too busy moaning toward climax to complain, or admit to himself that deep down, he loved it that Zechs called him such names.   
  
They came together, moaning into each other's mouths as hot semen spurted up between their bellies. Zechs kissed him one last time, then turned a limp and unresisting Wufei to face the spray again and lovingly washed him clean. He was a little wobbly as Zechs helped him out onto the bath mat.  
  
"How are you now?" Zechs asked, looking down at him fondly as he toweled Wufei dry.   
  
"Better," Wufei said, and they both knew he wasn't referring to the state of his backside, which still hurt quite a lot. "Hungry."  
  
It wasn't quite ten pm, and they'd both slept enough for now. They found their discarded jeans and shirts and pulled them on.   
  
"Should we ask them over to have some supper?" Zechs asked, nodding at the door connecting their suites.   
  
Wufei went over and listened. There were no sounds of voices or the television. Maxwell, at least, must be asleep, he thought, smiling. Duo couldn't stand silence. Chances were that they were either asleep, or otherwise engaged in the bedroom. Either way, he wouldn't disturb them.  
  
The steaks Zechs had ordered for them had just arrived when Wufei's cell rang. The number was a local one, a hospital extension. "Hello?"  
  
"Wufei! Where are Duo and Heero? I can't get either of them to answer their cells or the hotel phone!" There was no mistaking the tightly reined panic in Trowa's hoarse voice. "Kat thinks something's wrong."  
  
Still clutching the phone to his ear, Wufei dashed to the connecting door and tried it. It was unlocked. The lights were on in the sitting room next door, but there was no sign of their friends anywhere. The bed was untouched. "Damn it! They not here!"  
  
He heard Trowa's groan.  
  
Zechs stepped out into the hall and returned a moment later with the two men who'd been on guard. "What do you mean, they went out? When?" he barked, every inch the officer now, regardless of his worn jeans and bare feet.  
  
"Soon after you all arrived, sir!" one of the men replied.   
  
"And you didn't think to mention it?"  
  
"Not at first, sir. They said they were only going downstairs to the shops . . ."  
  
"Which closed over an _hour_ ago?"  
  
The guards exchanged an uncomfortable look. "I know, sir, but you and Mr. Chang . . . well, we didn't think it would be appropriate to interrupt you, sir."  
  
Zechs colored angrily. "We will clarify ground rules later. Right now I want to know where they went and when!"  
  
"Should we inform the police and Preventers, sir?"  
  
Wufei looked at Zechs and shook his head.   
  
"No, not yet. Handle it quietly," Zechs told the men. They saluted and hurried out.  
  
"Wufei? What's going on? Are they there or not?" Trowa demanded, still on the phone.  
  
"We don't know what's going on yet, 03, but it looks like they're not here," Wufei told him.   
  
"Fuck! Heero's laptop is gone, right?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
"Then he's not coming back. I'll try to reach him online. You check the house. There's an arms locker under our bed."  
  
"Why am I not surprised?"  
  
Trowa ignored the comment. He sounded very tired, but lucid. "There were two collapsible assault rifles in briefcases, unregistered handguns, ammo, some concussion grenades, surveillance gear, some C-9 . . ."  
  
"Good god, 03! That's all contraband!"  
  
"Old habits die hard," Trowa replied grimly.   
  
"If the bomb had been upstairs . . ."  
  
"Don't remind me. And there's a strong box with cash and some fake IDs."  
  
"And they knew about this cache?"  
  
"Of course they knew. Please, go look for them? I don't know what this is doing to Heero's mental state, but Duo will go along with whatever he wants."  
  
"Copy that, 03. How's Quatre?"  
  
There was a pause. "He's-uh, he's a little upset with me. He never liked having all that shit in the house. Please go look and call me right back on this phone. I don't have a cell right now."  
  
"I'll see that you get one. Concentrate on getting him well, and you. We'll handle this."  
  
"Thanks, Wufei. Call as soon as you know anything."  
  
+  
  
Less than half an hour later Wufei and Zechs were standing in the cold bedroom of Trowa's house, looking down at the empty cache hole. Duo and Heero had cleaned it out, taken everything, including the explosives. Being caught with almost any item on the list Trowa had given them could land the pair of them in jail for illegal possession. The combined arsenal? Wufei shook his head. If they were caught, not even Relena could save them. What the hell had set them off like this? Heero had seemed sane enough when they'd parted at the hotel, and Duo had been doing great these past months.  
  
Wufei wasn't familiar enough with the house to know what else might have been taken, but in the side bedroom they found dresser drawers half open, as if someone had packed in a hurry. On top of the dresser, Wufei noticed a manila envelop propped up against the mirror. Letters cut from a newspaper or magazine spelled out _"TO HeeRO yUy wITh lOVe."_ Using a sock from the drawer in lieu of an evidence glove, he shook out the contents, a folded note in Heero's unmistakable hand.  
  
_Mission accepted. 05, don't follow. This isn't your fight._  
  
Wufei stared down at it, feeling irrationally hurt, and guilty as hell. "If I hadn't gone to pieces. If you and I hadn't . . .  
  
Zechs put an arm around him as he read the note. "Don't, Wufei. This was their choice. Short of sitting on them, you couldn't have stopped them, if this is what they've chosen. 'Mission accepted.' You know what that means."  
  
"We have to find them. We have to talk some sense into them!"  
  
Zechs pulled out his cell phone and started dialing. "They have at least a three hour lead. First we have to find them."  
  
+  
  
Duo set the rented Lear jet's auto pilot system for Tokyo. He'd make the final trajectory changes during the approach. It had been risky, doing the rental with the hastily altered fake ID's they'd lifted from Tro's stash, but their only alternative had been trying to "borrow" Zechsy's shuttle and that was under guard.   
  
He sat back, pulled his braid from its hiding place under his leather jacket, and glanced over at Heero, who'd fallen asleep in the co pilot's chair soon after take off. Poor guy, he was totally exhausted. And so was Duo.  
  
The small passenger jet wasn't lavishly furnished, but there was a bed in the back, beyond the seats. Duo shook Heero gently by the arm. "Come on, baby. Come take a nap in the back."  
  
Heero came to long enough for Duo to get him back to the bed and stretch out beside him. Heero, who hadn't fully woken up anyway, curled up against him, head on Duo's shoulder, and fell asleep again.  
  
Lying there, stroking Heero's hair, Duo admitted that there _had_ been some other alternatives. He'd even suggested that while they were packing to bug out, but Heero had been adamant. It was like dealing with the wartime 01 again; he was about as persuadable as stone wall; no one else was to be involved in this. Not the police. Not the Preventers. Do that and everything would come out: the rape, the photos, everything. Trowa and Kat were down for the count and out of the picture. Heero didn't want Wufei dragged into this, either.   
  
"It's my mess, my fight!" he'd whispered as they'd packed up the weapons and electronics from under Tro's bed. Quite the little packrat, their 03! "Wufei has finally found someone to make him happy. And if he comes, Zechs will want to, as well, and I don't need a bunch of his security guards bumbling around, attracting attention. Besides, 05 hasn't been all that stable lately."  
  
//And I have?// Duo thought, but kept that to himself. He suspected that Heero would have preferred to take on this mission solo, like he always had, but he'd promised Duo he'd never take off without him again, back in Madrid, and he was keeping his word now.   
  
As for Duo, he was seriously looking forward to meeting the bastards who'd put a hurt on his lover and friends. He had a message of his own to deliver, from the barrel of a gun.  
  
+  
  
Lulled by the hum of the Lear's engines and Duo's nervous, toneless humming, Heero willed himself to sleep, counting backwards like he used to during the war.   
  
Dr. Batoosingh had used the same method with him, trying to tap into his lost memories, and taught Heero the basics of lucid dreaming. He'd been using both techniques for weeks now, along with his art, to try and piece together what had happened to him in Japan. He still had no idea how he'd gotten into the country, or where he'd gone. He knew only from the photos and threats that he'd been in Kisarazu, and his suicide note placed him in Kyoto at some point. He'd tried to use those locales as focus points. He hadn't had much success, though, apart from a few scraps here and there, mostly of the rape. Even in his fugue state, the pain and violence of that must have broken through to his conscious mind and left scars.  
  
It had been almost impossible at first, letting the memory of that come back. Even now, months and miles from the event, strong and healthy again, he cringed inwardly as he made himself summon up what little he had: smells, tactile sensations-those were the hardest-a few visual memories, but those were confused with the photos now to the point that he wasn't certain what he'd been shown and what he actually recalled.   
  
Drifting, dozing, still half aware of the engine noise, he pictured the postcard shown on the vid, the Kisarazu skyline. It meant nothing to his conscious mind, and since it was precolony vintage, chances were it didn't look the same anymore, but as he sank deeper he seemed to fall into the picture and as he began to dream, he found himself walking through the streets of a bombed out district, a slum. He was hungry, and he was clutching something to his chest, afraid that it would be taken from him. He couldn't tell what it was, or see it in the dream, but whatever it was, it was precious to him. It was almost dark, late evening perhaps, but there was a light ahead of him, something colorful flashing. A sign, neon. Five flowers in different colors that came on one at a time to form a bouquet, only the fourth one didn't light up, leaving a dark space in the arrangement. The sight of it made him feel sick and scared. Five flowers. Five . . .  
  
He felt like he was on the verge of understanding something when Duo woke him and made him move to the bed at the back of the plane. Groggy and frustrated, he settled down and surrendered to sleep again, hoping to recapture whatever it had been that his subconscious was trying to reveal.  
  
_Kisarazu._  
  
A slum.  
  
Five neon flowers.   
  
But he was too tired or too scared and this time he slept without dreams.


	78. Mission Mode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

It was a sixteen-hour flight from New Orleans to Tokyo. Heero slept like the dead for the first eight hours, which was really odd for him before a mission. They'd hardly done any planning, and Heero was usually the one who could go without sleep for days in the field. Duo got in a few hours rest, then sat watching his lover for a while, trying to interpret the subtle play of emotions on his face as he dreamed whatever he was dreaming. They didn't look like happy ones. He muttered in his sleep, too, and Duo caught bits of what sounded like Japanese. He didn't speak any himself, and it was frustrating not to be able to know what he was saying.   
  
Giving up, he kissed him on the forehead, then went back to the cockpit and opened up Heero's laptop to look for information on their destination.   
  
Kisarazu was an old industrial port located on the eastern shore of Tokyo Bay, and was connected to Kawasaki City by a long raised highway called the Aqualine that spanned a narrow point in the bay. There had been all sorts of heavy industry there, including steel mills, and a huge thermal power plant. There was also some big science institute called the Kisusa Akademia Center. That probably explained why the Alliance had located a suit factory there. Duo found pictures and maps, as well as archived news reports of Heero's raid on the factory early in the war. There were even photos of Wing smashing through towers and hangars.   
  
From what Duo could tell from public records, it had been a decent surgical strike overall, limited entirely to the confines of the base. Only bad intelligence had screwed that pooch and civilians had died. It was a damn shame, of course, but what the hell had the Alliance planners been thinking, putting personnel housing in a place like that?   
  
He took out the list of enemy gathering places Zechs had given Heero and checked them against a city map, pinpointing locations. There were just two names, and he found they were within a few blocks of each other in a neighborhood near the wharves. The third item was a person, rather than a place. Raphael Conte; the S.K.U.M. filmmaker. Duo did a search and found the address of his studio in Tokyo, and a website. Turned out he was based there because of the more lenient laws on the production of hardcore porn.   
  
Zechs hadn't let them watch any of the vids, but the website featured plenty of stills and video clip samples. Duo looked back at Heero, making sure he was still asleep, then jacked in a pair of earphones and began wading through the filth.   
  
It was sick stuff, nothing Duo would ever have gone near on his own. Worse yet, the actors looked way too much like the pilots they were portraying. The kid playing Duo could have been a brother. He wondered if the guy's long hair was real or a wig.   
  
There were all kinds of still shots of him being beaten up and abused. In some he was defiant, in others he was crying and begging. Duo gritted his teeth. He'd cried sometimes, but he'd never fucking begged! Sickened as he was, Duo could not resist clicking on a link to vid clips featuring his character. They were about what he'd expected: lots of mouth fucking and penetration shots, along with really nasty stuff like guys pissing or coming in his face. That hadn't happened, either. Queasy and furious, he watched just a moment or two of each, then clicked to the next. But the sixth one brought him up short. In it, four big goons in OZ uniforms had "Duo" pinned face down on a table wearing nothing but his black shirt. A fifth guy was whaling on him with a belt. And his hair was loose. And his arms were in manacles.   
  
Duo barely made it back to the head in time, and then he was retching miserably into the stainless steel crapper, praying the blue water didn't splash back up in his face. He'd done a good job of forgetting that night in custody on the moon base but it all came back now: the way the drunken Ozzys had pawed him, beaten him, and then-- the rape. Trowa had saved him that night, but not before they'd left deep scars on Duo's soul, and a few on his body, too. A few faint pale lines still showed on his ass and left hip where the belt had cut into his skin.   
  
He hung on the edge of the bowl, fighting back tears, wanting the memories to stop. When they'd thrown him back in the cell with Heero and Wufei, he'd wanted so bad just to curl up in Heero's arms, the way he had in Finland, but it hadn't been possible. Not in front of Wufei. Not with the OZ bastards probably watching them through the view port. Heero had sat close to him the rest of the night, but it hadn't been enough. He'd wanted to die.   
  
It all came back on him now as he crouched shivering over the toilet. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to bury it. Sliding down the wall in the confined space between toilet and sink, he wrapped his arms around his knees and clutched his braid hard, twisting it in his hands.   
  
He didn't know how long he'd been there when the door slid open and Heero leaned down to help him up. Duo let Heero lead him back to the bed. The laptop was there, and the opening shot of the damn clip was paused on the screen. Fuck. He'd forgotten to clear it and Heero, being Heero, had figured out what he was up to in no time flat.  
  
Heero didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions. He just cleared the screen, then gathered Duo into his arms the way Duo had longed for that long ago night. He rocked him as Duo wept and stroked his hair and rubbed his back. Duo suddenly flashed on how Heero had looked that night and wondered if this was what he'd really wanted to do, but couldn't. Heero hadn't known how, back then. But he sure did now and Duo calmed quickly under that loving touch. Heero had changed so much, but then he guessed they all had. He'd loved that Heero back then, but he liked this one even better.  
  
"I knew they hurt you worse than you said," Heero said at last. His voice was rough with sorrow and anger, but he was still stroking his hair so gently. "I wish I could have killed them!"  
  
"Wish I coulda helped you." Duo sighed. "This Conte guy? He really did some research, didn't he? I wonder what he's got on the rest of you?"  
  
"I've looked. Some of the settings regarding me are accurate, but the events are pure fabrication. I was never raped or tortured during the war. But there are some post war scenes . . . I think he either knows what happened to me, or his mind just works the same way. But to my knowledge, none of the rest of us was ever abused as badly as you were during the war. Of course, you got captured more than anyone else."  
  
"Still rubbing that in, aren't you?" But Duo wasn't pissed. It was true. Feeling safe now in his lover's strong arms, he snuggled closer. "You saved my ass a lot of times though, didn't you, babe? My knight in spandex armor."  
  
"But other times I didn't." Heero's arms tightened almost painfully around him. "All those times when I wanted . . . But those days are gone, Duo, I promise you." He pulled back, holding him by the shoulders, an almost desperate look in his eyes. "No mission will ever get in the way of taking care of you, helping you. I promise you that! Nothing in the world is more important to me than you. Nothing. No one!"  
  
"Baby, you're shaking," Duo said softly, cradling Heero's face between his hands. Heero didn't look right all of a sudden. There was look in his eyes that Duo had never seen before. It was like fear, but with something else, something wild and scary.  
  
"You shouldn't be here, Duo!"  
  
"What're you talking about, 'ro? I'm your wingman, remember?"  
  
"My wingman . . ."  
  
"You all right, baby?" Duo asked, concerned. Heero seemed confused.  
  
The look disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Heero pulled free and sat back, looking at him oddly. "I'm fine. You just had some bad luck, that's all."   
  
"Huh?" Had they skipped a groove somewhere?  
  
"And more guts than sense," Heero added, giving him a fond smile.   
  
Still puzzled and a little unsettled, Duo shook his head. "That may still be true. What the fuck are we doing, Heero? We're walking blind into a situation we know almost nothing about, with all that!" He jerked a thumb at the bulging duffle of contraband weapons they'd liberated from Tro's secret stash. "This whole adventure could end real quick at Japanese customs."  
  
"I've been thinking about that." Heero was all mission now. "We'll stash it here, and reconnoiter."  
  
"I've scoped out those two bars online. I say we start there, unless you have a better idea?"  
  
"No, that's good. We'll save Conte for later."  
  
"Undercover or full frontal?"  
  
"We don't know how many we're up against, so undercover first."  
  
"Which bar you want to start with?" Duo picked up the laptop to call up the map he found. "We've got the Black Horse and the Samurai. A message prompt blinking up in the corner of the screen caught his eye. "You got mail, Heero."  
  
"Hn." Heero keyed in the password and opened the email. Duo leaned in and read over his shoulder.  
  
  
To: Wing@privatesky.net  
cc: ShinigamiFlyboy@privatesky.net  
  
From: GreenEyz@privatesky.net  
  
What the FUCK are you doing??? Sandrock freaking out! Get your asses back here! Preventers already involved! Risk too great, with toybox! Copy now!!!!  
  
  
Duo shook his head. "Wow, it's not like Tro to yell. I think he's pissed about us borrowing his stuff."  
  
"He's scared for us, and angry at being left behind." Heero's fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. Then he hit "delete."  
  
+  
  
Zechs sat on the edge of their unmade hotel bed, watching morosely as Wufei buckled the belt of his Preventers uniform and pulled his hair back into that tight ponytail. Sally was waiting for him out in the living room. Zechs had made up his mind to put up a good front for Wufei's sake and so far he'd managed. "Under different circumstances, it might be sexy to see you like this again," he said, trying to cover his own pain.   
  
Wufei wasn't fooled for a moment, of course, He came over and knelt between his knees, looking up at him sadly. "I'm really sorry about this, Zechs," he said for at least the tenth time in the past two hours. "I can only imagine how hard it is for you, staying behind. But you know--"  
  
"Yes, it's for the best. I'd be a liability," Zechs finished for him, not able to mask his bitterness. But it was the truth, and they both knew it. He kissed Wufei and pulled him close, winding his fingers in that silky black switch of hair. "I meant what I told you when we became lovers, Wufei. You do what you have to do; I'll be here when you get back. I just--well, I don't suppose I thought you'd take me up on it quite so soon."  
  
Wufei hugged him hard. "I'll make it up to you, I promise!"  
  
Zechs chuckled in spite of himself. "Really? And how do you mean to do that?"  
  
Wufei sat back on his heels, hands resting on Zechs's thighs. He was blushing, and the sudden shyness in his dark eyes was at odds with the uniform and gun. It really was an erotic contrast, Zechs couldn't help noting despite the situation. "It's been a while since--since I've worn something--special for you." He swallowed hard as he went a shade darker pink. "In the bedroom?"  
  
Zechs caught his breath, his concern and frustration momentarily swept aside as he realized what Wufei was saying. The memory of his tough, lovely little warrior in stockings and satin gloves still gave him an instant hard on. This time was no different, especially when Wufei leaned up and kissed him deeply, then whispered, "Anything you want--my emperor.*" The boy's cheeks went from pink to scarlet; he'd never said anything like that before, never called him anything but 'Zechs', even in bed. It was all Zechs could do not to rip that ugly uniform off him and ravish him right there on the floor.   
  
Instead, he stood up, pulling Wufei to his feet with him, and straightened his tie for him. "I'll give your proposal serious thought. In the meantime, you stay sharp out there, agent. Keep in contact and come back to me in one piece. That's an order, 05."  
  
"I'd better. I haven't driven that Porsche you gave me for my birthday yet, have I? You keep me updated on Trowa and Quatre." The shy blossom boy was gone; Wufei was all mission now. "Watch Trowa. I wouldn't put it past him to do something stupid, too. He's worse than Yuy and Maxwell put together at times, when it comes to a mission. I'm a worried about him. I've never seen him like he's been since the explosion."  
  
"He nearly lost Quatre in that blast. In his place, I'd be hysterical, too, even without the concussion. But he's in no shape to go anywhere. "  
  
"That won't stop him, if he makes up his mind."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind. I'll have him sedated, if necessary."  
  
Wufei managed a wan smile at that, even though Zechs hadn't been joking. "Well, I better go."  
  
They walked out together to meet Sally, who was speaking with several other field agents and the head of Zechs's security.  
  
She smiled as she tossed Wufei his badge. He checked the number and saw it was the same as the one he'd had before.  
  
"Une's had you on inactive status," Sally told him. "The paperwork for your resignation keeps getting 'lost'."   
  
"Stubborn bitch," Zechs muttered. Inactive status meant that technically, a retired agent could be called back in whether he wanted to or not.  
  
She handed Wufei a padded envelope. "Here are the rest of the things you requested. I don't know what you two said to her, but it worked."  
  
Zechs smiled. "I'm not one to overlook an advantage. "  
  
There was no putting it off any longer. It was time for them to go. With all the other people in the room, many of them strangers, Zechs limited himself to a last nod to Wufei as he headed to the door with Sally. The warmth in Wufei's dark eyes as he returned it was a good as a kiss, but Zechs already felt the distance between them, even before the door closed after him.  
  
_//Be careful, mei, my love. Come home safe.//_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who've forgotten, the "emperor" line, along with all Zechs's "blossom" talk, stems back to Ch. 57 when Zechs quoted pre-colony Chinese homoerotic poetry, written by an ancient Chinese emperor to his boy lover, to show (and seduce) Wufei that such things were indeed part of his culture. The poems are real, btw. In another poem from this period, beautiful boy lovers of the emperors are compared to "peach and plum blossoms". For poor confused, innocent, repressed Wufei, such things were shocking eye openers, but also deeply meaningful in coming to terms with his own true sexuality. And they turned him on no end, of course.
> 
> Wufei is, in sexual terms, a submissive, as well as repressed. That doesn't mean that he's a wimp in everyday life, obviously, or that he needs to be tied up or spanked to get off. (That would be Duo, and that's a *whole* different kettle of fish.) It just turns him on to be with someone who takes control sexually; Zechs is a very loving, refined, and elegant top, Wufei's perfect match.  
> Being pushed to his limits and beyond, as in the China Doll chapter, is both educational and exciting, but it's also strictly bedroom play. In daily life, things like Zechs choosing his wardrobe are more subtle manifestations of this. The real thrill isn't what he wears, but the trust needed in giving up control. For someone as tightly wrapped as Wufei, that's a big deal. But he doesn't need to wear women's lingerie under his clothes or anything.
> 
> Beyond all that, he and Zechs are also deeply in love, each having found both a soulmate and a perfect sexual partner in the other. Don't look for any "Now it's your turn on top, Wufei" scenes. Ain't gonna happen.
> 
> Can you tell I really get into this pairing? Actually, they're all great fun, because they are all so different, given the personalities involved.


	79. Kisarazu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo had to wonder how much imagination it took to name a Japanese bar "The Samurai". Anywhere else in the world, it would have been a pricey sushi bar with that name. The intelligence Zechs had gotten from his pal Masa was solid, though. Here in down-and-out Kisarazu, it was a flyspecked working man's bar with grimy neon beer signs in the grimier front window, and a rundown interior that could have been any place Earthside or on L-2 where hope had run out. It was also just five blocks from the bombed out ruins of the base Heero had hit. The husbands and brothers and lovers of those who'd died had probably come to this bar. Perhaps they still did.   
  
It was already after sundown when they set off on their initial recon. Heero had on his blond wig. Duo made do with his hat and his old surplus coat. His braid was hidden down the back, and he tucked his bangs up out of sight, too, and put on a pair of cheap tinted glasses he bought from a street vendor.   
  
The lowlifes were already coming out to play and the streets were busy. It reminded Duo a lot of home. Old drunks sat on the curbs with their bottles in paper bags. Smoke hounds giggled on the stoops. Gangs of young bloods barged through the streets, knocking people off the sidewalk and into walls, just for laughs, and hooked up with gangs of girls with too much make up and not enough clothes. Hookers of both genders were plying their trade. No one seemed to pay much attention to the two strangers. They were dressed like punks, too. But Duo knew slums, and knew that they'd already been marked as strangers, interlopers on someone's turf. He didn't mark anyone, but guessed a tough or two looking for a quick roll or knockdown were probably following them.   
  
He'd agreed to leave most of the heavy armaments behind in the smuggler's hole, but he and Heero were both armed well enough to handle these jokers. Duo had a Glock digging in the small of his back, curved razors glued under both thumbnails and a spring knife up the right sleeve of his coat. Heero had his Sig and a boot knife big enough to gut a horse.  
  
They made it to the Samurai without any trouble. There were half a dozen rough looking types at the bar, slouched over beer and sake. A few couples were pawing or fighting in the greasy booths along the back wall. Two big guys were playing a game of darts at the back and as Duo's eyes adjusted to the harsh light, he saw that a big magazine photograph was pinned to the center of the dartboard. It was a shot of the five Gundam boys taken right after the Libra incident. They were all in their old combat clothes, looking young and varying degrees of grim or goofy, depending on who you looked at. Duo was the goofiest; he'd had the act on real good that day, not letting anyone know just how much he'd still been reeling from those long moments when it had seemed certain Heero was going down under the Libra. About the time he'd started to get over that, Heero had calmly informed him that he was heading off to be Relena's guard dog, along with Wuffie. Duo shook off the thought; that had been a whole other load of heartache.  
  
Heero was the grimmest, as usual, though Duo could now appreciate the pain he'd been in that day. He was already way over the edge and not letting anyone know it. His face, or what was left of it after many dart games, had been placed in the bull's-eye position on the board.   
  
They sat down at the end of the bar furthest from the game and took note of another charming bit of designer flare. A wide selection of Gundam S.K.U.M. vids was lined up for sale along the back shelf under the bottle racks. Duo had noticed some for sale in shop windows along the way, too, along with lots of other porno. Very popular items, apparently, in this part of town.  
  
Heero was on alert beside him and that made Duo feel a little better. That strange blank out or flashback or whatever the hell it had been on the plane had scared him. He promised himself that if he saw the least sign of a repeat performance, he was calling an abort and getting Heero out of here. But he was chilly now, all business. He growled something at the bartender in Japanese and the guy cracked a grin as he slid them a couple of longnecks. Heero must have asked about the vids. The bartender took one down and handed it to him. Heero looked it over and handed it back, then asked something else. The bartender shrugged and said something else. Heero asked another question, and Duo caught the name Hideki Koudo; it was the name Meir had given them in Berlin. The bartender shrugged. Duo was going nuts, not being able to understand. The bartender had another customer and moved on. Duo nudged Heero and they moved to a booth.  
  
"So?" he whispered.  
  
"I said it looked like the Gundam boys aren't very popular around here. He said the vids were a pretty good example of what most of the men in this bar would like to see happen to them."  
  
Duo took a long sip of beer, trying not to think about those clips he'd watched.  
  
"Then I asked if anyone in particular had a grudge. He said 'take your pick.' This was an Alliance town."  
  
"And you asked about that guy Meir told us about, Koudo?"  
  
"Yes. He claimed he'd never heard of him, of course, but I didn't believe him."  
  
"Recognize anyone?"  
  
Heero's eyes swept the bar again. "No, but I might not. I still don't remember any faces."   
  
Duo looked around, seeking a glimpse the tattoos they'd seen in some of the photos. No luck. He wasn't feeling too good about this mission so far. Tro was the one who did undercover. He and Heero had always been frontal assault guys. And now a couple of the guys at the bar were giving them looks over their shoulders.   
  
"Move on?" Duo said quietly.  
  
Heero downed the rest of his beer and nodded. Duo threw a tip on the table and they went out. He could feel eyes on his back but didn't let himself look. Once on the street, however, he quickly pulled Heero into the nearest dark doorway and waited to see if they were being followed. Sure enough, a moment later one of the guys who'd been at the bar walked past.   
  
"Shit," Duo muttered.  
  
"He could just be going somewhere else," Heero said softly.   
  
"Or we've been made."  
  
"Let's go find the other place, the Dark Horse."   
  
"Maybe this isn't such a good idea, 'ro."  
  
"I just want to see if I recognize it. We don't have to go in."  
  
Duo wanted to argue; that bad feeling was getting worse, but Heero was already heading down an alley to the next street.   
  
The neighborhood got worse from here. The few shops that were still open were mostly liquor stores, noodle houses, whorehouses, and smoke shops. A lot of the buildings were boarded up and had the look of squats. Kisarazu had seen better days, that was for fucking sure.  
  
A few streets over they came out at the waterfront. Most of the docks and wharves were still operational. Huge tanker ships were anchored there and night crews were busy unloading. Another street over and they came to a high chain link fence topped with razor wire. Beyond that there was a lot of open ground and dead grass.   
  
Heero paused on the cracked sidewalk, looking in. Duo could just make out a jumble of dark shapes in the distance, buildings or something.  
  
"That's the base," Heero murmured, and Duo knew him well enough to hear the sadness and guilt in his voice.   
  
"Oh."  
  
"I remember this. I remember standing here."   
  
"When? During the war or later?"  
  
"Later." He'd had his hands in his jacket pockets, but now he had his arms crossed on his chest, almost as if he was holding something. "When I was sick."  
  
Duo waited, hoping something else would drop into place for him. Without a word, Heero moved on.   
  
They walked for a long time, with Heero in the lead. It seemed to Duo that it wasn't just aimless wandering, either. "Where are we going, Heero?"  
  
"I'm not sure. It just seems familiar all of a sudden."  
  
Duo stayed close and kept his eyes open for trouble, but he was also aware of a growing tension in his lover. Heero was walking faster now, as if he had somewhere to be.   
  
He led Duo up and down a succession of dark, dodgy looking streets, back into the slums behind the docks. He didn't say a word but Duo had the sense that he was definitely looking for something.  
  
They hit another pocket of relative prosperity. There were a few more streetlights here, and more shops open. People who didn't look like criminals were on the street, and eating in the shops. There was a mission, too, a place called Sisters of Mercy Hostel, according to the English part of the sign. Various down and out types were going in and out. Heero paused, gazing up at the blue neon cross above the door.   
  
"I bet you went in there," Duo said.   
  
"Maybe. I don't really remember--" Heero has hugging his chest harder now. "Except the sign."  
  
"What did you have with you?" Duo asked gently.  
  
Heero looked down at himself and shoved his hands back in his pockets. "I don't remember."  
  
Duo nodded at the mission. "Do you want to go in here, talk to someone?"  
  
They climbed the steps and pushed through the smudged glass doors. A big open room lay beyond. Duo wrinkled his nose as memories stirred. He knew this sad smell; it was the same as any soup kitchen or rescue mission he'd been in as a child; disinfectant, cheap food, unwashed bodies, booze and hopelessness.  
  
A soup kitchen was open on one side of the hall, and ragged men and women were lined up with plastic bowls and trays. Others sat eating at long cheap tables covered in stained brown paper. Women in blue and white nun's habits were busy attending to them.   
  
There was a medical station on the other side of the room and a nurse and doctor were looking after more people lined up.   
  
A nun with a round, lined face came over and greeted them in Japanese. She didn't look Asian, so Duo asked, "Do you speak English?" before Heero could answer her.  
  
"Yes I do," she replied, giving him a warm smile. "I'm Sister Mary Agnes. What can I do for you boys? We have hot soup and bread, and there are beds in the back, and showers."  
  
"Do you know this person?" Heero asked. He pulled out a photo Quatre had taken of him in Madrid, while he was still sick.  
  
The sister took it and looked closely at it. "Oh yes. He was in a few times about a year ago, I think. Never said a word, or stayed the night with us. He'd eat, then work on his scrapbook for a while, then disappear again."  
  
"Scrapbook. Did you see what he had in it?" Heero asked.  
  
"No, he'd never let anyone see. One of our other guests tried to peek once and he attacked him. I think that was the last time we saw him, actually."  
  
"Did he ever hang out with anyone?" asked Duo. "Did you ever see him in the street with anyone?"  
  
The sister thought a moment. "Well, Mr. Hato tried to talk to him several times."  
  
"Hato?" asked Heero.  
  
"Yes, Heidiki Hato. He's a local philanthropist of sorts. He comes in when he needs someone for odd jobs, or knows of other work. I remember he tried hard to recruit this boy, but he wouldn't have anything to do with him. Mentally ill, I think, like so many of our poor unfortunates. Oh, I do remember one other thing. Your friend had a prescription he wanted Dr. St. Pierre to fill."  
  
"Was it for Unadol?" asked Heero.  
  
"I don't know. I'll have to check our records."  
  
Heero looked at her expectantly. A little flustered, she went over to the medical station and spoke with the nurse. That woman consulted a file cabinet. Sister Mary came back and nodded. "Yes, it was for a three month supply of Unadol. But we couldn't help him. We didn't have any of that medication on hand."  
  
"What about this Mr. Hato?" asked Duo. "Does he live around here?"  
  
"I think he's over near the old academy, but I'm not sure. But the boys I've talked to say he's very generous."  
  
"Is it always boys?" asked Heero.   
  
"Why, yes. I think the jobs he has are quite physical."  
  
"Do you have an address or phone number for him?"  
  
"No. As I told you, he simply comes in when he needs someone."  
  
Heero gave her a slight nod. "Thank you, Sister. You've been very helpful."  
  
"Hold on," said Duo, not satisfied at all. "This boy we're looking for, do you remember anything else about him, anything in particular?"  
  
Sister Mary thought for a moment, then smiled again. "There was a little girl in here one night when he was here. She was crying. Her mother was drunk, not taking good care of her. This boy of yours sat with the little girl while her mother slept it off. He never said a word, but he drew pictures for her! She would name something and he would draw it for her. It cheered her up so much. And he was quite talented, too. The girl took most of them, but Sister Cecilia asked if she could keep one. It's over there on the notice board, if you'd like to see it."  
  
"Thank you, Sister." Heero walked over to the board and Duo followed.   
  
The drawing was done with ordinary pencil on a sheet of cheap lined paper. One look and Duo knew it was Heero's work. It was a picture of an angel, rather than a mermaid, but the face and long flowing hair were was unmistakably Duo's.  
  
Heero stared hard at it.  
  
"Do you remember anything?" Duo asked.  
  
Heero just shook his head and walked away to the door.  
  
Duo paused a moment, then went over to Sister Mary. "These boys that Hato came in for. Do you remember if they had a particular look in common, or anything like that?"  
  
"Well, they were usually younger, maybe a little younger than you. As I said, he needed strong ones for his chores. That's what he told me."  
  
"Yes, but did they look alike? Dark hair, blue eyes, short?"  
  
"Most of the boys we get in here fit that description. We are in Japan, after all. Why do you ask?"  
  
"I'd rather not say, Sister, but do me a favor, will you? If he shows up here again, don't let any more boys go with him, OK? Not until you know more about him?"  
  
The sister's eyes widened as she caught his drift. "Oh no! Oh, I'm certain you're wrong. Mr. Hato has been very generous to us, and those boys."  
  
Duo gave her a dark look. "That type always is. At first."  
  
+  
  
There was something about the mission sign and that drawing that stirred a feeling in Heero's belly. It wasn't a memory, really, just an impression. It wasn't a bad one, either. They'd tried to help him here, but he'd been too sick to respond.  
  
Back on the street again, he felt something else pull at him, drawing him off in a particular direction.  
  
"At least it's something, right?" Duo said, hurrying along beside him. "I mean, we know for sure you were here, so if you think you remember something, it's proably real, right?"  
  
"Hn." Heero felt a mix of hope and dread. He still wasn't sure he wanted to remember anything that had happened to him in this place. The pictures had been bad enough. But something still drove him on.  
  
"Are you OK, 'ro? Should we call it a night?" Duo sounded worried.  
  
Heero shook his head. There was something waiting for him here; he wasn't going to be able to stop until he found it, no matter how bad it was.  
  
The Dark Horse bar was only a couple of blocks away. It looked very much like the Samurai and he felt no desire to go in. He moved on, feeling increasingly odd. It was like some part of his mind knew where he was going, but he couldn't consciously connect with it. So he must move on. Every so often a particular detail-a sign or a street sign would jump out at him, like an image caught in a strobe light. He'd been here before. He'd known these streets. He'd had some destination among them, and it wasn't the mission.  
  
He began to notice smells more, too. He could smell the harbor, salt air and oil, dust and urine and rotting garbage, and the steamy aromas of the cheap restaurants they passed.  
  
He was aware of Duo striding along beside him, but somehow, he kept almost forgetting he was there, or why he was here with him. There were moments when he was surprised.  
  
"Heero? Baby? You OK?" Duo was worried.  
  
Heero realized he was clutching his arms to his chest again. He'd lost something, something important. Something it hurt to be without.  
  
The album. That battered cheap book of photos he'd clung to, all the time he was apart from his friends. He felt the loss of it now like an ache in his chest. He'd had it here, and he'd lost it here. It only made sense. How else would his secret enemies be sending him pieces of it? But how had he lost it, and when? The sister said he'd had it with him the last time she saw him.  
  
He rounded another corner in a darker part of town and froze in his tracks, staring at yet another neon sign across the street at the end of the block.  
  
Flowers.  
  
Five colored flowers.  
  
And one was broken. It wasn't lit. It left a gap in the display.   
  
A fragment of a memory broke through. _//Five. One broken. That was me. I always thought of us and thought that broken one was me.//_  
  
"Heero, you've got something, don't you?"  
  
Heero hardly heard the voice beside him. He hurried on for a closer look.   
  
It was just a diner. The Five Flowers Diner. It had already closed for the night but he could see someone moving around in the back. His feet took him past the door, under the glowing sign, to the alley beside it. At the far end, a dead end, a naked bulb over a back door illuminated a dumpster.  
  
He walked slowly toward it, knowing this was important; this was somewhere he'd known. Smells were strong here. The blowers from the kitchen jutted from the brick wall, black with grease. Scorched rice. Fish soup. Boiled seaweed. Garbage.   
  
He was so hungry.  
  
He was at the dumpster now, and without thinking, he raised the rusty metal cover and reached in.   
  
"Heero, what the hell are you doing?" someone asked.  
  
He panicked and dropped the lid. They knew his name! His cover was blown!   
  
Someone was behind him. No, there were five of them. They were strong, too strong . . .  
  
+  
  
"Of fuck!" Duo had watched in growing dismay as Heero made a beeline for the dumpster in an alley beside a restaurant. In the dim light he saw a change in his lover's face. The intent, mission look had given way to a frightening blankness. He looked like someone else, and it wasn't because of the wig, either. And he'd headed straight for the dumpster, and to Duo's horror, opened it and started fishing, like a starving man looking for food. Duo recalled the state Heero had been in in Madrid and his stomach did a slow roll. This is how his lover had lived, all those months he'd been lost. On mean streets like these, eating whatever he could scrounge.   
  
"Heero, you've got something, don't you?" he asked softly, hoping to snap him out of it," but the way Heero suddenly whirled around, and the wild, terrified look in his eyes told him that his friend had already gone seriously bye-bye on him.  
  
Duo held out his hands, not moving. "Heero, it's me. It's Duo, 01, your wingman?"  
  
But Heero just fell to his knees, clutching that unknown something to his heart and moaning now. He'd never heard Heero sound like this before. It was awful, and Duo had no idea how to bring him back. He was calling himself nine kinds of fool when he felt the cold muzzle of a gun press against the back of his neck.   
  
"Well, well, here you boys are at last. Didn't think it'd be this easy," a low, nasty voice with a distinctly British accent said. Heero didn't even look up.  
  
Duo triggered his spring knife and whirled around to fight. He had the impression of five or six big guys hemming them in, right before he saw the butt end gun coming at his face. He ducked it and got in a good slash. The guy who'd tried to pistol whip him fell back, holding his shoulder.   
  
He was going for the next closest one, the one with very familiar tattoo on the back of his hand, when someone hit him with a tazer.  
  
He went down hard, muscles and nerves screaming in agony. By the time his vision cleared they already had him pinned. Three guys were standing over Heero. The blond wig was off. He crouched on the ground at their feet. Duo had never seen him look beaten like that, not once.   
  
_//Except in those fucking photos!//_  
  
Duo struggled weakly, trying to regain control of his body. "01, get up! You're flashing. It's not real. Snap out of-" The guy with the tattoo on his hand back handed Duo hard. His jaw went numb and his mouth filled with blood. Some one pulled off his hat, yanked his braid out of his coat.  
  
"Told you this one would be with him. He's the sweetest piece of the five, huh?"  
  
One of the other men, the big Japanese one, had Heero by the hair now pulling his head back.  
  
"Heero!" Duo felt the old panic rising but this time it gave him strength. He got an arm loose and caught the guy on that side with his thumb razor, slicing him good over his eye. The guy swore and grabbed for him, but Duo had already pulled free from the other man who'd grabbed him and got his gun out. "Not this time, you mother fucking perverts. Not this time!" he screamed and opened fire, not even bothering to aim. One went down. Others ran. He was just beginning to believe they were going to get out of this in one piece when something came down hard on the back of his head and the world went black. The last thing he heard was Heero screaming his name.


	80. Wasabi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei had vowed he'd eradicate from his mind the screw-over he and Zechs had suffered at the hands of Une and Relena. He'd never expected it to yield useful capital. But it had today. All it took was a vid call from Zechs.  
  
When it was done, Wufei found himself not only reinstated at his previous rank, but in charge of a black ops with all the help he needed, including expedited search warrants arranged by their Tokyo counterparts. Deep cover was approved, and all files of this mission would be buried so far under security blocks that the press would never have access to them. Relena Peacecraft could not afford to have it known that she had left one of her staunches heroes, Heero Yuy, sick on the streets, or that she'd tried to ruin the reputation of another, her own bodyguard, Wufei. Une couldn't afford for her collusion to become public knowledge. Such things simply didn't fit the Preventer image.  
  
Listening in wonder to Zechs arrange all this with the two angry women, however, Wufei had wondered if he should be concerned about how easily manipulation and blackmail came to his lover.  
  
After the conversation had reached its tense but satisfying conclusion, he'd stared at Zechs for a moment, shaking his head. "You're very good at that, aren't you?"  
  
Zechs had just smiled and pulled him onto his lap. "Oh yes, very good. Don't forget, I have the benefit of a Romefeller education."  
  
  
Their parting in New Orleans later that day had been hard. He'd seen the pain in Zech's eyes, watching Wufei go off to do battle again, while he had to stay behind with his bodyguards.  
  
He had to put that out of his mind as he and Sally took off for Japan.  
  
+  
  
Sally hadn't said since her arrival, or on the drive to the shuttle port. Once they were airborne, however, with her at the controls, she reached across and clasped his hand. "It's good to have you back, partner. I've really missed you."  
  
"I miss you, too," he said quietly. "But don't get too used to it, OK?"  
  
Sally shrugged and handed him a data chip. "Here's the info we pulled from the letters that were sent to Heero, the bomb site, and a background check of Raphael Conte. There's no obvious link to Conte, but he's a nasty piece of work. He's ex-OZ, naturally, and guess what his specialty was? Propaganda vids! Remember those? Smiling families welcoming soldiers? Evil colonials laughing as towns are destroyed? Real nice stuff. He goes back to the Alliance period, and it looks like he was in deep with Romefeller, too, after the Treize faction broke away."  
  
Wufei opened the files she'd given him and scanned the info on Conte. He was an Italian national, born in Rome. He'd come from a working class family, but made powerful connections in the military. There was a rumor that he'd been involved in the blackmailing of high-ranking officers. He'd also been involved in the uncovering of the Victoria Academy sex scandal.  
  
"Meir!" Wufei growled. According to Duo, who'd hacked Meir's private files, the tabloid journalist had kept a private collection of the scandal photos, some of which involved Zechs, though the young nobleman's own connections had kept him out of the headlines at the time.  
  
"That Berlin journalist rat?" asked Sally. "He shows up in there, too. He and Conte worked together at the propaganda office. Meir sided with the Treize faction, though, and got out of the military before the final battles. Conte was in it to the end, and barely escaped a military tribunal. I suspect he had blackmail on his side again."  
  
"And now he makes porn."  
  
"Of the lowest sort. The S.K.U.M. line is his most lucrative venture."  
  
Wufei suppressed a shudder. He'd already done some research on his own, not letting on to Zechs, who'd begged him to leave it alone. It was horrid, brutal, sickening filth, and worse in that the cast of actors playing him and his friends had been well chosen and well groomed for their roles. In some scenes, it had been hard to tell the difference. He knew he was going to have take another look into that before they landed, given what Sally had just told him, and he wasn't looking forward to it.  
  
"I don't suppose anyone cross referenced his service record with ours?" he asked.  
  
"File RC004/3. He was never in the same place as any of you, except New Edwards, as a correspondent. Meir was there, too, that day. Conte came to Kisarazu after Heero's raid and made it into a very nasty piece of propaganda. I've seen the vid. A lot of it is staged. It claims that children were killed and there are still a lot of people who believe it."  
  
"Wait a minute! He did that, and now he's based there right across the bay with this whole S.K.U.M. operation?"  
  
"That's where he got his start, but it didn't take long for him to establish an international following. The Internet is a pornographer's dream. Always has been. And of course, under Japanese law, he's within his rights to make and market it, so long as he puts in all the proper disclaimers. He's very careful about that. According to him, it's all fiction."  
  
"Bastard!"  
  
He ran though the forensic reports next. Whoever was behind the letters and bomb knew how to be careful. They'd left nothing traceable. The Heidiki Koudo lead Zech's private investigator friend, Masa Nakamura, had given them didn't yield any new information, other than there were one hundred and fifty six men of that name in Tokyo alone. The post office box had been located and dusted, but there were no leads there, either. The box had been empty and the rental agreement was overdue for renewal.  
  
Wufei sighed and logged in to the Preventer site to check the status of their warrants. They would have full access to Conte's faculties and private residence, as well as both bars Nakamura had identified. The raids would begin when Wufei and Sally arrived to coordinate them. In the meantime, Nakamura had contacts watching for Heero and Duo.  
  
With some reluctance, he reviewed the photo files Zechs had given him of Masa Nakamura. There were two pictures. The first was a screen cap from a vid phone conversation the day before. Nakamura was handsome in that pure, fine-featured Japanese way, with dark intelligent eyes and a sensuous, full-lipped mouth. At the moment the picture was captured, he'd been smiling warmly at Zechs. The sight of that expression sent a deep stab of jealousy through Wufei; Zechs had referred to Nakamura only as an friend from his days at the Academy, but that smile, and the second photo, which showed the younger, smiling pair boozing it up in OZ uniforms with an arm around each other's shoulders, told Wufei all he needed to know.  
  
In the short time they'd been lovers, Zechs had never made any secret of the fact that there had been many others in his bed before Wufei. Wufei had accepted that. Now he realized that it was one thing to know there had been others, when they were only faceless concepts. It was quite another to meet one of them face to face. Especially one who looked like this! He went back to the screen cap and looked into those dark eyes again. This man had been Zech's sexual equal in every way, not some inexperienced, shrinking virgin like Wufei.  
  
Wufei sat back frowning at the photo. The emotions it evoked were confusing and distracting. They made him feel quite irrational. It felt strangely like what he'd felt when he'd heard that Heero had been in contact with Treize Kushreneda. //This must be jealousy!// he realized with a guilty start. He was jealous of Masa Nakamura and whatever he'd shared with Zechs, even if it had been only friendship, which Wufei very much doubted! According to Zechs it had been more than four years since they'd seen each other, but he certainly hadn't hesitated to call on him for help . . .  
  
_// Stop it! You're acting like a lovesick schoolboy! //_ he berated himself.  
  
"Who's that? He's hot!" said Sally, looking over his shoulder at the image.  
  
"One of our outside contacts, Masa Nakamura. He's meeting us at the shuttle port," Wufei said much more sharply than he'd intended. "Zechs knew him during the war."  
  
Sally raised a maddeningly knowing eyebrow at him. "Ah, I see."  
  
Wufei resolved to meditate before they arrived, clearing his mind of all such foolish thoughts before he had to work with the man.  
  
He closed the files, then, unwittingly followed Duo's lead as he pulled up Raphael Conte's website, Wasabi Productions. They had no proof that there was a connection, but Wufei's gut told him it wasn't a lead they could afford to overlook.  
  
Zechs had kept the vids from him that day in Berlin, telling him there was nothing there he needed to see. Wufei told himself he was doing this now as a Preventer agent on a case, nothing more.  
  
The vids were helpfully grouped by which Gundam boy was being abused. He ran through the ads for the ones about Heero, and found many rape scenes. As difficult as it might have been for both of them, he regretted not going over this information with Heero to what clues, if any, they could sift from this cesspool. As it was, there was little to be learned, beyond the fact that some of the places the scenarios took place corresponded with raids Heero had carried out, including the Kisarazu base. As far as he knew, Heero had never actually been raped during the war. There were no vids set after the war.  
  
Sickened by the stills that accompanied the write ups, he was about to shut it down when he noticed a cross link from one of the vids to something called "The Lunar Base Prison Sluts Series." It was also linked to sites about Trowa, Duo, and himself. He clicked on the link, bringing up the site for the series.  
  
Actors portraying the four of them were featured on a vid cover. "Trowa" was in the correct OZ flight officer uniform, and stood with a number of larger, very sadistic looking guards. The boys playing Heero, Duo and Wufei were cowering at his booted feet in scraps of their old combat clothing. The actor playing Wufei was dressed only in the tatters of his old white trousers. The cast in these things was almost always the same actors. He wondered if it bothered them to do this over and over again, if it was against their will, or if they enjoyed it.  
  
The rendering was lurid, it was true, but the basic facts were correct. He wondered if Conte had gotten access to military records through some source, or if he'd talked to witnesses. Reluctantly he began clicking through the clip links for the vids in the series. The ones about Trowa and the others weren't much help. None of them had ever spoken to him about what had happened to them while they were POWs at the lunar base. Trowa had played his role as OZ turncoat so well that at first Wufei had taken it at face value; Trowa had even been forced to interrogate Wufei when he first arrived, and had been brutal enough about it to convince both the OZ officers and Wufei himself.  
  
The vids were a sadist's masturbatory fantasy, of course, but he paused with a soft gasp as he came across one about that same interrogation. The clip showed the 05 character tied to a chair, being slapped and punched by the 03 character, just as Wufei remembered. In this version, however, the session ended up with a gang rape, with 03 first in line.  
  
Wufei swallowed hard and closed that link. So Conte had done some research. He checked other titles associated with his character and found what he'd expected. Three were devoted to him and supposed encounters with Treize Kushreneda. Two were pure fabrication, but the third was based on their duel aboard Kushreneda's yacht. It ended in predictable fashion, with him buying his freedom with sexual favors that apparently spanned a number of days aboard the yacht.  
  
Wufei shuddered at the sight of the boy who looked so much like his younger self, crouched half naked and bloody at the feet of the tall, auburn haired actor playing Treize. It was too close to the truth, too accurate, to be a coincidence. Looking at it, Wufei found himself remembering how Kushreneda had actually looked, smiling down at him that day after he'd bested him. Wufei had been prepared to die. He hadn't been prepared for mercy. It still stung his pride. On the heels of that thought, however, came the memory of the strange thrill he'd felt in that moment. He shook his head; even then, perhaps he'd been on the path that led him to Zech's bed?  
  
He went back to the moon base series and found half a dozen vids revolving around Duo, all of them horrendous. He knew Duo had only been seriously abused once. Was that event here, too, among all these disgusting scenarios? He soon had his answer. Only one showed Duo being whipped with the sort of leather strap it would have taken to leave the marks Wufei had seen on him that day in the prison shower. He put in earphones and turned the screen away so Sally couldn't see, then ran through the clips of that vid. Sure enough, in the scene where the soldiers came for Duo, led by Trowa in this version, one of the men turned to the Wufei character and told him, "You're next!" He even called him a "slant" as the man had that night. In this version Duo was gang raped, and then Wufei was dragged out for the same treatment. That much was clear from the selection of clips, though the scenes were edited so as not to give away too much to perspective customers. He closed the file and rubbed at his forehead, trying to banish the sickening images and the bad old memories they dredged up.  
  
"Oh, Maxwell," he murmured, closing his eyes. Something very bad had happened to Duo that night. He prayed it hadn't been this bad.  
  
"Don't you think you've looked at enough of those?" Sally said, jarring him from his thoughts.  
  
"Have you watched any?"  
  
Sally nodded, scowling. "Just bits and pieces on the flight down, after I read the rundown on Conte. It's horrible stuff isn't it? A few years back Conte tried to do a series about Zechs, but Relena got wind of it and that was the end of that. But do a search on 'Alex Lightning'."  
  
Wufei did and was not surprised to find a series of vids featuring a handsome young OZ warrior with a red uniform and long blonde hair. This Alex fellow managed to have sex with all of the Gundam boys, including a three-way with Heero and Trowa at some base in the Arctic. Disgusted as he was, Wufei allowed himself a smirk. The hairstyle was close, but Alex Lightning wasn't nearly as well endowed as Zechs. He kept this observation to himself.  
  
"It must be weird, looking at things like that," she said.  
  
"It's most disturbing. Some of the scenes are based on places or situations that happened."  
  
Sally gave him a look of shocked concern. "Oh Wufei! Don't tell me--?"  
  
"No, I don't know for certain that any of us were actually raped, although Maxwell was physically abused on a number of occasions. He did have a talent for getting caught. And just so you know, I never was."  
  
"I'm very glad to hear that."  
  
She looked so shaken that he added, "You were my first. And you were very kind."  
  
She gave him a guilty look. "I shouldn't have been your first, should I? I didn't know how young you really were, but I was too old for you anyway. But I did care for you, and I still do, as a friend. I always will."  
  
Wufei nodded, at a loss for words.  
  
Sally rubbed nervously at the controls. "I guess I should tell you, I'm seeing someone. One of the psychologists attached to the violent crimes unit. We're working a case together. Misha Rabideau."  
  
"Congratulations. I'm happy for you," Wufei said, and meant it. He wondered if he should have felt some twinge of jealousy, but he didn't. It made him sad; he had mistaken what he and Sally had shared for love for a time, but now he knew better. He felt sad for her, too, having put up with him all that time.  
  
+  
  
A small entourage was waiting for them at Tokyo International early that evening. A female Preventer major of the Tokyo branch was there, in charge of the search team that had been assigned to the case.  
  
Off to one side, near the arrival lounge door, Wufei recognized Masa Nakamura. He was dressed in a sharp black suit and shirt under a long black leather overcoat. His long black hair was pulled back in much the same fashion as his own, Wufei noted with another pang of unease. This guy was even more handsome and imposing in person.  
  
Meditation hadn't helped as much as Wufei had hoped.  
  
A handsome young brunette Caucasian stood with Nakamura, dressed street tough in worn black racer leathers. His hair hung in a braid like Maxwell's over one shoulder, though not nearly as long. His tight fitting leather jacket was unzipped halfway, exposing a bare chest and the OZ insignia dangling from the studded leather dog collar around his neck.  
  
If Wufei had encountered them on the street, he'd have taken them for a yakuza lieutenant and one of his minions. He sincerely hoped their look was only cover.

Nakamura stayed where he was as the Preventer officer greeted Wufei and Sally.  
  
"Major Po? Captain Chang? I'm Major Kaori Tzuki. Welcome to Tokyo." She bowed slightly and handed Wufei the search warrant. "My orders are to assist you in any way you require, but to stay out of your way. Is that your understanding?"  
  
Sally bowed and smiled. "I wouldn't have put it so bluntly, but yes, that's about the size of it. This is a very delicate mission. Very political."  
  
"I understand. This man Nakamura?" She jerked a thumb at the pair by the door with evident distaste. "He claims you're expecting him."  
  
"Yes, he's one of our outside contacts."  
  
Tzuki shrugged. "He's good, but slippery. His boyfriend there, too. Just be sure you know who's helping who, if you know what I mean?"  
  
"Thanks. We will. Anything to report yet?" asked Sally.  
  
"A rented Lear jet with a New Orleans point of origin has been located and impounded."  
  
"Searched?" Wufei asked.  
  
"No, it's been sealed, per Commander Une's orders. I guess she wants you two to handle that. Otherwise, there's been no sign of anyone matching the descriptions you gave us. The jet was rented by someone using the name Johnny Smith. There's no record of anyone from the plane passing through customs, but bio scans show no one aboard.  
  
"That's not surprising. Don't worry. The men we're looking for have full immunity and license to investigate." Wufei handed over the bogus papers Zechs had leveraged out of Une. "We're concerned that their cover may have been compromised. We're here to provide backup and carry out an extraction, if necessary."  
  
Tzuki nodded. "With all due respect to you and Commander Une, I don't like being kept in the dark on my own turf. Wouldn't I be of more use to you if I knew details?"  
  
"I'm sorry, but that's classified," Sally replied. "As of right now, I'm only at liberty to include you in the investigation of Raphael Conte and the possible illegality of his business."  
  
Wufei left the two majors to sort things out and approached Nakamura, who'd been lounging with his friend by the door all this time.  
  
The Japanese man looked him up and down with lazy, almost sensual appraisal as Wufei approached. It reminded him of the way Zechs had looked, back in that LeFleur sex club. "Chang Wufei. Pilot 05. So we meet at last. In person, at least. You and I crossed paths a few times in battle."  
  
"Nakamura Masa," Wufei replied, keeping his bow to a quick nod. He glanced at the younger man. "And this would be?"  
  
"My partner." Nakamura kept it vague, though Zechs had already informed Wufei of the relationship.  
  
"Keno Shiner," the young man drawled, his accent southern North American. He was striking, Wufei couldn't help but note, with very fair skin, high cheekbones, and eyes almost the same dark blue as Heero's. He looked a little like Duo.  
  
When he looked back at Nakamura, he found the man smirking at him. "Zechs always had a fondness for rice balls. You and I? We like the white meat, eh?"  
  
Wufei stared at him, unable to believe he'd heard the man correctly, even when Shiner grinned at him and wrapped an arm around his Asian lover's waist.  
  
"Make no mistake, Chang," Nakamura went on, eyes narrowing. "I'm just doing this as a favor for a friend. That friend isn't you, and it's sure as hell is not Yuy. Are we clear?"  
  
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind."  
  
"Good." Nakamura shrugged Shiner off, then leaned back against the wall, took a pack of expensive black cigarettes from the inside breast pocket of his coat and stuck one between his lips. Shiner snapped a lighter out of thin air and lit it for him. Nakamura didn't even glance at the kid, just took a drag and blew smoke in Wufei's face. "So, your friends touched down about six hours ago. The Preventers got the plane under wraps fast, but not fast enough. I found a small arsenal under a bulkhead. Explosives. Automatic weapons. Serious shit. I left it all where I found it."  
  
Wufei let out a small sigh of relief. At least they weren't walking the streets with that kind of contraband on them, although he knew damn well they were armed.  
  
"No one saw anyone matching their description leave the airport, but Zechs figured they'd be pretty good at disguise. I've got my feelers out across the whole harbor district, and around the old base. I'll let you know ASAP if anything shakes loose." He reached into a pocket of his long leather coat and handed Wufei a sleek new cell phone. "My contact number is programmed in. I'll call you on this if I come up with anything." He glanced down at the expensive gold Rolex on his wrist. "It's 8:59 local time. I wouldn't expect much to happen before midnight. Good luck shaking Conte down. The guy may be ex-OZ, but he's still scum. You boys aren't the only one's he's screwed over, believe me."  
  
Giving Wufei a last, "undressing-you-with-my-eyes look", Nakamura strode away with his boyfriend and disappeared into the crowd milling along the concourse beyond.  
  
+  
  
Conte's Wasabi Productions studio facilities took up the top three floors of a nondescript office block in the Ginza, and it appeared that business was excellent. The reception lounge was huge, modern and tastefully decorated with muted colors and bright art. There was no sign of the real products. It could have been the entrance to any important corporation. The place was open twenty-four hours a day. A stylish young receptionist accepted their search warrant with a polite bow and pressed an intercom button.  
  
"Conte-sama, you have visitors in the lounge."  
  
"Mr. Conte is in at this hour?" asked Wufei.  
  
"He lives in the building," the girl replied.  
  
A few moments later a thick set Italian man strolled in, wearing an expensive silk smoking jacket over his designer slacks and shirt. "Ah, Major Tzuki," he said, bowing to the Japanese Preventer agent. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"  
  
Tzuki served him with papers. "Major Po and Captain Chang are investigating you under Article 47A of the ESUN Communications Act. We have reason to believe you are unlawfully producing biographical material without the consent of the subjects."  
  
Conte's dark eyes widened a bit, then he looked at Wufei much the same way that Nakamura had and burst out laughing. "Well, well. What an honor. Let me guess. You're here about my line of erotic art vids?"  
  
Wufei let out an outraged sputter. "Art vids? Is that what you call those pieces of--"  
  
Sally put a hand on his arm. "You can call them what you like, but if you present unauthorized biographical material in the context of pornographic or erotic material, then you are culpable. But you know that already, don't you? Alex Lightning? Very clever."  
  
"But you must be mistaken," Conte replied smoothly. "I'm just a purveyor of naughty, harmless fantasy for a discerning and very specialized audience. My vids all carry disclaimers and there are age filters on my advertising site. As for biographical material, I can't be blamed if my scriptwriters inadvertently come up some story that comes close to the truth. I'm not liable for coincidence. I'd be happy to ring up my lawyer, if you like?"  
  
"You're free to do so. In fact, I encourage you to," Tzuki told him. "In the meantime, we will be taking a thorough look around your facilities here."  
  
"Be my guest," Conte replied. "All our files are there in the office beyond the reception area. Tax forms, actors contracts *and* proof of age. We have hard copy and digital. Knock yourselves out."  
  
"Actually, I've come all this way to see you, Mr. Conte," Wufei told him. "Is there somewhere private where we can speak?"  
  
"Certainly, though you won't object if I keep a few witnesses handy, until my lawyer arrives? Very well, come this way."  
  
He led Wufei through a door and down a carpeted corridor. Again, it could have been any sort of a high profile office building. Smiling, Conte opened a door and ushered him through. Wufei had expected an office or conference room. Instead, he found himself in a soundstage and a production was in progress. The set built against one wall was designed to look like a bedroom in some Sanque mansion. A huge, lavish four-poster bed dominated the middle of the room. The actors who played Treize, Wufei and "Alex Lightning" were currently actively engaged in the middle of it.  
  
The two OZ officers were in uniform, though their coats, shirts and the fronts of their pants were open. "Wufei" was naked on his hands and knees, being brutally fucked up the ass by "Treize" and sodomized in the mouth by "Alex". The two men were grunting, swearing, and laughing, calling the boy all sorts of foul names. Tears ran down their victim's face and he was whimpering and struggling. Alex took a better grip on "Wufei's" long hair, ramming his cock into his mouth. When "Wufei" tried to pull away "Treize" smacked him on the ass, leaving red marks on his golden bronze flanks and fucked him harder on that end.  
  
Wufei reached for his gun, half convinced a crime was in progress, despite the bored looking film crew watching them. Real or not, it looked like the young Chinese actor could get hurt.  
  
"A moment, if you please," Conte whispered. "I forgot they were shooting in here tonight."  
  
It was perfectly obvious that the man was lying. He'd known exactly what he was doing, rubbing this in Wufei's face. There had never been such a three-some; it was a fictional scene and therefore legal under Japanese media law. Wufei fought hard to keep his expression distant and disdainful as the trio on the bed grunted and moaned their way to a noisy climax, one which involved "Wufei" sobbing brokenly as the others pulled out and ejaculated all over him. His face and ass were dripping by the time they were done. Oddly enough, the young actor was now sporting a sizable erection.  
  
"And cut," the director called. "Great job, boys. You got that in one take!"  
  
"It's only about the hundredth time we've played that scenario," the fake Wufei groused as several young male assistants wiped his face and body down with damp towels. He sprawled back on the bed and jerked a thumb at Alex. "C'mon, Jazz. Get back your skinny ass back here and suck me off. You owe me, after you practically tore out my fucking tonsils again! I told you to watch that."  
  
There was scattered applause and encouraging shouts around the room as the blond grinned and started back for the bed, shedding the robe an assistant had just draped over him.  
  
Everyone quieted when Conte cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, forgive me for interrupting. It looks like things are going very well!"  
  
Everyone bowed respectfully, even the Europeans and "Wufei," who sounded decidedly American. The way he talked reminded Wufei of Duo. Damn it, why was everything reminding him of Maxwell?  
  
He didn't get much further with that thought when he realized that every eye in the room was now fixed on him.  
  
"We have a special visitor tonight," Conte announced, sounding as if Wufei had been flown in as a special honor. "Michael, come say hello to the real Chang Wufei. Perhaps he'd be willing to give you some pointers. What do you say, Captain Chang?"  
  
Wufei stood there, appalled, as the naked young man who looked so much like him sauntered over, his hard on still bobbing up against his belly front of him. He looked about fifteen, but his eyes were old with experience as he smirked at Wufei.  
  
_// His cock is bigger than mine //_ Wufei thought, wanting out of this room and away from these crazy people.  
  
"Wow, I never thought I'd get to meet you!" Michael said, sticking out a damp-looking hand to shake. "It's a pleasure."  
  
Wufei ignored it coldly. "I assure you, it's not."  
  
Michael just grinned and ran his palm loosely up and down his own erection. "You and me oughta do a scene. Damn, that'd be hot! Like you fuckin' yourself! Hey Raph, it could be like a dream sequence or somethin'."  
  
Several people snickered and Wufei prayed they wouldn't see him blush. He was glad Sally was not there to see this.  
  
"That's enough. You've had your little joke," Wufei growled, taking Conte by the arm and escorting him from the room. Conte chuckled and led him across the corridor to an empty sound stage. Wufei tried to ignore the clapping and catcalls that followed him.  
  
"You really are slime, aren't you?"  
  
"I was only trying to make a point," Conte assured him. The man was unflappable. "That was fiction, pure and simple. It's not actionable."  
  
"You made a vid about my duel with Treize aboard his yacht! How is that fiction?"  
  
"Ah yes, one of our best sellers. Don't tell me you really dueled with him?" Conte's smile was positively oily. "There is no official record of that, you know. The report made by Treize's crew states only that Pilot 05 attacked Kushrenda's private yacht, without provocation, I might add, and that he was repulsed and driven off. There is no mention of a duel. Who would imagine such a thing? Don't tell me we have another coincidence here? How amazing!"  
  
"That's bullshit and you know it! It was obviously witnessed by some of Kushreneda's men, no matter what the report said! You must have interviewed them."  
  
"Really?" Conte shrugged. "Where's your proof? Your word against mine? And Kushreneda not here to defend himself? Not much of a case, Captain. Besides, there are several disclaimers interspersed between the scenes, clearly stating that what the viewer is watching is fiction. You are covered, the same as me. Are you going to step forward and give credence to the storyline? If you tell people the duel really happened--and that's your story, not mine--then who will blame them for wondering about the rest of it, eh?"  
  
"I don't care about your dirty movies!" Wufei growled, clenching his fists to keep from attacking the man. "That's not why I'm here. Another Gundam pilot, Heero Yuy, has been receiving threats by someone with materials very similar to what appears in your films. Yesterday someone tried to assassinate him and nearly killed two former pilots. We believe that these events are connected and that you are either involved, or may have information regarding this investigation. If you don't cooperate and I'm right, then you'll be facing an accessory to attempted murder charge, and obstruction. You will be liable under ESUN law for that. The fact that it took place across international borders may even open you up for terrorism charges."  
  
"Attempted murder? Terrorism? Why on earth would I want to murder Heero Yuy?"  
  
"Why not? You've already carried out character assassination. The propaganda vid you made about the Kisarazu raid accused him of crimes against humanity, things he didn't do. But misinformation like that has incited someone to a personal vendetta." Wufei paused and took a deep breath. He couldn't let this get personal, not now. "Tell me, does the name Heidiki Koudo mean anything to you?"  
  
Conte laughed. "Is that all you wanted to know? You haven't done your homework very well, Captain. Heidiki Koudo is the pen name of one of my best scriptwriters. The 01 vids are his specialty."  
  
"A pen name? What's his real name?"  
  
"Hato. Heidiki Hato."  
  
"Is he here now?"  
  
"Oh no. The writers all work from home or their own offices. I hardly ever see them. As long as they deliver a decent script on time, I don't care what they do. And Hato is one of the best. He produces more scripts than I can use, in fact." Conte paused, frowning slightly. "We have had a few creative differences lately. His material has been getting a bit extreme, a bit edgy for my market. And he's been wanting to do death scenes, and post war scenarios but our customers don't want that and the legal situation would be too dicey. He's even talked about starting his own production company."  
  
"Post war scenarios?" Wufei felt a cold chill. "You have an address for him?"  
  
"Of course. Mara will get it for you. I think it's over in Kisarazu, near the old base. He says the atmosphere inspires him creatively."  
  
Wufei grabbed the man by the arm and propelled him back to the reception area. "I want that address. NOW! Sally! Major Tzuki! I think we just caught a break!"


	81. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Someone had drugged him. Half conscious, struggling to wake up Duo fought to open his eyes, but his body didn't want to cooperate. His brain was packed with cotton. He couldn't figure out where he was or what had happened, only that there was some reason to be scared, and every reason to clear his head before something bad happened. It gradually filtered through the drug fog that he must be in a cellar. The dank, mildewy smell was unmistakable, along with the smell of shit and piss. It smelled like a squat. For a moment he thought he was back on L-2.  
  
No, that wasn't right! He sucked in deep breaths and pried his eyelids open, then squinted them shut again against a hazy, stabbing glare. He was lying on his back. He concentrated hard and managed to roll over, away from the light. He felt damp concrete under his cheek. He also realized that someone had really kicked the shit out of him. His ribs hurt like hell and the side of his face and one eye felt swollen. His head was buzzing and spinning and he was having trouble focusing his eyes. He took a few more deep breaths, trying to ignore the stink, and managed to push himself up on his elbows and look around.   
  
The world was trying to slide away from him. Everything pitched and blurred, but he made out single naked bulb in a metal cage overhead, and gray cement walls.   
  
That felt wrong. He didn't remember coming to any cellar. _//Think, Duo! Concentrate!//_  
  
An overwhelming sense of danger permeated the fog is mind. He had to get a grip!  
  
_//Japan. The alley. Heero! Where the hell was Heero?//_  
  
Fighting the undertow of drugs, he looked blearily around and spotted a huddled shape was curled up in a corner a few feet away, head resting on his knees. For a second Duo had a little flash back to that cell on the lunar base. Heero had always slept like that. And he'd worn manacles just like that, too. Metal cuffs covered his forearms halfway up to the elbows.   
  
And he was wearing his old green tank top and those awful old sneakers.   
  
And nothing else.  
  
Oh god! Heero!  
  
Duo fought harder against the drugs, and lost.  
  
+  
  
Zechs hadn't been able to settle down to anything after Wufei and Sally left for Japan. The expensive hotel room seemed stale and cold now. The bedroom was the worst. The rumpled sheets where he'd taken the final vestige of Wufei's virginity still smelled of sex and his lover's sweet, exotic musk.   
  
_//Anything you want, my emperor.//_ It gave Zechs a thrill, remembering his love's blushing attempt at a pet name. Zechs rather liked his choice. He lay down for a while, burying his face in Wufei's pillow, but that just made him feel lonelier. He couldn't sleep.  
  
With a couple of bodyguards in tow, he drove down to the house to assess the damage. Fortunately, the blast had been contained and limited to one side of the house and a lot of broken glass. It could be repaired, if the Winner-Bartons decided to keep it. He rather hoped they would. The boys had all seemed so happy there.   
  
It was late when he arrived at the hospital, but Trowa was awake. He looked better than he had. The bandage on the side of his face was smaller now, his eye puffy but clear. Wrapped in a flannel robe, he was sitting up in a chair by Quatre's bed, holding his sleeping husband's bare foot with one hand and reading a magazine spread on his knee.   
  
Quatre looked a little better, too. He was still encased in the regen units, but the breathing tube was out and his color was normal again.  
  
Zechs leaned in the doorway, feeling a little bittersweet as he watched them. Such love. Such devotion. Wufei had only been gone a few hours but Zechs ached for him.  
  
Trowa looked up and saw him standing there. With a last look at Quatre, he tossed the magazine aside and limped out into the hallway, holding a finger to his lips.   
  
"Let's sit out here," he whispered, his normally smooth, deep voice still hoarse. "He's been really restless. The cervical block is still in and he's getting claustrophobic. They gave him a light sedative. I want him to sleep."  
  
"Certainly." Zechs took Trowa's arm to steady him and helped him to a couch against the corridor wall.   
  
This was the first time he'd been alone with Trowa since the war. The feeling of that hard, wiry arm under his hand and the scent of the young man's body-they brought back memories he'd promised himself as a gentleman he would not revisit. But he'd known this boy's body, and his own body remembered. He pushed those memories away, but not before wondering if Quatre knew about that night in Antarctica? Now was not the time for such questions.**  
  
There'd been no hearts and flowers back then, of course, just a quick bit of sex, but he'd liked Barton then and he liked the young man he'd become. Barton was a bit taller now, more muscled, but he still had that same quiet manner and those fascinating guarded green eyes.   
  
"How are you doing?" he asked.  
  
Trowa rested his head against the back of the couch. "Better. The headache's gone and but I'm still dizzy."  
  
"You boys were always fast healers, or so I hear."  
  
Trowa shrugged. "Where's Wufei?"  
  
"Japan. He and Sally left a few hours ago."  
  
Trowa looked at him in surprise. "He hasn't gone back to the Preventers?"  
  
"Temporarily. For his friends."  
  
Trowa sat forward and rested his head in his hands. "This is such a mess. What was Heero thinking?"  
  
"He wasn't. That's the problem, and neither was Maxwell, apparently. Wufei was too worried to just let them go."  
  
"But the Preventers? After what they did to him?"  
  
Zechs sighed. "There isn't much he wouldn't do for any of you, you know. And not because he feels he owes you for helping him. He cares very much for all of you."  
  
"I know." Trowa sat up and fixed those green eyes on Zechs. "Wufei feels things very deeply. The way he loves you? I hope you're worthy of it."  
  
Zechs couldn't help smiling. No one had more reason to suspect him than Barton, he supposed. "I give you my word, I won't hurt him. He's all I want in the world."  
  
Barton nodded, apparently satisfied. "It must be hard, having him go off like this."  
  
"Excruciating."  
  
Trowa glanced at the open door across from them and nodded.   
  
"Have the doctors given you a prognosis for him yet?"  
  
"Full recovery in time, but it could be months before he can go back to performing. He'll need physical therapy."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"I'm not sure. Given my line of work, they're being extremely cautious."  
  
"What about your show?"  
  
Trowa shrugged. "I'll figure something out. Right now I have other things on my mind."  
  
Zechs marveled at the emotion behind those terse words, and at the bond that existed between these five boys. Wufei claimed the two couples weren't sexually involved, but Zechs wasn't so certain.  
  
Just then Trowa's head jerked up. He rose unsteadily and limped quickly back to Quatre's bedside. Zechs hadn't heard a thing.   
  
Quatre was only half-awake, but very agitated. The monitors by the bed were beeping frantically.   
  
"Trouble!" he mumbled as Trowa and Zechs bent over him. "Heero. Trouble! Got to help-" Those blue eyes opened wide and found Trowa. "Got to help him!"  
  
"What's happening, meli? Can you tell?" Trowa said, resting a hand on Quatre's head to calm him.  
  
"No-just-he's scared. Never felt Heero like---scared. Sick. Something's gone wrong. He's-he's so lost!"  
  
"Wufei will find him," Zechs told him.  
  
A nurse hurried in and checked Quatre's vitals, then shot Trowa a dark look. "You shouldn't be exciting him!"  
  
"I'm fine," Quatre mumbled, then his gaze shifted to Zechs. "'fei?"   
  
"Yes, he and Sally went after them. And I have friends there who will help them."  
  
Quatre closed his eyes, looking like he was in pain despite the block and drugs. "He's so scared, Tro! You should go-- Help him!"  
  
Zechs watched in amazement as Trowa's usual guarded expression gave way to one of genuine anguish, torn between staying with his love and going to help his friends. "All right, mi corazon. I'll go." He looked up at Zechs. "Will you stay with Quatre? Watch over him for me?"  
  
"Forget it," Zechs told him firmly. "In your state, you'd only be a liability. Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, if something really is going down now, neither of us could get there in time to do any good."  
  
Green eyes locked with his. "If things do go-" He broke off, glancing protectively at Quatre. He lowered his voice. "Someone should still be there."  
  
'For the survivors,' those green eyes told him.  
  
Command training was deeply ingrained in Zechs, even after all this time. He'd overcome all his security chief's objections, picked an escort detail and calculated shuttle flight times before he'd even left the hospital.  
  
Hell, he'd only been looking for an excuse to go. If Wufei was upset with him, he'd lay it off on Quatre's hunch.  
  
+  
  
The Tokyo Preventers didn't have any information on Hato under either name, but Masa Nakamura did.  
  
Wufei used the cell Nakamura had given him as they headed out from the neon lit Ginza toward the Aqualine.   
  
"He's linked to some unsavory rumors here," Nakamura told him. "Street kids seem to go missing after talking to him, all boys. He's careful, picking up ones with no family to call the cops. I think he owns several properties around the harbor. It will take you almost an hour to get here. Keno and I will start hunting."  
  
Wufei was gripping the cell so hard his hand ached. "Thanks. Keep in touch."  
  
"Will do."  
  
Major Tzuki didn't take any chances, given the bombing in New Orleans. She called in another dozen Preventer officers and a S.W.A.T. team.  
  
It was torture, pure torture, having to sit in the back of Major Tzuki's car with Sally, helpless to do anything but wait out the ride. Tzuki was on the phone in the front seat beside her driver, ordering a document search to find any properties Hato could be using.  
  
They left the city and set off across the thin ribbon of elevated highway that spanned Tokyo bay like a glittering diamond necklace stretched across the dark water. Stranded in the middle of all that darkness, the lights on the far shore seemingly an endless distance away, Wufei had to close his eyes and summon the wisdom of Lao Tzu. Otherwise, he'd have been tempted to jump from the car and just run.  
  
+  
  
Duo's head was aching but clearer when he came around again. Panicked, he sat up and stared at the half naked figure hunched in the corner. It was like looking back in time. Heero even seemed smaller, as if he'd shrunk back to his fifteen-year-old self.  
  
He struggled up on his hands and knees and started crawling toward him. "Heero? Oh, baby, what did they do to you?"   
  
"That's not me. I'm over here."  
  
Duo turned his head a little too quickly and the room spun. He choked back bile, and then turned more carefully. Heero, his grown up Heero, sat there against the wall behind him, still dressed in the dark jeans and tee shirt he remembered from this morning. But he was also wearing a set of those manacles. Duo looked back at the other Heero, then back at his Heero. As glad as he was to see him, his banged-up, drugged addled brain was still too scrambled to grasp the situation. "Holy fuck, Heero, what's going on?"  
  
The half-naked kid curled up tighter in his corner and let out a scared little whimper.   
  
"I don't know, 02," Heero whispered, and to Duo's horror, his lover's voice was shaking and thin, like a scared kid's. When had Heero ever sounded like that? "I just came around and there he was. When did they capture you?"  
  
Duo did a double take. Heero looked honestly surprised to see him. He sounded different, too, the way he used to. On a mission. When he was fifteen. Heero was holding himself oddly, like he was sick or had some serious internal injuries, but there was hardly a mark on him that Duo could see.   
  
  
"Heero, are you all right?" He looked over at the half naked kid again, and Heero's pale, shell-shocked expression. "Did they hurt you?"  
  
Heero shivered and gave him a confused look. Then he stole a worried glance at the heavy wooden door across the room. It was made of thick planks and reinforced with metal strips. It looked like something out of a dungeon. "You shouldn't be using my name in a combat situation. And since when do you call me Heero?"  
  
"Say what?" Duo rubbed his hands across his face, and felt dried blood down his left cheek and a good-sized goose egg on the side of his head where someone had cold cocked him. "God damn, 01, what's the--"   
  
But his head was clearing and suddenly he knew exactly what was going on. He'd seen flashes of it on the plane and in that alley. Oh fuck. Heero had been flashing and now he'd flashed himself back about three years or something. Or maybe to the time he was fugued and those fuckers had . . .   
  
Duo's brain took another leap. Heero had looked this scared and sick in those fucking photos. Was he flashing back to that?   
  
Duo crawled over and sat against the wall beside him. Heero glanced down in surprise as Duo's thigh brushed his. He moved away and Duo's heart died a little. _//Keep it together, Maxwell!//_ he ordered himself.   
  
"Status, 01?"  
  
Heero shivered and closed his eyes, turning his face away.  
  
Duo's heart died a little more. What had they done to him while Duo had been out cold? Had they raped him again? Heero's clothes were still all in one piece. He clung to that slim bit of hope.  
  
Duo searched himself for weapons, but they'd taken everything except the razors under his thumbnails. Somehow they'd overlooked those, even though he knew he'd cut one of the bastards during the alley ambush. Maybe they figured he just had a bad hangnail?   
  
He was still dizzy and his head hurt like hell. Probably concussed. God damn, it was not a good week to be a Gundam boy, that was for fucking certain! Especially for one particular braided numb nuts baka who stupidly followed his emotionally traumatized boyfriend into a trap instead of protecting him!  
  
Duo pondered that cold hard fact for a moment. Since the day Heero came back from the dead, Duo had been pushing him to be the strong one, the tough guy he could lean on. How blind had that made him? Now look where they were!  
  
"Oh, Heero, I'm so sorry!" he whispered, trying to take Heero's hand. Heero didn't pull away, but he looked embarassed and very confused.   
  
He wondered if being here was bringing back the memories Heero had lost. This might even be the very same room he'd been held in before. He decided to run with that. "Who brought you here?" he asked, letting go reluctantly.  
  
"I--I don't know," Heero said, pulling his knees up under his chin, mirroring the other boy still curled up in the corner over there. "I can't remember. But--but they hurt me." Those dark blue eyes went wide and dark. "They might hurt you, too! You've got to get out of here, 02. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" The look in his eyes shifted from confusion to alarm and that "you are such and idiot" look he used to give him. "You're--you're not supposed to be here. I was trying to--to protect you. You're not supposed to be with me! It's too dangerous to be with me! You've got to get away, Duo!"  
  
"That was a long time ago," Duo told him. "Listen to me, ba-" He caught himself. Better watch the pet names for now, so he didn't freak him out. "Listen, 01, you're flashing back. The war's over. You're not a kid anymore, and you're not sick."  
  
Heero shook his head slowly, like that didn't compute.  
  
Duo clasped his lover's clammy hands and turned them in the manacles, showing him the edges of the fading suicide scars. "See those, Heero? That happened almost a year ago. What those men did to you happened before that. You came through, and you came back to me. You're strong again. You're with me and Tro and Kat now. Heero, are you listening?"  
  
Heero was breathing harder now, glancing nervously around the cell. "You have to get out, Duo."  
  
Duo sighed, resisting the urge to kiss Heero's clenched fingers. "Not without you, buddy."  
  
Duo examined the lock on Heero's manacles. As he'd feared, it was operated by an electronic touch key. There was nothing to pick, just a smooth circle of contact metal. He was about to give up when he noticed something else. The links of short chain linking the two cuffs together were steel, rather than gundanium, like in the bad old days of the war. That metal was outlawed for general use. These were copies and they were only made of steel.  
  
"Heero, I think you might be able to break yourself out of these," Duo told him. Heero had been working out regularly for months now and his arms were corded with lean, wiry muscle, but Duo didn't know if he was as strong as he'd been when J was doing whatever it was he'd done to him in the bad old days.   
  
Heero shook his head, without even trying. "No, I can't. I can't!" He looked down at his hands for a moment, then back at Duo, as if he'd just noticed him. "You shouldn't be here."  
  
Duo caught something new in the way he said it this time. "That's right, Heero. Your mind's playing tricks on you, making you think you're in that other time when you were lost and sick and these men were hurting you. I know it's confusing, but that's why I'm here with you. It's not that time anymore. We came to make these men pay, remember? We came to put a hurt on them for hurting you and Kat and Trowa."  
  
"Someone hurt 03 and 04?"  
  
For a moment Duo thought maybe he'd gotten through to him, but Heero still just sat there all hunched up and scared looking. Duo wondered if maybe their captors had shot Heero up with something more than just knockout juice.   
  
Desperate, Duo took him by the shoulders, giving him a shake. "Listen to me, 01! You're confused. You're flashing. The year is 198. The war is over. You're not on the streets anymore. You're not sick. You're just confused. I'm with you. It's me, 'ro. Your Shinigami? Your--" Oh hell, might as well go for broke here. "Your mermaid, remember?"  
  
Heero looked at him in horror and blushed a dark red that would have done Quatre proud. "How--how did you know about that?"  
  
"You call me that all the time. Heero, look at me. Really look. I'm different. I'm older. You love me, and I love you. We're in Kisarazu, Japan, because some bad men tricked you into coming back--"  
  
"Kisarazu!"  
  
That registered, but not quite the way Duo had hoped. Heero pressed his face to his knees and wrapped his arms over his head. "Oh god! So sorry!"  
  
Duo pried his arms down. "Stop it! It was a mistake, bad intelligence. You didn't know, and you didn't kill any kids. It was three years ago. Heero, am I getting through?"  
  
Heero looked up and Duo saw tears on his cheeks. "I don't understand. 198?"  
  
"Yeah. We're all grown up, see? We--you and I--we've been lovers for about three months now? Don't you remember?"  
  
"L-lovers?" Confusion was replaced by utter disbelief. "No. I tried to--you hit me--"  
  
Oh fuck. "Oh no, Heero! No no no! Don't go there! Finland was a long time ago, too!" Duo grasped his shoulders harder, as if he could somehow pull him off the rollercoaster ride of horrors his mind was taking him on. "It was just a misunderstanding and we got that all sorted out, I promise! You love me up good, Heero. You love me up all the time. You're my boyfriend, Heero. I love you so much! Please, 'ro, come back to me? I need you here. We're in a bad place, I'm not gonna kid you. I need your help. I need you back, Heero!"   
  
Duo stopped and took a deep breath, close to tears himself. It wasn't going to do them any good if he had a meltdown, too. It probably wasn't helping that he'd forgotten his meds, hadn't taken them since Tro and Kat got blown up. By the time he'd remembered them he and Heero were already over the Pacific. Man, if Trowa ever found out, he'd really blister his ass . . . The thought of Trowa's disapproval was strangely comforting. He probably already had a date with the business end of a paddle for this boneheaded mission.   
  
Heero was still eyeing him dubiously. "I'll try, Duo." His gaze shifted over Duo's shoulder. "Who's that?"  
  
"I think it's time we found out."  
  
Duo got up and walked toward the half naked boy. The kid didn't look up, but Duo saw his bound hands clench and the way he tried to scrunch back even further into his corner. The traces of dried blood and what was probably semen on his bare thighs told Duo all he needed to know.  
  
Duo went down on one knee a few feet away from him, holding his hands out to show that they were empty. "Hey kid? It's ok. I'm not going to hurt you. I know what those bastards are doing to you. We're here to make it stop. We want to help you, Heero and me."  
  
The boy raised his head just enough for Duo to see one dark, frightened eye in a very pale face under those ragged bangs. "H-heero?" He gabbled something in Japanese.   
  
"He said the bad men keep calling him that, but it's not his name," Heero said softly behind him. "He thinks they've mistaken him for someone else. Do you think maybe they thought he was me? He looks a little like me. Those are like my old shoes."  
  
"It was no mistake." Duo's mind was finally firing on all cylinders again. "Ask him if a man named Hato brought him here."  
  
Heero translated and the boy nodded.   
  
Duo sat down where he was and motioned for Heero to come join him. "Tell him my name is Duo, and that you and I are here to help him."  
  
Heero translated and the kid looked up at them for real, then miserably tried to pull the shirt down to cover himself. He definitely had a street look to him, but not the tough kind. This one was a natural victim, a target for predators. A lot of people had tried to make that assumption about Duo, back in the slums.  
  
Whoever had dragged Duo and Heero down here had taken their weapons and jackets, but left their clothing alone. Duo pulled off his long sleeved work shirt and tossed it to the kid.   
  
The boy took it and spread it over his lap. "Arigato, Duo-sama." He looked at him again, then pointed shyly at Duo's braid. "Gundam Boy 02?"  
  
Duo grinned. Once in a while having one of the five most famous faces on the planet paid off. "Yeah, Gundam Boy 02." He pointed at Heero. "Gundam Boy 01. Heero, ask him what his name is."   
  
The kid hesitated, then whispered, "Yuki."  
  
"Yuki. Ohiyo, Yuki-kun," Duo said, giving him another smile. He caught Heero's look of surprise and shrugged. "What? I watch a lot of Japanese horror movies with Tro and Kat. I picked up a few things."  
  
The kid gave him a hesitant bow. "Ohiyo, Duo-sama. Heero-sama."  
  
"Ask him if he knows where we are."  
  
According to what Heero could get out of him, they were in an old house near the harbor. There was a big room with cameras down here in the basement. When the men abused him, they took pictures sometimes. Tears of shame rolled down the kid's cheeks at this halting admission.   
  
Heero said something soft and kind sounding, but the boy just shook his head, hugging his knees harder against his chest.  
  
Duo could get a better look at him, now that he was sitting up. He was built somewhat like Heero had been, compact and wiry, but much skinnier. He had the hair and blue eyes, but beyond that, he didn't look that much like him. He also didn't look much more than twelve. These guys weren't just sadistic creeps, they were pedophiles, too. Duo added that to his lists of reasons to kill them.  
  
Heero asked him something else and the two talked quickly back and forth for a few minutes.  
  
"So?" asked Duo.  
  
"He thinks he's been here for four or five days. There are four men, counting Hato. He gives the orders. They've-" Heero swallowed hard. "They've raped him five or six times. They don't feed him much. He can't walk anymore. They drag him out when they want him. He's afraid he's going to die here. He heard one of them saying they didn't think he was much good anymore. One of the others is Caucasian. Yuki thinks he might be American. One of the others has a big scary bird on the back of his hand. Another has a tattoo on his hip. Yuki saw it the last time--"  
  
"Yeah, I get it." That all fit with what Trowa had gotten from the photos. It had to be the same bunch who'd grabbed Heero, and had been sending him the hate mail.   
  
"These are the men we came to find, Heero, only they found us first. Are you sure you don't remember any of that?"  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Duo ran his fingers through Heero's dark hair. "It's OK. But keep trying. I have a feeling I'm gonna need your help real soon. Why don't you give those cuffs another try? You're really strong, Heero, really! And those are just regular steel. Should be a piece of cake for you!"  
  
Heero gave the links a couple of half-hearted tugs, but it was clear he didn't believe what Duo was telling him.  
  
Yuki said something in a soft, scared voice.  
  
"He says we should be quiet, because the men will probably be coming back soon."  
  
Poor kid, thought Duo. He was obviously scared out of his mind. He wondered if Heero had looked like this, sick and fugued as he'd been. "Ask him if we can come over and sit with him. Tell him we won't try anything."  
  
Yuki nervously agreed and Duo settled in beside him, offering a shoulder to lean on. Heero sat down next to Duo, and Duo was glad to see that he sat close, too. The younger Heero almost never did that.  
  
Duo carefully put an arm around the abused boy and Yuki leaned against him, shivering. He felt feverish and looked dehydrated. There was no water in the room, just a smelly bucket in the corner for a privy. "Ask him if he has any family, anyone who might be looking for him."  
  
Yuki shook his head. He'd run away from an abusive uncle two years ago and had lived on the streets ever since. He slept at the mission a lot, and the sisters were kind to him. They seemed to like "Hato-sama", so when he offered Yuki a job doing chores, the boy had gone with him willingly. He'd brought him to a big house on the edge of the slums, near the old military base. Yuki had been surprised. He thought Hato-sama was a rich man, but the house was run down and dark and the garden was overgrown. Yuki thought Hato would have him do some weeding or cleaning, but instead the man had brought him to the kitchen and given him food and some sake. He got him a little drunk. Then he told Yuki that he was a handsome boy, and that Hato-sama was a moviemaker. He wanted Yuki to be in a special film. Yuki was excited, until the other men came into the room. Hato told him to take off his clothes and put on the green tee shirt and black shorts, and some sneakers. The men watched him undress and Yuki started to feel scared at the way they were looking at him and muttering to each other.   
  
Yuki told them he'd changed his mind and wanted to go, but they'd grabbed him and dragged him into a bedroom. That's when the first rape happened. Then they dragged him down here to the cellar. Now they just took him to a room next door to hurt him.  
  
The boy was crying by the time Heero had translated all that. Duo held him close and rocked him. "You tell him we're not going to let those men hurt him again. Tell him, Heero."  
  
But Heero didn't. He just sat there, staring down at his bound hands.   
  
"Heero?"  
  
No response.  
  
This was not good. Duo gently cupped Heero's chin and looked into his eyes. They looked dangerously blank. Flashback or fugue, this was bad.  
  
Duo put an arm around him, too. "Don't you guys worry," he said, hugging them both. "I'll figure something out."  
  
He sure hoped so, anyway.  
  
+  
  
Nakamura called once while Wufei and Sally were still in transit to report that he and his boy had checked out a warehouse and found nothing.   
  
"We're moving on to a house he owns on Market Street. Number 11290."  
  
Wufei passed the address forwarded to Tzuki. "What's our ETA?"  
  
Tzuki consulted a map. "Ten minutes. Tell him to wait."  
  
"Wait for us," Wufei relayed to Nakamura. "Unless you think there's immediate danger."  
  
"Copy that."  
  
Tzuki glared back at him. "You can't authorize civilian actions."  
  
Wufei held out a form with Une's signature. "Actually, I can. Consider Nakamura and Shiner formally deputized."  
  
Tzuki gave him another frown and turned back in her seat.  
  
Sally caught Wufei's eye and whispered, "Helps to have friends in high places, doesn't it?"  
  
Wufei did not dignify that with a reply.  
  
Ten minutes turned into fifteen before they and their escort vehicles stopped a block away from the address Nakamura had given them to continue on foot. Kisarazu was a gray, depressing place in general, and this rundown residential neighborhood overlooking the oily harbor was no better. The few streetlights that still worked showed empty windows and sagging roofs. Wufei wanted nothing more than to find his friends and get them away from here.  
  
The house in question appeared to be abandoned. The walled yard was overgrown with untrimmed bushes and long dead grass. Nakamura and his partner appeared from around a back corner and came over to meet them.  
  
"No sign of any activity, and we haven't heard anything at all. There's a basement, and the windows are painted out black. My guess is they're being held down there."  
  
Wufei nodded. "OK. Let's go in."  
  
+  
  
Duo sat up and felt Heero and Yuki tense too, at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Judging by the way Yuki was plastering himself back into his corner, it was the bad guys coming to pay a visit.   
  
"They're coming." Heero whispered, trembling. He still looked blank and lost. In fact, he looked a whole lot like Yuki did, like he wanted to make himself disappear.   
  
There wasn't time for any more questions. Duo cupped Heero's chin again, making him look at him. "Let me do the talking, 01. Copy that?"  
  
Heero nodded. He was shaking badly now and his hands were clenched in front of him. No question what he was flashing to now.  
  
_//Damn it, Heero, I know you could snap those links if you'd just try!//_ Duo thought in desperation. It occurred to him only now to wonder why the goons hadn't cuffed him.  
  
A heavy lock rattled and the door swung open. An ugly, scar-faced Japanese guy in a good suit stepped in, accompanied by two strong-arm types with automatic rifles. All three of them had ex-OZ written all over them. The American wasn't with them.  
  
"Well, well, isn't this charming?" said the suit guy, giving them a really nasty smile.  
  
"So you're Hato," Duo said, standing up and stepping out to shield the others.  
  
"You're quick. I've heard that about you. Guess it isn't all clubbing and whoring around, eh, 02?"  
  
Duo shrugged. "So you're the guy's been sending Heero the pictures?"  
  
"Mementos of our last visit together. I was only trying to get his attention." Hato leaned a bit, looking around Duo at Heero. "Hmm. Our friend isn't looking too well."  
  
Duo took a step forward, fists raised. "You stay away from him, you sick son of a bitch!"  
  
"Oh no. I'm afraid that isn't going to happen." Hato's smile widened dangerously. "Let me tell you a funny story. When we had the genuine Heero Yuy before, we didn't know it was really him! Can you believe that? I mean, boys who looked *enough* like Heero Yuy aren't all that hard to find around here, and he hadn't been taking very good care of himself when I found him. It was right there in that alley, the same one we captured you in this time. He certainly didn't look like the same pilot who caused all the havoc around here. No, he didn't look much more like himself than this little fellow beside you. But from the back, both of them were close enough for the purposes of my associates and me."  
  
"You are one sick fuck!" Duo growled, fighting the urge to leap at the guy.  
  
Hato looked down at Heero and chuckled. "He doesn't seem quite himself today, either, does he? Perhaps he's been a bit stressed? Has something been upsetting him lately?"  
  
"You sent the bomb, too. And left that vid." Duo looked more closely at the two guys with him. "Which one of you put that gun to Quatre's head? I want to make sure I do the same in return, only my gun'll be loaded."  
  
"My my, you are quite the little spitfire, aren't you? I'm not sure my fellow writers quite capture you." Behind him, his two gunmen were eyeing Duo and Heero like hungry wolves, not looking too scared by Duo's threats.   
  
"Writer?" Duo asked.   
  
"Script writers. I think you've seen our work."  
  
Duo swallowed hard as the truth kicked in. "The S.K.U.M. vids. You--you write those?"  
  
Hato gave him a little bow, as if Duo was a fan. "Heero Yuy is my specialty. I've been fortunate, being able to combine my craft and my own special interest. Ever since I saw on the news that Heero is still alive, I've wanted him to come back for another visit. He's my inspiration, you see. My muse."  
  
Duo swallowed hard again, feeling queasy. This guy was obviously crazier than a shithouse rat. But he was a very dangerous one. With friends. "If you didn't know it was him, that other time, where'd you get those scrapbook pages you sent?"  
  
"Ah well, you see that's what tipped us off. We found those after he got away. He's the only one who ever has. That alone should have been proof enough, I suppose. Such a remarkable boy."  
  
Heero got away. Sick as he was, he got away. Duo's mind raced ahead. If he could keep these guys away from Heero just long enough for him to either snap out of it or at least flash to how he'd escaped . . .  
  
Duo took a step back, still shielding Heero. "I'm not letting you put one finger on him again."   
  
"Is that so?" Hato chuckled. Duo had amused him again. "Well, we'll just have to start with you, then, won't we?"  
  
+  
  
The assault team quickly took their positions around the house. Wufei and Sally put on bulletproof vests and helmets and joined Tzuki and the SWAT commander, Ito.   
  
"I'm taking point," Wufei said, pulling down the visor on his helmet.   
  
"Are you sure, Captain?" Tzuki asked. "Captain Ito is an experienced man."  
  
"I don't doubt you. But this is my operation." He checked the magazine of his borrowed machine gun, snapped on the high-powered flashlight clipped to his shoulder, and looked over at Nakamura. "You better stay back."  
  
On his signal assault units hit all three doors of the house at once. Wufei and kicked in the front door and went in low, gun at the ready.   
  
The house was pitch dark inside. The front room was empty and the place smelled like it hadn't been occupied recently. Someone found a light switch and turned it on. At least the place still had power.  
  
Ito motioned a unit up to check the second story but Wufei, acting on Nakamura's hunch, ran back through the house and found a door leading down into the cellar.   
  
He found another switch and turned the lights on, expecting gunfire or a challenge, but there was no sound. With Sally close behind him, he slowly descended, alert for any movement.   
  
The stairs led down to a wide open basement. The walls were whitewashed and there were odds and ends of professional looking photography equipment-lights on stands, several tripods, some reflecting screens. At the far side of the room, there was a door. A heavy wooden one.  
  
Wufei and his team ran to it and he tried the handle. It clicked open and he kicked it back.   
  
Another light was on inside, illuminating what could only be a holding cell, complete with narrow bunk and a set of manacles chained to the wall. It was empty, too. Dark stains that were probably blood blotched the mattress and a corner of the room. More stains showed here and there on the walls.   
  
"Oh god!" Sally whispered, taking it all in at a glance.  
  
Executions had been carried out here.  
  
Wufei ran his fingers over the stains, noting how totally dry they were. That was good news. If any of it had belonged to Duo and Heero, it would still be tacky.  
  
The team made a quick circuit of the entire basement, but could find no other doors. Racing back upstairs, he checked in with Tzuki and Ito. "Anything?"  
  
"Nothing, Captain," Ito told him. "Looks like no one's been here in weeks."  
  
"Damn it!" Sally groaned. "God damn it! Now what?"  
  
Wufei strode out the front door, fighting down the nausea that followed the adrenaline rush. The sky was beginning to grow light in the east. It would be morning soon.  
  
Nakamura was leaning against the lamppost by the street, cell in hand. "I think I've got someone who saw your friends tonight."


	82. Gaijin Hunt

"Well, we'll just have to start with you, then, won't we?"  
  
Hato's words, and the leers the other two men were giving Duo turned him cold and sick with deja vu. He looked around, half expecting to see the soldiers who'd molested him that night at the lunar base. These weren't the same men, of course, just the same type: sadistic bastards. Duo noted the screaming eagle tattoo on the hand of the big wrestler-type Japanese guy to Hato's left, recognizing it from some of the photos Hato had sent. These men had raped Heero. His Heero! The thought killed Duo's fears for his own safety.   
  
Hato seemed to sense the shift. He drew a pistol and took aim at Heero's chest. "Step outside the cell, Maxwell, or I will shoot him."  
  
Duo sneered, trying to mask his own alarm, He had to stall for time; he had to think of some way they all got out of this in one piece. "Wouldn't that kinda spoil your fun? I thought I was just the appetizer in this little show you got planned."  
  
"This now, you mean? No, this is just a dress rehearsal, a matinee show for the locals. Even as we speak, people are flying in from all over the world for the main attraction I have planned for tonight. And you'll be nothing more than the opening act, pilot 02. But it seems you need some coaxing."   
  
Hato shifted his aim and pulled the trigger. The shot was deafening in this tiny concrete room, but it didn't drown out the screams that followed. He'd shot Yuki in the upper arm. Heero pulled the boy across his lap, using Duo's cast off shirt to try and staunch the flow of blood as Yuki writhed and sobbed. Given the boy's severely abused condition, though, the shock alone could kill him.   
  
That was it. Duo lost it. Letting out a scream of his own, he flew at Hato, catching him across the face with both thumb razors before the man could react. He went after screaming eagle guy next, but the other gunman swung the butt of his semi automatic into Duo's gut, catching him on his already bruised ribs. He tried to stay upright but someone cold cocked him again.   
  
_//Fuck, they've got this down to an art!//_ Duo thought as the floor came up to meet him.  
  
+  
  
It was already dawn when Wufei set off with Nakamura and Shiner to meet their contact. The mysterious figure wouldn't come anywhere near Preventers agents, so they headed out to meet him at a 24-hour diner near the docks.   
  
Fortunately Wufei had anticipated the possibility of undercover work before he and Sally left New Orleans. Squeezed into the tiny back seat of Nakamura's sleek black ZX Jagan, he wore the cheap street clothes Duo had purchased for him on L-4 the day he and Heero had brought Wufei down to New Orleans that first time: cheap blue jeans and knock off sneakers, and the baggy Foo Dogs sweat shirt. His Preventer badge hung on a chain around his neck, hidden under his shirt. He was about to tuck his hair under the cap when Shiner turned around in the shotgun seat and handed him a black and white bandana.   
  
"You'll attract less attention with this. Know how to tie a 'Tokyo rag'?"   
  
"No," Wufei replied, though he had an idea what the man meant.   
  
Shiner demonstrated how to twist his hair up into a tight knot at the back of his head, then tie the folded bandana around his head to hold it in place.  
  
Nakamura looked at him in the rearview. "Not bad. You could pass for Japanese. When we get to the diner, just keep your mouth shut and try to look like you work for me. I'll make sure you get all the info you need. Copy that?"  
  
Wufei sighed. "I have a choice?"  
  
Shiner grinned, tugging at the OZ emblem on his dog collar. "Nope. Don't worry, kid. Masa told Zechs he'd take care of you. Damn, I can see why, too. You even shaving yet?"  
  
Wufei bit back a scathing retort, knowing the man was baiting him. These men did not need to know that Wufei only needed to shave a few times a month, a fact he chose to believe had more to do with his race, rather than his age. He could see Nakamura's eyes in the rearview, and but couldn't tell if he was grinning.   
  
Shiner was clearly enjoying having Wufei at his mercy. "What do you think, Masa? That Gundam must have had training wheels, huh?"  
  
"That's enough, Keno-chan," Nakamura said quietly, surprising both his boyfriend and Wufei. Those eyes weren't smiling now. Shiner glanced at his lover in annoyance, and saw something that wiped the last of his grin off his face. He slumped down in his seat, pointedly ignoring Wufei for the rest of the drive. Wufei smirked a little, noting that Nakamura had used "chan" rather than "san" or even "kun." There was no mistaking who wore the proverbial pants in this relationship.  
  
The diner turned out to be a run-down little greasy spoon that catered to prostitutes and junkies. A thin, stringy-haired young derelict with "addict" written all over him was waiting for them in a back booth. Nakamura motioned for Shiner to slide in beside the 'contact'. Wufei sat next to Nakamura and tried to look like one of his boys.   
  
Nakamura nodded at him. "What do you have for me, Saito?"  
  
The junkie regarded him with dull, bloodshot eyes. "Got something for me?"   
  
Nakamura took a small blue eyedropper bottle from his pocket and set it on the table in front of him. Wufei recognized the street package, and his suspicion was confirmed by the hungry look in their contact's eyes. It was Blue Dragon, a low-quality, highly addictive opiate. The addict reached for it with dirty, trembling fingers, but Nakamura bracketed the bottle with his hands, holding him at bay. "What do you have for me, Saito-kun? Is it worth a taste?"  
  
Saito never took his eyes from that bottle as he replied, "I heard on the street you're looking for a couple of gaijin snooping around? I was in the Samurai last night, sweeping floors? And these two guys come in. I never seen 'em around before. One spoke Japanese, but he didn't have no local sound, ya know?"   
  
He reached toward the bottle again, but Nakamura swept it up and pocketed it. "You're wasting my time."  
  
"No! I got more! The one who spoke Japanese? He started asking about the S.K.U.M. vids and I could tell some of the guys were taking notice. Then he asked about some guy named Koudo? After they left, the bartender sent a coupla guys to follow them. And he made a call."  
  
"To who?"  
  
Saito blinked anxiously at the bottle in Nakamura's hand. "I--uh, I didn't hear. But it was local. I could tell cause he only dialed the six numbers."  
  
"Who'd he send out?"  
  
Saito thought hard, blinking and rubbing at his nose. "I only know one of 'em. Big Fish. He's ex-sumo. Hangs out there all the time. He's got a squat over on Third, couple of blocks from here. I can show ya! C'mon, just give me a little taste first, for the shakes?"  
  
"All right, but I measure." Nakamura opened the bottle and took out the calibrated dropper. Saito leaned over the table, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Nakamura let a tiny drop fall on the man's tongue. Saito swallowed quickly, then shuddered and fell back in the booth beside Shiner with a look of sheer ecstasy on his face.   
  
Wufei shook his head, knowing it would be a short ride, and one that could only end in more shakes and cravings and sweats. The whole performance made him a little queasy. Is this how he would have ended up, if his friends and Zechs hadn't rescued him?   
  
"Grab him, Keno. Get him moving," Nakamura ordered.   
  
Shiner slid out and pulled Saito to his feet. "Big Fish, Saito-kun. You're taking us to his squat, right?"  
  
"Right, right!" Saito agreed, happy and energized now. He practically ran out of the diner, anxious to earn another hit.   
  
Hurrying along with the others, Wufei muttered, "This is how you work? Preying on the weaknesses of derelicts?"  
  
Nakamura stopped in his tracks and halted Wufei with a hand to his chest. "Too dirty for a terrorist like you?" he said softly, voice full of undisguised scorn and a bit of menace. He closed the distance between them, looming over Wufei, getting in his face. "You want we should walk away? Or maybe you should just call Tzuki and let her handle it that nice, clean Preventer way. That really worked, didn't it? Think your friends have that kind of time?"   
  
Startled, Wufei fell back a step. This man had an undeniable aura of power and control, too, just like Zechs. But it was different when that aura was not backed up by love and respect. He thought of that collar Shiner wore and wondered if it was more than just an affectation. But like it or not, though, this man was currently his best hope. He shrugged, backing down. "No. We do it your way."  
  
"Damn straight. Come on, before Keno loses the crazy poppyhead."  
  
Big Fish's squat was on the third floor of an abandoned tenement building. They climbed the rickety stairs and came out in a dusty hallway lit by a dirty, broken skylight. Drawing a large Sig, Nakamura put an arm around Saito and leaned close to his ear. "I need him to open the door, and even better if you can get him out into the hall. You do this right, and I'll give you the whole bottle. Got it?" He pressed some money into the man's hand.  
  
Saito drew himself up and gave Nakamura a surprisingly crisp, Academy-style salute, those bloodshot eyes still bright and clear from the last 'taste'. "Understood, Colonel. You know you can depend on me!" he whispered, then took off down the hallway, peering at dusty door numbers.   
  
"He was one of your men," Wufei whispered.  
  
Nakamura spared him a terse nod, and then followed Saito, hugging the wall with his weapon drawn.  
  
Saito knocked at the door. "Fish? Hey, Fish, you in there? I got some dosh. Can you fix me up? C'mon, man! I need it bad. I can pay this time, honest!"  
  
Wufei found himself watching the man with a little more compassion. He might have been a good soldier once, and still had some smarts left when the drug was boosting his remaining brain cells.  
  
After a moment they heard a gruff, muffled answer.  
  
"Yeah, I got it. It's still fifty for a half bottle, right?" Saito called. "I got fifty!" He held the money Nakamura had given him up to the spy hole.  
  
Wufei heard the sounds of a couple of heavy deadbolts and the rattle of a security chain, then the door opened and a short fat man in a pair of baggy boxers stepped out, yawning. "You better not be fucking with me, Saito. I'll tear your fucking--"   
  
That was as far as he got before he felt the cold muzzle of Nakamura's pistol pressed to his temple. Wufei and Shiner stepped out and covered him with their weapons, too. Big Fish's black slanted eyes widened, then rolled in disgust. "Saito, you are one dead mother fucker!"  
  
Nakamura reached into a coat pocket and pulled out a hundred-credit bill. "He wasn't lying, Fish. He needs it bad. You fix him up and keep the extra for your trouble. I just need some info."  
  
The money had a remarkably calming effect on the big man. "Info, huh? Hey, all you had to do was ask me nice, eh? What you need to know?"  
  
"You tailed a couple of gaijin out of the Samurai last night."  
  
Fish shrugged. "Yeah, so?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Some guy paid me to watch out for anyone dropping certain names."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Koudo. Heidiki Koudo."  
  
"Who is that?"  
  
"Fuck if I know. What do I care? Never heard of the fucker before a couple of weeks ago. Me and some other guys at the bar just got paid to listen for it, that's all."  
  
"Who were the men you followed?"  
  
"Men? Naw, just a couple of foreign kids. Didn't get much of a look at 'em. They was kinda bundled up, like they didn't want to be spotted. But one of 'em spoke English. Couldn't understand him, but the other guy, the blonde one? He spoke Japanese like a spacer."  
  
"So you heard them ask about that name and then you followed them. Where'd they go?"  
  
"Just wandered around, mostly, like they was lost. I followed 'em to the mission, then called it in. Don't know where they went after that. Wasn't my problem after that."  
  
"You reported in to someone, right? Who?"  
  
The fat man scratched under his considerable paunch. "That what you really want to know? Maybe that's gonna cost extra."  
  
Nakamura handed him a second hundred-credit bill. The moment the man took it, he cocked his gun and pressed it to Fish's forehead. "OK. The next thing you get from me is a bullet between the eyes. Who did you report to?"  
  
"Just a number, that's all I got," Fish replied, not looking particularly unnerved to have a gun to his head. "Come on in, I got it written down."  
  
Wufei followed Fish and Nakamura into the squalid flat, and caught his breath at the stink. There was broken furniture everywhere, scattered food boxes, magazine pictures of naked women in obscene positions the only decoration on the walls. A thin, strung-out looking woman glared at them from a filthy mattress in the corner, hugging a threadbare blanket around her shoulders.  
  
Fish hunted through the mess for his discarded trousers and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket. "Here it is, bro. All yours."  
  
Nakamura took it and glanced at it. "This is all you have?"  
  
"Like I said, bro. I just was supposed to call and tell whoever answered where the two guys was. I called twice, once right after they left the bar, and then again when they went into that mission over on the square. You know the one with the blue cross out front? The man I talked to, he said he'd take it from there, and told me where to pick up the rest of my money. I went back to the Samurai and got it out from behind one of the toilet tanks in the men's crapper. It was in a plastic bag." He held up a small bag as proof.   
  
"I'll take that, and the money," Wufei said, plucking the bag away by one corner, hoping for fingerprints.  
  
"You're welcome to the bag, kid, but I don't got the money no more. Had bills to pay, you know?" He grinned at Wufei. "Want to know where I spent it? It'll cost you."  
  
"No, this is fine," Nakamura said shortly. He gave him one last fifty. "No hard feelings for Saito, right?"  
  
"Hell no, bro. Easy money!"  
  
As soon as they were in the car again Nakamura handed the slip of paper with the phone number to Wufei.  
  
He pulled out his cell and dialed Tzuki.   
  
"Chang. Did the source work out?"  
  
"Yes, Major. It went well. I have a number I need you to trace, please."  
  
"Let me have it."  
  
"20-1143."  
  
"Got it. I'll call you back as soon as I have something. Shouldn't take too long. Do you need to speak with Po?"  
  
"Please." Wufei listened as the cell phone was passed along. Sally must have been standing right beside her.  
  
"Wufei, you've got a lead?"  
  
"Maybe. Where are you?"  
  
"Still at the abandoned house, ready to mobilize if this lead turns out to be something. What are you doing now?"  
  
"Our source said they went to a mission around here."  
  
"Sisters of Mercy," Shiner told him.  
  
"Sisters of Mercy," Wufei repeated for Sally. "We're going to check that out next."  
  
"OK. Good luck."  
  
Wufei hung up and slipped the phone back into the pocket of his sweatshirt. "So you know what mission the man was talking about?"  
  
Nakamura nodded and gunned away from the curb. "I can have you there in five minutes."  
  
The mission in question was a large homeless shelter and soup kitchen. Wufei ignored the nun on duty's skeptical look and showed his badge. He found himself hoping that Heero and Duo had stayed here for some reason. But of course, things couldn't be that easy.  
  
"Major Chang?" The woman shook her head, clearly distrusting the oddly dressed trio the three of them made. Nakamura still looked like yakuza in daylight, and Wufei and Shiner probably struck her as gang. Wufei silently cursed his disguise, realizing he was still wearing the bandana. He pulled it off and stuck it in a pocket.   
  
The sister gave him another skeptical look; his long, disheveled hair didn't seem to be much of an improvement. "Stay here, please. I'll get Sister Mary Agnes. She was on duty last night.  
  
Sister Mary Agnes turned out to be a tired-looking middle-aged woman. She listened carefully to Wufei's description. "A long braid? Dark hair? No, the only foreigners we had in last night were a blond and a boy with a hat."  
  
_//That could have been them,//_ Wufei thought, recalling the disguises the pair had worn when they'd met him and Zechs at the airport. "What were they here for?"   
  
"They were asking about a homeless boy who came through here a few years back. I only remembered him because he was an artist." She led them back to a message board and showed them a very good drawing of an angel who looked a lot like Maxwell. It had been them, all right. "That's his work. They recognized it right away." She hesitated, and Wufei had the distinct impression she was nervous about something.   
  
"Please, Sister, anything you can tell us would be helpful. Lives are at stake."  
  
"Well, they also asked about Mr. Hato."   
  
Hato! Wufei sensed a definite strain in the woman's voice and exchanged a knowing look with Nakamura. "How did they know him?"  
  
"They didn't. I do." She was twisting her hands anxiously now. "Mr. Hato has been very kind to the mission, both monetarily, and finding work for some of our boys. But one of those young men last night suggested that his motives might not be purely altruistic. I've been praying on it ever since, trying to decide if I should call the police."  
  
"Don't worry, Sister. The Preventers are already on the case. You've been very helpful."   
  
"These boys last night, were they Preventers?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"We're working on the same investigation," Wufei told her. "Do you know where I can find Hato?"  
  
"No, as I told those other agents, he just comes by when he needs someone for chores. I think he lives in the neighborhood by the old academy."  
  
"Thank you, you've--" Just then Wufei's cell rang. He excused himself and took the call outside on the steps. "Tzuki? You have something?"  
  
"The number you gave me is for a business called Black Pearl Exports. The address is 2459 East Wharf Street."  
  
Wufei passed this on to Nakamura.   
  
The man's dark eyes narrowed.  
  
"Damn, that's right next door to the place we checked out last night!" Shiner exclaimed.  
  
"Another warehouse?"  
  
"No, it was a cannery. It's been partially converted into retail space and offices, but most of it is still empty. The place is huge."  
  
"Did you get that, Major?"  
  
"I did, Chang. I'm on my way now with the strike team. And Chang? I hope we're right this time. There's been no sign of your friends."  
  
+  
  
Duo came to this time gagging on the sharp odor of smelling salts. Someone was intent on bringing him around. He was lying on his stomach, and when he tried to sit up, he found he was tied down bent over a cold metal table.  
  
Oh shit.  
  
He struggled, and only succeeded in figuring out that someone had stripped him before they'd tied him, and that who ever had done the hogtying knew what he was doing. Duo couldn't budge more than a couple of inches. He was buck-naked and spread eagled. It didn't take a genius to guess what was coming next. His thumbs hurt like hell, too, like someone had torn the nails down too far. Guess they'd twigged to the razors at last.   
  
Fighting back panic, he raised his head as far as he could and found himself looking Hato straight in the eye. The bastard was grinning more than ever now, in spite of the two long cuts Duo had managed to give him, one down his left cheek, the other just over his eye.   
  
"Awake again," he said, capping the smelling salts bottle. "My, you are going to have a nasty headache if you keep making us knock you out like that. It did make our job easier, though. Comfortable?"  
  
Duo turned his head away, and saw that he was now in a very large, poorly lit room somewhere. It still smelled like cellar, though, and from the corner of his eye he could just make out what appeared to be the same door he'd seen in the cell. There were more men here now, perhaps a dozen from what he could see. And, he saw with a shudder of revulsion, there was a camera set up on a tripod.   
  
"Tell me, pilot 02," Hato said, stepping back into Duo's field of vision. "You seem to be somewhat familiar with the S.K.U.M. vids. I wonder if you've seen the lunar base slut series?"  
  
Duo just gave him a black glare. He knew enough to know which scene Hato was planning to reenact and that knowledge brought back all the old terror and dread. The feeling closed in on him worse when Hato stepped back and showed Duo what he'd been holding behind his back.  
  
It was a wide leather OZ uniform belt.  
  
Of all the scenes the bastards had made up, how had this guy chosen the one that had really happened?  
  
Hato took up his position beside the table and wrapped the end of the belt around his fist. It was the wrong end, Duo noted, trying not to show his panic. The big, sharp edged buckle swung free by Hato's knee, glinting evilly.   
  
That was going to leave some serious marks.  
  
"Now, my young friend, this is going to hurt quite a lot," Hato assured him. "We both know that, don't we? I do hope you won't try to be noble. My friends here have paid generously for our matinee show. I hope you'll give them their money's worth, both now and during the actual rapes."  
  
Duo struggled frantically against the ropes, knowing it was hopeless but unable to stop himself. All his worst nightmares were coming true. He looked back at the heavy wooden door, trying harder to see if it was the one to the cell. Some guy was manning the camera now.  
  
_//Heero! Heero, help me--//_  
  
Too late. The first lash of the belt burned across his back and tore a scream from his throat. Fuck, he must have gotten soft these past few years, he thought wildly. He never used to scream so soon!  
  
The audience cheered and clapped. Hato brought the belt down across his ass this time, and Duo struggled again, fighting back tears already. _//He wouldn't beg. He wouldn't beg. He'd never, ever begged . . .//_  
  
_//Oh my god, it's worse than I remember! Somebody help me!//_  
  
The belt ripped into him again, and again, and he could feel the hot trickle of blood down his hip. He thrashed against the pain, against the ropes, and the fingers of his left hand found a few tight knots. It was no use; he wasn't going to get those loose any time soon. He was going to get seriously hurt here, fucking serious, if he didn't figure out something, but what?  
  
Blow after blow slashed down, and in the midst of his agony, he had an inspiration. Not even waiting for the next strike, he opened his mouth and did something Duo Maxwell had sworn he would never, ever do.   
  
He just prayed Heero was on the other side of that door, and that he was listening!  
  
+  
  
Lost in confusion, unable to separate memory from the reality of his situation, trapped in the manacles, just as he had been before, Heero had still tried hard to stop the men when they'd stripped the clothing off Duo's limp, unconscious body and dragged him from the room. Two more of Hato's men hurried in and beat Heero down, kicking the breath from him and leaving him in a pain-wracked heap on the floor. The door slammed and locked. Heero staggered up and threw himself at it, but it only rattled on its heavy hinges.   
  
"Oh Duo! I'm so sorry!" he gasped, then collapsed next to Yuki.   
  
The boy was unconscious now, too. His face was pale, his skin clammy and moist. 'Shock,' Heero thought. He'd tied off the wound as best he could, and felt the shift of the shattered bone under his hands. There was nothing more he could do. There wasn't anything to splint the bone with.  
  
In an agony of desperation, Heero rose and paced the cell, listening for anything outside. At last he thought he heard clapping. Then he heard Duo scream.  
  
The sound cut through him like a knife and he threw himself at the door again. Another scream.  
  
"Duo! No! Leave him alone, you bastards! Don't hurt him!"  
  
He didn't remember it like this. It had been him being hurt. Duo had been safe, far away. He wasn't supposed to be here! Why the hell was he here?  
  
He pressed his ear to the door and heard what sounded like gunshots. No, it wasn't that. It was something else . . . Vague memories stirred again as Duo screamed again and again.  
  
They were whipping him! The lunar base . . . No, he hadn't heard it then . . .  
  
Duo's screams climbed higher, then words came.  
  
"Heero! Help me, Heero! Please, make them stop! Oh please god, make them stop hurting me! Heero, help me. Help me! Help me!"  
  
He'd never, ever heard Duo ask for help. Duo Maxwell had never begged in his life.  
  
"Stop it!" Heero cried out, shocked at how loud and deep his own voice sounded. "Stop hurting him! Stop it! I'll kill you, you bastards!" He pounded on the door again, and only when he saw the blood running down his wrists did he realize that the chain that had held the cuffs together had snapped. He'd snapped the links! His hands were free!   
  
He wasn't weak, or sick, or beaten down. Duo was the one being abused, and he was still screaming for help.   
  
Heero took a step back, examined the door latch, cataloging the mechanism, and then aimed a perfectly placed kick next to the handle.  
  
Duo heard the screech of metal over his own cries. The whipping abruptly stopped and suddenly men were yelling and running and guns were being fired. Duo couldn't get his head up far enough to really see what was going on, only that bodies were flying past him now, thrown like rag dolls.   
  
"Heero? Heero!"  
  
There was no answer, just more chaos, but Duo caught sight of his grim, inexorable lover breaking the neck of the guy with the eagle on his hand. The look on his face scared even Duo.  
  
The fighting didn't last long, and ended in more gunfire and the echoing sound of running feet.   
  
Then it was over and Heero was there, sawing at the ropes with one big-ass knife. He still had those metal cuffs on, and both hands were bloody. More blood spattered his face and chest and his eyes were wild.  
  
"Heero! Knew you'd get to me," Duo said, almost laughing with relief, in spite of the burning pain he felt from his back to his knees. Hato must have cut him up good with that fucking buckle!  
  
The ropes came loose at last and Heero literally scooped Duo up in his arms and half crushed him in a fierce embrace. "So sorry! I shouldn't ever have brought you here! Duo, forgive me!"  
  
Duo wiggled free enough to get Heero's face between his hands. "It's OK, baby. You saved me! I'm fine, really. They just roughed me up a little."  
  
"That's what you said last time!" Heero sobbed, still not letting Duo out of his arms. "You're bleeding!"  
  
"Yeah, well this time it's the truth," Duo replied, hugging him. "You saved me from that fate worse than death, Heero. Shinigami's honor. He just whipped my ass, that's all. Now we gotta get the fuck out of here! Some of them got away, right?"  
  
"Yes." And just like that, Heero was all mission mode again. He carried Duo back through the broken door of the cell and set him on his feet to examine the damage. Duo twisted around and grimaced. As he'd feared, the buckle had cut him, but it was more painful than serious. Heero helped him into his clothes.   
  
Duo felt one hundred percent better now that he was dressed, even with his shirt and jeans sticking to the blood. Hell, Shinigami could take a beating any day! He always could. All the same, he silently promised Heero Yuy endless foot rubs and blowjobs for breaking out of that cell when he had. Another few minutes . . .  
  
He shook off the black, soul sapping "what ifs" for now. It was time to go. He checked on the unconscious boy.  
  
"How is he?" asked Heero, checking the clip of a semi automatic rifle he'd captured.  
  
Duo felt the boy's pulse. "Not so good."  
  
"If we move him, he could die. But if we leave him, he will die." Heero hefted the skinny, limp body over his left shoulder easily. "You take the gun, 02."  
  
"I'll cover us," Duo agreed, checking the clip. It was half empty. Oh well, Heero had a knife. "Come on. Time to bug the fuck out!"  
  
He stepped to the door, only to have Heero yank him back as a shot ricocheted off the doorframe inches from his face.  
  
"You didn't think I'd let you go that easily, did you?" Hato called out from some distance away. His voice echoed around in the large room beyond.  
  
Duo peered out more cautiously. This was no basement. The room he'd been tied up in looked as big as a suit bay. The ceiling must have been a hundred feet up. There was some industrial-looking lighting up there, and Duo could make out what looked like metal catwalks and men moving around there.  
  
He pulled back, heart pounding. "This is no house, Heero. They must have moved Yuki somewhere else while he was asleep or something."  
  
Heero nodded. "A warehouse, maybe? I think we're under ground. I didn't see any sign of windows."  
  
Duo sighed. So they weren't home free yet. "Looks like we're going to have to fight our way out, huh?"  
  
Heero nodded again. "I'm really sorry, Duo."  
  
"No need, 'ro. I should have taken better care of you. But hey, we're more or less loose and armed. It ain't over 'til it's over, right? I'm thinking maybe we should leave the kid here for now, though, and come back for him. This'll probably get ugly."  
  
"Copy that." Heero gently placed the boy in the far corner of the room, well away from the open door. He looked so pathetic lying there, half naked and so weak, the shirt around his right arm soaked through with blood. Tears stung Duo's eyes; the kid probably wouldn't make it either way.  
  
"OK, 01. Ready to rock and roll?"  
  
"Ready. I'll go first and draw their fire. You spot the shooters and take them out."  
  
"Heero, no, wait!" Duo objected, but it was too late. Heero was already out the door, zigzagging across the huge open space beyond, and at least two shooters were already firing at him.  
  
Without a second thought, Duo followed, guns blazing.  
  
Well, gun, anyway.


	83. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

"Man, this is just like the old days!" Duo hissed as he and Heero ducked and dodged their way through a hail of gunfire and dashed headlong down some kind of badly lit, moldy smelling service corridor. It was narrow and low, with lots of exposed pipes and electrical panels. Shouting and gunfire followed them. Duo winced and ducked as a bullet creased his left shoulder, then spun around and fired back.   
  
"Bring it on, you cock suckers!" he screamed, maddened by the stitch of hot pain. "Shinigami's gonna punch your goddamn tickets!" He saw Hato and another man duck for cover. He was about to charge when half a dozen more showed up behind them.   
  
Heero grabbed him and dragged him away. "Come on, Duo! I think I know where I'm going!"  
  
Heero had taken out some of their pursuers in his initial rampage but there were still too many armed men after them. Duo could hear them running and shouting, Hato among them. His old motto, 'run and hide' seemed like their best bet at the moment, after all.   
  
+  
  
Wufei had commandeered the shotgun seat from Shiner, and clung to the handgrip as Nakamura drove like a madman for the harbor. Not a madman, but a suit pilot, Wufei amended, recognizing the single-minded focus in the Japanese investigator's tightly controlled actions. It made for an exciting ride. The Jagan took the corners like it was on magnarails and roared like doomsday on the straight-aways.  
  
They were within sight of the harbor again when Wufei's cell phone rang. He pulled it out and saw Sally's number on the display.  
  
"Shots fired at that address we gave you. I repeat, shots fired!" she shouted at him. "We're almost there, but Tzuki's picked up an alert on the local PD frequency. ETA?"  
  
"Almost there," Nakamura snapped, going into a half spin to avoid an early morning delivery truck backing from an alley.  
  
Minutes later they screeched to a halt next to half a dozen Preventer and police cars parked at all angles in front of the huge cannery building. Part of the street level had been converted into shops and offices. A young police officer was waiting for them outside an open loading bay. She looked dubiously at the newcomers clothing and mode of transportation, until Wufei yanked the badge from inside his shirt and thrust it in her face.   
  
"Where the hell are they?" he demanded, weapon already drawn.  
  
"Lower level, Captain. Go straight through the loading bay here and take the freight elevator down. Be careful, though. There's a firefight in progress."  
  
Wufei gave Nakamura and his boyfriend a quick nod. "Thanks for your help."  
  
He dashed through the loading bay to the elevator, sneakers slapping on the concrete paving. As he turned to hit the elevator control, Nakamura and Shiner ducked through the closing doors to join him.   
  
"You don't have to do this!" Wufei said, surprised.   
  
Nakamura shrugged as he and Shiner checked their pistols. "Zechs'll kick my ass if I let you run headlong into a firefight without any support." Wufei opened his mouth to protest but the man cut him off with a sharp look. "I wouldn't let any man in my command do a damn fool thing like that, 05. Shut up and stay sharp."  
  
Despite the long hair and leather overcoat, Wufei could see the combat officer the man had been. Shiner, too, for that matter. The cocky street manner was gone; he looked as sharp and deadly as Yuy ever had.  
  
They could hear scattered gunfire echoing up to them as they descended, but it was still distant. The car jolted to a halt and they fanned out in a dank concrete corridor, listening to get their bearings. More shots rang out to their left and they followed the sound.  
  
Wufei was in the lead as they burst through a pair of metal doors and nearly pitched headlong over the railing of a shaky metal catwalk overlooking a two or three story drop. A strong hand grabbed him by the back of his sweatshirt and he was hauled back into a pair of strong arms just as a bullet whizzed past his cheek from somewhere in the murky dimness beyond.  
  
"Let go!" Wufei hissed when Nakamura refused to let go. Then he was spun around and found himself glaring up into hard, ice blue eyes. "Zechs?"  
  
Zechs yanked him down onto the metal floor of the catwalk next to Nakamura and Shiner, who were already returning fire. "Keep your head down, Chang!"  
  
Wufei blinked at his lover for a shocked instant, taking in the jeans, leather jacket, and very large blaster rifle he was armed with. He had on a flak jacket under his coat and his pale hair was tied back under a bandana similar to the one Wufei had worn earlier.   
  
"Major Tzuki and Po are down there," he reported, as if he'd been part of the operation from the outset. "I stayed back to catch you three and bring you up to speed. I estimate at least a dozen armed men but resistance has fallen off sharply since the Preventers arrived. "  
  
"Any sign of 01 and 02?"  
  
"No sightings, but I suspect Heero was here. Check out the floor below."  
  
Wufei cautiously peered over the edge of the catwalk and saw at least half a dozen bodies sprawled like broken dolls on the floor far below, most of them near the room's only apparent furnishing, a large table. An overturned video camera and tripod lay next to it, and some professional looking lighting.   
  
A burst of automatic fire ripped the air somewhere down in the shadows below and a man screamed and staggered out into the circle of light to collapse. Two Preventer agents followed, holding their weapons on the fallen man.   
  
A few scattered shots pinged off the wall just over Wufei's head; there was still at least one shooter on the catwalk.   
  
Hunkered low, Wufei took the lead and charged off in the direction the shots had come from with the others close behind.   
  
A few more shots rang out, and then he heard the sound of feet pounding on metal. "Out of ammo, are you?" he muttered, increasing his pace to catch up.   
  
They ran down two tough looking ex-military types as they tried to make it to a power lift to the lower floor.   
  
"Preventers!" Wufei barked in Japanese, covering them with his pistol. "Stop where you are and put your hands up!"  
  
They did and he suddenly found himself with two unwanted prisoners and nothing to restrain them with. Shiner solved the problem, knocking both of them out with perfectly executed Wu Yi blows.  
  
"That's not Preventer procedure," Wufei muttered, impressed.  
  
Shiner gave him a quick grin. "I'm not a Preventer. C'mon, Captain, the action's down there."  
  
+  
  
  
Heero took a couple more turns, still dragging Duo along behind him, then yanked him sideways down an unlit corridor.  
  
"You did get away before, didn't you?" Duo whispered, finding Heero's shoulder and clinging to it. It was dark. Real dark. And it smelled really, really bad, sweet and rotten at the same time. Garbage, maybe?  
  
"I don't remember," Heero whispered back, leading him slowly forward. "I just know- Somehow I remember coming this way, only it wasn't so dark. There was a light. Something made me come this way. But it's--"   
  
Heero stopped abruptly and Duo collided with his back, gagging on the most horrendous stench. The floor was suddenly greasy and bumpy underfoot. He could hear and feel flies. They were thick and surrounded him in the darkness, threatening to get in his mouth and nose. His too empty belly seized and left him retching helpless even as he panicked and resisted the very real urge to climb onto Heero's shoulders. "Bodies!" he gagged out. "Corpses."  
  
Strong hands closed around Duo's arm, dragging him slipping and stumbling over what still felt like lumpy piles of garbage. The smell intensified and he felt moisture seeping through his shoes. Duo lost his footing and would have gone down if Heero hadn't had him in an iron grip. Even so, he stumbled and his out flung free hand brushed something cold and wet and _soft_. His belly tried to exit by way of his throat as images from his childhood closed in on him in the awful dark: during the plague time on L-2 bodies had lain rotting in the slum streets for days. No one cared enough about that part of the colony to come clean them up. Tiny, starved, panicked and alone, Duo had run through that nightmare landscape, trying to get stolen medications to his dying friends. The stench, the flies . . .  
  
Suddenly the darkness seemed to briefly explode with stars as someone slapped him hard.   
  
"Stay with me, 02!" Heero begged, dragging him on. "I know this is the way. It has to be!"   
  
Then they were past the horrors in the dark and the floor was clear and dry underfoot again. He could here Heero muttering to himself now, sounding almost as frantic as Duo felt. "This is the way. Has to be. Has to be. Where's the light? Red. Red light!"  
  
Then they smacked hard into what felt like a wall.  
  
"Dead end!" Duo moaned.  
  
"No! No, it can't be!" Heero cried.  
  
That painful comforting grip left Duo's arm and he heard Heero scrabbling around in the dark. "Heero, we gotta try and double back!" Duo told him, listening for sounds of pursuit in the dark and trying very hard not to think about running that gauntlet of horrors again.  
  
"No! This is it, I know it! Has to be the way! Where's are the lights? Red lights!" Heero sounded desperate and disoriented, and that only made Duo more scared. He fought his fear and tried to help, finding the wall and running his hands over it, seeking some sign of a door handle, a way out.  
  
Instead his fingers found the familiar jut of a light switch and without thinking he flipped it.  
  
Bright fluorescent light flooded the corridor, making them both blink. Heero stood panting and shaking in front of him, looking in apparent disbelief at a set of metal fire doors blocking the corridor. Over head Duo saw a glass-sided box sign mounted on the wall, the word "Exit" printed in big white letters on a red background in English and what he assumed was Japanese. Red lights. Exit signs. That's what Heero had followed that night, but they'd been turned off tonight.  
  
Heavy chains were looped through the steel handles of the fire doors, securing them shut. "I--I don't remember any doors," Heero said frantically, wrapping his bloodied hands in the chains and straining at them. But something was wrong with his left hand, Duo saw. That hand and wrist were dark and swollen so bad the edges of the metal restraint cuff were pressed into the skin.  
  
_//Damn, he must have broken his own wrist, getting free to save me!//_ thought Duo, reaching to stop him from making it any worse.  
  
"These doors weren't here!" Heero snarled, throwing his shoulder against them as if he could break through that way.  
  
"Oh, they were here. But I'd unwisely forgotten to secure them. We didn't think you had the strength to get away," Hato's cold voice said behind them.  
  
Duo turned and leveled his rifle in the direction of that voice. However, he nearly lost his grip on it when he saw what lay scattered along the floor between him and Hato's men.  
  
He'd been right about it being corpses. There were at least a dozen bodies in varying states of decomposition. Even so, Duo could see that they all must have resembled each other: young, thin, not too tall teenage boys, with dark hair cut into varying approximations of Heero's unruly cut. Some were even still wearing the remains of green tank tops or shreds of black spandex shorts. They all had on ugly yellow sneakers. A few were dried out husks of sagging skin and exposed bone. Others were bloated and oozing, flesh sloughing off and crawling with maggots and flies. Only the one closest to Hato still looked remotely human. He lay with his head turned in Duo's direction, his glazed, sightless eyes staring at him, one hand flung back as if he was asking for help.   
  
Beside him Heero let out a ragged snarl, then rushed past Duo, charging Hato and the men armed with nothing but the knife.   
  
"Heero, no! Get down!" Duo shouted, unable to get a clear shot with him in the way like that.  
  
But Heero didn't listen, and Duo watched helplessly as Hato raised his own gun and shot Heero down before he'd gotten within fifteen feet of him. Heero staggered a few feet more, then crumpled and went down among all those other "Heero Yuys" on the floor.  
  
Shinigami screamed and opened fire.  
  
+  
  
"You shouldn't be here!" Wufei growled at Zechs as they rode the power lift down to the warehouse floor.   
  
"Quatre and Trowa wanted me to come."  
  
Wufei just snorted and shook his head. There wasn't time for a fight about it. The lift reached the bottom and they looked around for signs of the others. There were several doors leading out of the bay, but one looked promising. Wufei noted that there were two dead men sprawled in front of it, lying on their backs in a way that suggested that someone fleeing this direction had shot back at them.  
  
Tzuki and Sally ran to meet them.   
  
"Looks like we've mopped up here, but Heero and Duo aren't here," Sally told him. "I think you better see this, though."  
  
She led him to a small, cell like room, where a boy who vaguely resembled Heero lay unconscious. He was wrapped up in several Preventer jackets, but Wufei could see the all too familiar green tank top and sneakers he had on, the bloodstained flannel shirt wrapped around the kid's upper arm.   
  
"He's been badly abused and shot," Sally told him. "A med team's on the way, but I don't know if he'll make it."   
  
"Raped?"  
  
Sally nodded grimly. One of the jackets must be hers. She had on a borrowed flak like Zechs's over her uniform blouse.  
  
"The vid equipment," Wufei said softly, not liking his own train of thought. "He was supposed to be Heero?"  
  
He ran out and grabbed the camera from one of the cops. He rewound the tape a bit, then put it into replay mode and peered in the eyepiece.   
  
It wasn't the boy on film, but Duo, tied naked over the table beside Wufei while a man beat him with a belt. There was no sound but the expression of anguish on Duo's face and the sight of those silent screams almost made him drop the camera. He glanced down and saw the severed ropes still looped around the legs. Looking back into the eyepiece, he forced himself to watch again. Duo was really struggling now, then suddenly both he and the man beating him froze. The scene was confused after that. Men ran through the shot, jostling the camera and knocking it off its focus on the table. Then Heero came briefly into focus, looking like a blood spattered avenging angel. The shot tilted crazily after that and went black, no doubt when someone had knocked it over.  
  
Wufei shut it off and handed it to the nearest Preventer. "Bag and seal this. No one is to touch it again until we get it back to forensics. Sally, they're here. I saw them on the tape. Has this area been thoroughly searched?"  
  
"Yes, they're not here and according to one of the prisoners, neither is the ringleader, Hato."  
  
"Come on, I think I know which way they went."  
  
Wufei set off at a dead run for the corridor he'd noted before. Springing over the bodies there, he hurried on, ignoring the shouts from Sally and Zechs. She was yelling something about procedure, but right now Wufei could care less about that. Procedure had gotten them here too late. He wasn't a Preventer anymore, but 05, friend of 01 and 02.   
  
The sound of gunfire ahead confirmed his suspicions and he ran harder, gripping his pistol with the safety off. Rounding a bend in the corridor, he nearly barreled into a knot of armed men at the mouth of a secondary passageway. The smoke of a firefight hung on the air, with the smell of gunpowder and some other strong disagreeable stench.  
  
The armed men opened fire at him and Wufei returned it, dropping all five. He was about to investigate around the corner when a burst of automatic fire sent them all ducking back. He was grabbed again and found Sally and Zechs glaring at him.   
  
"Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?" Zechs growled. "God damn it, 05, use your backup!"  
  
Another burst of gunfire rattled against the far wall. "Come on, ya fuckers! Is that all ya got?" a hoarse male voice screamed out at them, but this time it was in English.  
  
"Duo?" Wufei called back. "Duo, it's me. Wufei. We took out the enemy on this end. What's your status?"  
  
"Wufei?"   
  
There was no answer but a loud, metallic clatter like a weapon being dropped and the sound of a choked sob that sounded like "Heero!"  
  
Wufei approached cautiously and peered around the corner. What lay beyond was like something out of a horror movie.  
  
There were bodies everywhere. Some of them were men, newly fallen, but there were other bodies, the rotting corpses of children, and Duo was kneeling right in the midst of them, covered in blood and wracked with heartbreaking sobs as he cradled Heero's limp, bloody body in his arms.  
  
"Oh god, no!" Wufei gasped, dropping his gun and stumbling over the bodies of the gunmen to get to him. "No, please god, no!" He hardly noticed them, or the stench or anything else. All he could think of was to get to Duo and prove his own worse fears wrong. Heero was shot, he was only hurt, and Duo was scared . . .  
  
"05, Zechs, GUN!" Sally yelled behind him.   
  
Startled, unarmed, Wufei turned and barely had time to register that Zechs was right behind him, having followed him, and that one of the fallen gunmen was very much alive and aiming a large pistol straight at them. With reflexes born of love and training rather than reason, he pushed Zechs behind him to shield his lover. The shooter fired and the first round hit Wufei square in the chest. Then something heavy hit him from the side and he was falling, falling into darkness, followed by the fading sound of Zechs frantically calling his name.  
  
Wufei's last conscious thought was, "He's alive. I protected him."


	84. Intensive Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei flat-lined twice in the ambulance and all Zechs could do was watch helplessly from the gurney they had him strapped to. It was the single worst experience of his life, watching his little love die again and again.  
  
Little love.  
  
Little fool!  
  
_//I had a vest on, Wufei! Where was yours?//_  
  
The paramedics brought Wufei back each time, but Zechs heard the warning tone again as they wheeled Wufei away from him at the emergency room.   
  
"Please stay still, sir," Zechs's attendants warned as he'd tried to free himself to follow.   
  
"No, let me go with him!" Zechs rasped, still trying to get up. His ruined left arm was a dead thing, dragging him down. He hadn't felt any pain when the bullets tore into his cybernetic limb, just a dull sense of shock and heat, and then the weight of it as it had shorted out and reverted to so much useless metal. The pain had come when one shot found the meat of his shoulder above the locking ring and tore out the delicate circuitry implanted there.  
  
"Lay still, sir. You're still bleeding. You need surgery immediately or you could lose the rest of that arm."  
  
Zechs still tried to fight but a nurse injected a stronger sedative into his IV line and the world began to fade. The last thing he saw was a group of nurses and security guards wrestling Duo back onto a gurney. The long-haired boy was swearing and crying, trying to get to the rolling bed whisking Heero away in the same direction Wufei had been taken.  
  
+  
  
  
Trowa's injured leg ached from all the pacing he'd done since Zechs left the day before. Merquise had called only once, reporting that he'd joined up with Sally and the Preventers who were looking for Heero and Duo. Wufei had been away on some other covert action with Zechs's contact, Nakamura.   
  
Quatre promised Trowa that he was keeping his mental shields up, but Trowa kept a close eye on him all the same, knowing the temptation it must be for his worried, kind-hearted partner to reach out toward the others. Kat's last impressions from Heero had been deep confusion.  
  
Trowa had spent the night dozing in a chair at Quatre's bedside and woke when the doctor came in early the next morning to supervise the removal of the regeneration units from Kat's leg and right arm. The fractures there were simple ones and had responded well to the treatment. Light splints were applied for the rest of the process. The compound fractures in Quatre's left radius and ulna and the burns on his back would take more time, but he was delighted to be able to do away with the cervical block at last.  
  
"It's imperative that he remain calm," the doctor warned Trowa. "These episodes of his?"  
  
"He can control them now that his mind is clear," Trowa assured him, but secretly he was still worried. Quatre's link to Heero was very strong.  
  
"Don't worry, I've got my defenses up," Quatre promised again, but he made Trowa keep the news channel on, watching for any word of their friends.   
  
The day dragged on. Quatre seemed to be resting comfortably, despite his worried state. Neither of them could really relax. Trowa was eating an early supper beside Quatre's bed when his husband suddenly caught his breath and squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain.  
  
"Trowa!" His fingers twitched and Trowa covered them with his own, shocked at how cold his love's skin was. "What is it, meli?"  
  
"Something--something bad!"   
  
Trowa checked the clock on the wall. It would be early morning in Japan now.  
  
Quatre shuddered and opened his eyes. "Turn the news back on, Tro."  
  
There were no reports, but within half an hour Trowa's phone rang. He checked the number but didn't recognize it. "Hello?"  
  
"Trowa, it's Sally Po."  
  
Trowa swallowed hard. "Something's happened, right?"  
  
"Everyone is alive," she assured him quickly, "but--"  
  
"Who's down?" Trowa demanded, aware of Quatre's concerned gaze fixed on his face. He put the phone on speaker and held it in his lap so Quatre could hear.  
  
"All of them," she told them. "Merquise, too. There was a firefight. They were all shot."  
  
"All of them?" Trowa leaned forward and rested his hand on Quatre's forehead to keep him still. "Status?"  
  
"Zechs and Duo aren't too bad, but--" Trowa could hear her fighting for control. Quatre let out a soft moan, and those wide blue eyes filled with tears.  
  
"Heero and Wufei are both in critical condition. Heero has multiple gunshot wounds to his chest and abdomen. Wufei was shot once in the chest-it could have been worse. Zechs got in front of him and blocked the other shots, but not before--" Her voice broke. "Wufei was shot at point blank range. It grazed his heart, pierced a major artery. Zechs was wearing a vest. Wufei wasn't. If I'd only realized--" She broke off again and now they could hear her crying. "I'm sorry. They're all in surgery right now, here at Tokyo general."   
  
Within minutes of hanging up the first reports showed up as breaking news on CNN.  
  
"Are you sure you're ready for this, corazon?" Trowa asked.  
  
"Leave it on," Quatre whispered, eyes never leaving TV screen attached to the wall at the foot of his bed. There, a Japanese reporter stood in front of what looked like an old factory.  
  
"This is Kate Kurazawa reporting live from Kizarazu, Japan. Just after dawn a massive shoot out took place in the large structure you see behind me. Reports are still confused, but it appears to have been a joint action between the Preventers and local police against a child pornography ring. Twenty-two armed men have been captured or shot. At least five Preventer agents were injured in the fight. All are listed in critical condition. No names have been released yet."  
  
"One of the men apprehended, said to be the ring leader, is Heidiki Hato. According to local sources, he is a scriptwriter for an international pornographic film company based in Tokyo, just across the harbor. The owner, Raphael Conte, has not responded to our questions, but his lawyers have already issued a statement, claiming that Hato's activities here are completely unrelated to his--"   
  
The reporter paused, listening to some new information over her earphone. "I've just been informed that the bodies of at least a dozen young boys have been discovered in the basement of this structure, together with a huge collection of what can only be described as rape and torture vids. Local authorities have already declared Hato a serial killer, linking him to the disappearance of a number of homeless children in this area."  
  
She turned and the camera zoomed in on a police captain. "Captain Ito, can you give us any details about what went on here today?"  
  
The officer was stoic but looked shaken. "I am not at liberty to release details of the raid, but I can confirm that eleven bodies of young boys were found in the basement of the complex. Clearly they are victims of murder."  
  
"Can you identify the agents wounded in this raid, sir?"  
  
"Not at this time."  
  
"Can you at least comment on the rumor that Heero Yuy and Chang Wufei came out of retirement to rejoin Preventers for this action, and that they were among the wounded?"  
  
"Not at this time."   
  
"Does this have any connection to the fact that the pornographic films produced by Conte and Hato used the Gundam pilots as characters and victims? Something called the 'Gundam Slut Killers Under Men' films, I believe?"  
  
"Oh god!" Trowa moaned.   
  
"I cannot confirm anything at this time," the captain gritted out and walked away.  
  
She turned and buttonholed a tall, very handsome man in a black leather overcoat. "You, sir, were you also involved in the raid?"  
  
"Only as a consultant," the man replied. "This was a Preventer operation and the men I interfaced with were outstanding."   
  
"Can you give us any names, Mr.--?"  
  
"Nakamura Masa, private investigator. That's my name, and the only one I'm authorized to divulge, sweetheart. You heard the captain." Smirking, he moved off camera.  
  
+  
  
Zechs came to later with his head full of cotton and his left shoulder on fire. Opening his eyes, he found himself propped up in a hospital bed in a dimly lit room. He was a one-armed man again, his left shoulder swathed in thick bandages under the empty sleeve of his thin hospital gown.   
  
"How ya feeling?" a hoarse voice asked.  
  
Turning his head was an effort, he found Duo huddled in a chair next to his bed. He had on a thin hospital gown and robe, too, and his right arm was secured across his chest in a canvass sling. His braid was a tangled mess, still caked here and there along its length with dried blood.  
  
"You--you were hit, too?" Zechs rasped.  
  
"Caught a couple before you showed up," Duo croaked. "Went through clean, though. I'm OK. Except they won't let me see Heero yet."  
  
"You shouldn't be up."  
  
"Hurts worse to lie down." Duo jerked a thumb at another bed across the room. "Figured I'd keep an eye on you. You've been moaning a lot, calling for 'fei. What's that other name you call him? May?"  
  
"Mei. It means beautiful."  
  
"Yeah?" Duo grinned at that. "Sometimes it sounded like you were kinda mad at him, too, though. You kept yelling about that vest."  
  
Zechs struggled to sit up, and winced at the renewed wave of pain. "Damn right I am! He went into a high-risk situation without a flak--" His dry throat seized up and he doubled over with a coughing fit.  
  
Duo passed him a glass of water from the bedside table. "Want me to call a nurse? You look like you could use some meds."  
  
Zechs sipped at it gratefully and shook his head. "No. Where are Heero and Wufei?"  
  
"Heero's in the recovery room. They won't let anyone in there. The nurse said-" Duo swallowed hard and wiped quickly at his eyes. "The nurse said he's not in such good shape. Wufei's still in surgery, I guess. He took one in the chest, huh?"  
  
Zechs slumped down on the pillows, blinking back tears.   
  
Duo shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Don't be mad at Wufei. It's all my fault. I should have stopped Heero from going in the first place, but I didn't. I just got so caught up with it all and--and--"  
  
Zechs raised his remaining hand, cutting short the apology. "No one's fault, except those men. Those bodies I saw when we found you? Looked like they were dressed like 01, back in the war."  
  
"Yeah. That Hato creep had been doing nasty, sick shit for a while. Heero was just one that got away."  
  
"You and Heero, are you all right? I mean, did they-- hurt you?"  
  
"They were going to, but Heero got loose and raised hell before they could. Saved my ass. Literally."  
  
"Thank god!" Zechs struggled up in bed and found that aside from his shoulder, he was perfectly all right. He felt awkward and unbalanced, though. He'd adjusted so quickly to the new arm that he felt it's loss keenly now. But he managed to get himself out of bed and to the restroom to empty his aching bladder without assistance. Bracing himself against the sink, he washed his hand and studied his reflection. Apart from the discoloration that showed around the edges of his shoulder bandages, he was fine. Or so he told himself until he made himself take an honest look and read the deep fear in his own eyes.  
  
"Oh Wufei!" he whispered as tears tracked down his cheeks. "Fight, mei! Fight to stay with me and I'll never, ever let you go."  
  
He got himself under control and emerged from the bathroom to find Duo curled up in a ball in the chair, shoulders shaking.  
  
Zechs knelt awkwardly and put his arm around him, not knowing quite what reaction to expect. Far from rebuffing the offered comfort, Duo slumped against him and sobbed against his neck. Zechs held him as best he could, stroking the dirty braid. Duo was so thin, so lost. And yet Zechs knew the strength there; he'd seen him in action.  
  
They stayed like that for some time, until Duo calmed down again and Zechs's knees were aching. He was about to get up when they heard a commotion outside. An harried-looking young doctor hurried in.  
  
"Mr. Maxwell? Oh good, you're already up. Mr. Yuy is coming out of the anesthesia badly. He's disoriented and violent. He won't listen to anyone. He's demanding to see you."  
  
"Seriously? Violent?" Duo staggered up, grinning like he'd just won the lottery. "Hot damn, that's my Heero! He's OK."  
  
+  
  
He'd been drugged, that much Heero was certain of. The rest was confusion. He looked for OZ uniforms, but the medical staff who were trying to restrain him wore no military insignia. He tried to get up, but his body was not cooperating. Something was pressing on his chest and his left wrist. He managed to tear out the monitor wires and IV lines they'd attached to him, but he couldn't get up or make his eyes to focus.   
_  
//Duo. Duo was on this mission with me---wasn't he?//_  
  
That didn't make any sense, either, but somehow he was certain Duo should be here. He tried to yell for him but his chest and throat hurt so badly it came out a hoarse whisper.   
  
More men in white tried to hold him and the pain grew worse. Something was wrong with his body; he was in pain and bleeding. That didn't change the fact that he had to find Duo--  
  
He grayed out at some point, and when he came around again Duo was there, sitting beside his bed in the too bright room, stroking his hair. Duo was a hospital bathrobe and his arm was in a sling. Hospital. They were in a hospital, Heero though, clinging to that bit of information. The weight on his chest was a regen unit. Straps were fastened across his chest and thighs to keep him in place. His left wrist and hand were encased in a cast. They'd been hurt and they were in a hospital where people spoke Japanese.  
  
"It's OK, baby, I'm here! You're safe," Duo was whispering hoarsely. "Lie still and let them put the lines back in, please? Let 'em fix you up, baby. You just have to stay in the regen a little while. It helps, really. They did it for me, too, just a couple of hours and I'm already up on my feet, see? Don't fight anymore, baby. We're safe. We got the bad guys! You totally kicked ass, 'ro. Remember? We got Hato and his fuckers, Heero. No more nasty-grams. No more vids."  
  
Heero blinked at him as his heart rate slowly returned to normal, trying to figure out what he was talking about. What bad guys?  
  
Then all the memories came crashing back in on him. All those boys dressed like him. Killed in his place. Killed out of some sick need for vengeance against him. And Duo, screaming for help. He moaned and clasped Duo's shoulder, found the braid and brought it to his cheek.   
  
It was dirty, and smelled like all the death they'd found in that corridor. He dropped it with another low moan, mourning the loss of that bit of comfort.  
  
"I know, 'ro. I'm sorry, baby. I'll wash it as soon as they let me," Duo murmured. He brought Heero's right hand to his lips and kissed it, holding his attention as a nurse timidly approached and reattached the lines he'd torn free.   
  
"Oh god, Duo. All those children!" Heero gasped.   
  
"Not your fault, baby."  
  
Another pang of panic shot through him. "Yuki! Did anyone find Yuki? We just left him there!"  
  
"He's OK, baby. He's here at the hospital and they're taking good care of him."  
  
Heero let out a shaky breath, then shook his head. "I got you shot."  
  
"I got me shot, and you, too," Duo growled, kissing his palm. "You were sick. You were flashing back to all kinds of shit and I didn't drag your ass out of there in time. I messed up, baby. Please, forgive me?"  
  
The pain and guilt in his lover's voice broke Heero's heart all over again, distracting him from his own guilt. "Nothing to forgive. I wanted you for my wingman and you were. I never would have broken out of those cuffs if it hadn't been for you."  
  
"You're both complete idiots and you're coming back home to New Orleans as soon as I can make the doctors release you."   
  
"Trowa!"  
  
The lanky acrobat stood in the recovery room doorway, leaning on a silver topped cane. A surgical mask covered his lower face, but his green eyes were full of emotion and he limped over to them and leaned down to gently embrace them both. "Idiots!" he said again, the voice muffled against Duo's shoulder far rougher than his touch.   
  
Heero reached up and wiped at the tears rolling down Trowa's cheeks to soak the edge of the mask. He didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing Trowa cry. "I'm sorry, Trowa-"  
  
"Shut up!" Trowa muttered, burying one hand in Heero's hair and the other in Duo's. "God damn it, just shut up and get better!"  
  
"Where's Kat?" asked Heero, too glad to see him to be intimidated.  
  
"Where do you think? Still in ICU, but he wouldn't leave me alone until I came over to see you. Some of Zechs's men are watching him, along with most of the New Orleans PD and Preventers branch office. Oh, and Rashid is still camped out downstairs in the hospital lobby."  
  
"Damn. Guess nothing's gonna get to him this time, huh?" chuckled Duo.  
  
Trowa pulled back and gave them both a dark look. "The only thing that's been 'getting to him' is you two. I swear, if I didn't love you both so fucking much, I'd---" He broke off and wiped at his eyes. "No more stunts. No more running off. You hear me?"  
  
Heero nodded. "I hear you. I promise you, it's over."  
  
+  
  
With Duo gone, Zechs felt cold and sick again. He got into bed and pulled up the blankets, but it didn't help. He couldn't relax and he couldn't lie still. He found the call button pinned to the side of the bed and pressed it.   
  
An orderly appeared almost instantly. "Yes, Mr. Peacecraft? Are you in pain?"  
  
"I need to know the exact status of Agent Chang!" he gritted out, trying to quell another fit of chills. He was probably coming down with a post op fever, he realized, but didn't care.  
  
"I don't know, sir--"   
  
"Then fucking get me someone who _does!_ " Zechs barked in a voice that had tightened the sphincters of decorated field officers twice his age. "Now!"  
  
The unfortunate orderly fled and Zechs forced himself from the bed again, seeking warmer clothing. The closet held nothing but another of those useless cotton robes. He struggled into it anyway, only to be utterly defeated by the belt tie. Damn, but he'd gotten used to having two working arms again! He kicked a plastic wastebasket furiously across the room. It did nothing to calm his nerves and he felt something tear painfully under his bandages. Looking down, he saw a red stain seeping through the shoulder of his robe.  
  
"Fuck!"  
  
"Mr. Peacecraft! Calm yourself at once." The authority in that voice rivaled Zechs's own outburst and froze him in his tracks. A gray-haired man still dressed in bloodstained surgical scrubs strode across the room and guided him down on Duo's abandoned bed. "You must calm yourself. Harming yourself will do nothing to help Mr. Chang and only delay your own recovery."  
  
"Are you his surgeon?" Zechs demanded.  
  
"Yes. I am Dr. Minako. The initial surgery is completed and Mr. Chang is resting under heavy sedation. It is in fact a medically induced coma. It is necessary to allow him to begin to heal, if he can."  
  
"If?"  
  
"The wound is a very serious one, requiring several arterial grafts. He will need extensive regen therapy, if we can keep him stabilized."  
  
"You keep saying if!" Zechs exclaimed. The trembling was worse now. It was even affecting his voice.  
  
Dr. Minako sighed and pulled up a chair. "Agent Chang's Preventer records list Sally Po as acting next of kin, but she has made it clear that this information is outdated. She says you are the one who should have family level access. Officially this hospital cannot grant you that, however, unless you are--" He paused, polishing a pair of old fashioned steel rimmed glasses and settling them on his nose. "Domestic partners?"  
  
Zechs sank his face in his hand. "Yes! No. That is, we will be. I was going to ask him, as soon as all this was over."  
  
"I see." He paused again and Zechs felt his desperation rising. "Well then," Minako said at last. "I suppose that would make you his fiance. I'll have the necessary paperwork drawn up for you to sign."  
  
Zechs looked up in surprise and found the doctor smiling kindly at him. "Dr. Po says the bond between you and Agent Chang is very strong. I've been in medicine long enough, Mr. Peacecraft, to know the difference that sort of support can make in a patient's chances of recovery."  
  
"You're telling me he's not in the clear yet, aren't you?"  
  
"As I said, it is a very serious wound. Even with regeneration treatment, he may have some weakness in that area for life. I hope you are prepared for a difficult road ahead."  
  
"Anything, doctor. I can face anything but death."  
  
Dr. Minako patted his knee. "Good. Then if you promise not to frighten my orderlies and nurses anymore, I will call for a wheelchair and you can see him."  
  
Zechs didn't have the strength left to argue. He let the timid orderly help him into a wheelchair and roll him through the hallways to a small observation room in Cardiac ICU. On the other side of a glass wall Wufei lay in a railed bed. A white regen unit covered his chest. A breathing tube was inserted down his throat and even through the glass Zechs could hear the steady wheeze of the oxygen pump. Those bare, golden arms lay limp on the sheet that covered him, with monitors, IV lines and transfusion tubes snaking from both. His face was slack and pale beneath the oxygen mask. Zechs leaned his forehead against the glass and pressed his palm to it, longing to hold him. Wufei, his little warrior love, looked like a broken doll now, or a wounded child.   
  
"Oh, Wufei!" he whispered, heedless of the tears rolling down his cheeks now. "Don't leave me."  
  
He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he found Duo beside him.  
  
"Why aren't you with Heero?"  
  
"I was. They finally got him sedated and strapped down. He's asleep for a while, and Trowa's sitting with him. I just--uh--well, I figured maybe you could use some company?"  
  
He hooked a chair over with his foot and sat down beside Zechs, then took his hand and held it. He was looking at Wufei, not him as he asked, "How's he doing?"  
  
"Not very well, according to the doctor. It's still touch and go," Zechs replied honestly. "God, Duo, I can't help thinking that if I hadn't been there, distracting him--"  
  
The grip on Zechs's hand tightened painfully. "No, you can't do that to yourself, man. It was Heero and me that put him there. You saved him with that nifty arm of yours. He'd be dead if you hadn't taken him down when you did."  
  
"But--"  
  
Duo turned to him, capturing him with those big, expressive violet blue eyes. There was no suspicion there anymore, just sad understanding. "Look, I didn't think I'd ever hear myself say this, but you're the best damn thing that's ever happened to Wufei. He knows it. I know it. Hell, everyone knows it." He gave Zechs's hand a last squeeze and stood up. "So you heal up and look after him for us. We got some serious damn partying to do back in New Orleans when you're both back on your feet, right?"  
  
Zechs swallowed hard and nodded. "Thank you, Duo."  
  
"De nada, Zechsy. Save me a dance at your wedding."  
  
"If you'll save me one at yours," Zechs replied, managing a small smile.  
  
Duo blushed and ducked his head. "Yeah, well-- I better get back to Heero. Take care, buddy."  
  
Zechs held up until Duo was gone, then sank his face in his hand again. "Get well, love, please!"  
  
+  
  
Heero was out cold now. Duo sat with him for a while, aching all over and feeling lonesome and useless. When he couldn't stand it any more, he walked slowly out to the nurse's station, trying to loosen up his muscles.  
  
"English?" he asked the pretty young nurse behind the desk.  
  
"Yes, Maxwell-sama. What do you need?"  
  
"Something for pain, but nothing that'll knock me on my-" He caught himself. Ever since that morning he'd woken up wrapped around Zechs and they'd teased him about how much he swore, he'd been trying to clean up his act a little. He guessed he'd been slipping up again, these past few days. "Can you give me something that won't make me sleepy?" he amended.  
  
She pulled his chart and consulted it, then sent another nurse off for some pills.   
  
Duo downed them right there at the desk. "Thanks."   
  
He hesitated, and she gave him a questioning look. "Something else, Maxwell-sama?"  
  
He grinned, embarassed by the elevated title everyone kept giving him around here. "Please, just call me Duo, OK? I'm no sama, believe me."  
  
She gave him a little seated bow. "As you wish, Duo-san."  
  
Oh well, it was a little better, he supposed. "Look, I was just wondering about that kid they brought in with us. Yuki? I don't know what his full name is."  
  
"Oh yes. He is on the twelfth floor, in pediatrics."  
  
"Can he have visitors?"  
  
The nurse checked her computer. "I'm not sure. You should check with the desk nurse there. He's in the psychiatric unit there."  
  
"I bet," Duo said sadly. "Twelfth floor? Thanks. Oh, and could you page me or something if Heero wakes up and starts making trouble again?"  
  
"Of course, Duo-san. But perhaps you should be using a wheelchair, or a walking frame?"  
  
"No!" Duo said a little too quickly. He was more like Heero than he liked to admit. If you were dumb enough to let yourself get shot, you should just suck it up and get yourself better. No coddling. Of course, that only went for him; he'd coddle Heero like crazy and the knucklehead could just deal with it.  
  
He held himself up as straight as he could on the way to the elevator, knowing the nice nurse was probably watching. He made it there, and let himself slump against the wall as the lift carried him up.   
  
The pediatric ward was nice, with lots of bright colors and toys lying around. He found the desk and someone who spoke some English. He didn't have to introduce himself. The young male nurse jumped up and bowed to him at once. "Welcome, Maxwell-sama! What can I do for you?"  
  
_//Here we go again,//_ thought Duo. Screw it, he was too tired to have that argument again. "I'd like to see Yuki, the boy who was brought in with us?"  
  
"Oh, yes. Very sad."  
  
Duo clutched the edge of the desk. "He didn't die, did he?"  
  
"No, Maxwell-sama, but he is not well. A very sad case."  
  
"Does he have any family? Has anyone come to see him?"  
  
"No. I believe the police are looking into the matter. For now he is a ward of the state."  
  
"Can I see him?"  
  
The nurse made a call to someone, then led him to a locked ward down the hall. Inside, it was still bright and colorful and kid friendly, but the doors were all locked and had reinforced glass observation ports. Duo shivered a little, knowing what it was like to be sick enough to be confined behind doors like that.   
  
Yuki looked smaller than Duo remembered, lying there in the clean white bed. He was clean now, and someone had combed his hair in such a way that he didn't look so much like Heero now. His right arm was in a big cast. Someone had put some colorful stickers on it, to cheer him up, probably. Didn't look like it was working, though. He lay there, staring out the window, and seemed to hardly notice when Duo pushed the soft, heavy armchair up to his bed and sat down. This room was bright and nice, just like the ward outside, but there was nothing lying around loose for him to hurt himself with, except a big blue stuffed rabbit lying on the floor by the bed. Oh yeah, Duo knew these kinds of rooms.  
  
"Hey kid, you doing ok?" he asked, then remembered that Yuki didn't speak any English. "Damn-I mean, darn. Guess we're not going to have a real long conversation, huh?" He smiled, hoping the tone of his voice would be enough. The kid glanced at him briefly, but his eyes were dull and showed no recognition. Duo tried again. "Remember me, Yuki-kun? 02? Maxwell-sama? No? Duo-san?"  
  
But it was like the kid had never seen him before, even when Duo held up his braid for him to see. "Hang on, I'll be right back."  
  
He went out and found a nurse who spoke English. Even with her translating, though, Yuki just lay there, looking like he didn't care about anything.   
  
"His mind has retreated," the nurse tried to explain. She wasn't fluent, obviously. "He does not speak, or respond to anyone. Very sad case, yes?"  
  
"Yes," Duo replied, sad for Yuki, but also unable to help thinking of Heero. "Is this what you call a fugue state?"  
  
The nurse didn't know that word, though. Defeated, Duo turned to go, then turned back. He picked up the stuffed rabbit and tucked it into bed with Yuki, under his undamaged left arm. The kid flinched violently at his touch and pushed it off the bed again, staring up at Duo with wide, terrified black eyes.  
  
Duo backed off quickly, automatically holding his hands up where Yuki could see them. "Sorry, kid, sorry! Nurse, please tell him I was just trying to help. I wouldn't hurt him."  
  
She leaned down and translated quickly, but it didn't get much of a reaction.  
  
"Do not worry, Maxwell-sama," she told him. "He is sick and does not know anyone. In time, perhaps, he will get better. Perhaps you should go now, so he can rest?"  
  
"Yeah, OK." Duo gave the kid a last sad smile, then went back to Heero.  
  
Heero appeared to be sleeping, but opened his eyes as soon as Duo sat down beside him. "You OK, Duo?" he asked, sounding muzzy and drugged.  
  
Duo took his hand and kissed it. "Yeah, I'm fine, baby. How 'bout you?"  
  
"Healing," Heero mumbled, eyelids fluttering shut again. "Miss you. Get in bed."  
  
"Can't, baby. You're still to racked up. But I'll stay right here, OK? You go back to sleep now. I love you, baby." _//And I'm so fucking sad to think you ever looked the way Yuki does right now! And that you didn't have anyone to help you or save you! You were so alone!//_  
  
Damn it, now he was crying, and knew it was Heero and Yuki and all those dead boys he'd scrubbed off his skin but never out of his memory. And Hato had survived, damn him. Duo had tried to kill him, tried damn hard, and saw him go down, but it turned out he'd fucked that up, too. Hato had put a bullet in Wufei, too, before Zechs had blown the guy's head off. Duo kept a tight grip on Heero's hand, trying not to think of anything for a while. Everyone was alive. That was something to cling to. Nothing else mattered right now.


	85. Twisted Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Trowa had brought clothing and essentials for everyone. Heero and Wufei were both still too out of it to need much, but Duo was glad to be in his own baggy tees and sweats and the blue and red silk "orgy suite" bathrobe Heero had gotten him from Sanque. It was the only one he'd ever owned and he didn't care if it got him curious looks in the hallways as he wandered around looking in on Yuki and his friends, and working the stiffness from his wounds. The sling was in an inconvenience, so he took it off, ignoring the nurses's objections. The regen treatment they'd given him in the recovery room yesterday, along with his own natural stubbornness, was helping him heal.   
  
Zechs was in better shape than any of them. He got dressed in jeans and one of those classy shirts Tro had brought with his luggage. He sat in that glassed in observation room day and night, as if he could will Wufei into pulling through by sheer faithful presence. Oh, he read lots of books and newspapers, but Duo could tell that he was mostly just sitting there, willing his lover better. Duo and Trowa spent some time with him and Zechs was pleasant, but distracted. Under that mask of control, Duo sensed the man's very real desperation.   
  
Heero was a very fast healer and a really bad patient, just like the old days. The doc had removed the regen units that morning and that's when the trouble started. After a few ill-advised efforts to prove that he was well enough to be out of bed-- all of which ended in falls and torn sutures-- the doctor ordered Heero restrained and sedated. As Heero's legally designated next of kin, Duo had to agree to this, and though he felt like a traitor doing it, he signed the form, on the condition that he was Heero's roommate until he was better.   
  
Duo signed the release in part because he knew how stubborn Heero could be, but there was also something in his lover's manner during those escape attempts that had set off alarm bells in the back of Duo's mind. Heero was his usual grim and determined self, but also a little distant, maybe even disoriented. Duo had learned his lesson when it came ignoring signs of flashbacks. Even sedated, Heero dreamed and from the fleeting expressions and frantic mutterings, Duo knew they weren't happy ones.  
  
So first thing their second morning in the hospital Duo called Dr. Batoosingh. The doc was already aware of their situation and offered to come down to Tokyo before Duo even got a chance to ask him. It would take him a couple of days to clear his schedule, he said. In the meantime he would look over the medical reports and blood work. Just hearing that calm voice on the phone made Duo feel better.  
  
+  
  
To Duo's surprise, Trowa hung around, supposedly to help to oversee their care, though as far as Duo could tell, he was mostly just fretting. Quatre kept in touch several times a day by vid phone and seemed perfectly happy to share his husband like this. Duo didn't think he could have been as generous, but then, this was Kat they were talking about.   
  
Tro was steady and helpful as ever, but Duo was picking up on a thinly veiled undercurrent of tension, just like he'd felt when Trowa first showed up. He knew their green-eyed friend was pretty ticked off that he and Heero had taken off on their own, and Duo guessed he was also pretty pissed off that they'd ripped off his stash of illegal arms. That could have gotten them all in some seriously deep shit if Sally and Wufei hadn't somehow covered it up; Duo didn't have the whole story about that, and from the way Sally dodged his questions when she visited, he probably wasn't going to get it, but he suspected that strings had been pulled and favors called in at a very high level. He figured Preventers must still owe Heero Yuy big time.   
  
Duo felt really bad about the whole weapons thing. Hell, they hadn't even used most of it in the end. He tried repeatedly to apologize to both Tro and Kat. Quatre just brushed it off in his usual kind fashion. Trowa, however, didn't say a word and that silence was worse than getting yelled at.  
  
When Quatre called them on the vid that evening, Duo was thrilled to see that he was sitting up. "Hey, no more regen units? Is your back all better?" he exclaimed happily. Quatre was visible from the waist up. His chest was bare, and he seemed to be sitting in a hospital bed with the end cranked up. The intricate tattoos on his shoulders looked stark against the pale skin in that light.  
  
"I still have to lie in one at night, but it's much better. It's so good to be able to get up and around a little!" Quatre said. He was grinning, but he looked seriously wiped out. It was evening here in Japan, which made it mid morning in New Orleans, but it looked like he'd already had a long day. "How's Heero?"  
  
Duo turned the vid camera toward Heero's bed to let him see. "They've still got him knocked out. He really messed up his wrist, but his wounds are healing really well. You know Heero. He'll be back to normal before I am."  
  
"Hmmm." Quatre seemed to be frowning. Duo wondered what he was picking up from Heero. It wasn't the first time he'd envied Kat his connection with Heero.  
  
"How's your back look, meli?" asked Trowa, with eyes only for his husband.  
  
"Pink. Very pink and smooth, like a baby's. It doesn't really hurt, but it's still very sensitive. I can't even wear a shirt yet. I'm leaning back on moisturized gel packs at the moment."  
  
"Guess I'll have to be on the bottom for a while," Trowa murmured, giving him one of those heated looks of his. Nope, nothing wrong with 03's libido, that was for certain, Duo thought, or 04's either, judging by Quatre's cute little answering grin.  
  
"I started physical therapy this morning," Quatre told them.  
  
"How was it, meli?" Trowa asked, concerned.   
  
Quatre just shrugged but Duo guessed that it hadn't been pleasant. Glancing over at Trowa, he thought he caught another flash of that tension. It wasn't hard to see where Tro would rather be right now.   
  
"I'm sending your man back to you, Q," Duo told him. "We're fine here. They've got Heero drugged up and Dr. B's on his way. Wufei is hanging in there."  
  
"How is Zechs doing?" asked Quatre.  
  
"Hard to say. He's the strong, silent type, but I don't think he's slept much since they brought us in. Wu's still in isolation, on account of infection. I think it's probably driving Zechs nuts, not to be able to be closer, but he sits and watches him all day and probably all night, too."  
  
"What about you, Duo?" Quatre asked.  
  
"Huh? What about me?"  
  
"You look tired. Trowa, is he sleeping?"  
  
"Yes, meli, he's sleeping. Eating, too. And taking his mood stabilizers and antibiotics, but not the painkillers."  
  
"You sent him here to baby-sit me?" Duo exclaimed, equally touched and outraged. Leave it to Quatre to go and do something like that when he needed Trowa more than any of them.  
  
"I sent him because I thought you and Heero should have some family with you," Quatre replied with that quiet patience of his. "You guys were there for us. Weren't they, Trowa?"   
  
Was it Duo's imagination or had Kat just given his husband a long-distance "look"?   
  
"Yes, of course," Trowa agreed, giving Duo an apologetic smile. "I'm going to go get something to drink. Don't hang up, love. I'll be right back."  
  
When Trowa was out of the room Duo leaned in closer to the monitor. "What's going on, Quatre? He's acting like he's really pissed at me and trying not to show it."  
  
Quatre sighed. "He is, because you two gave us such a scare. If Wufei hadn't gone after you when he did, you'd probably both be dead right now. You do know that, right? Zechs told me that himself when I spoke to him earlier. Tro and I couldn't have done a thing to help. We both hate that, but he feels it even more deeply than I do. He's been the caretaker for all of us, more than we ever have for him. And-" He broke off, leaving something unsaid.  
  
"What? Come on, Kat, I'm not that fragile. Lean a little."  
  
Quatre sighed. "Well, there are some other things going on, too. There's all the pressure of what to do about the New York opening. With "Passage" and "Meld" on hold for now, some of the backers are worried that the main draw of the show is scuttled. The opening has been pushed back a month, but we've still had to refund a lot of tickets. Trowa's knee is screwed up and I may not be able to perform for months--not the hard stuff, anyway." Quatre paused and took what sounded like a shaky breath. "And there's trouble with my family again."  
  
"What? I thought you were emancipated?"  
  
"So did I, but some of my dear relatives are still trying to get me declared mentally incompetent. A couple of my sisters, the ones who really hate Trowa for 'turning me gay', are teaming up with Uncle Ahmed. They want my marriage annulled so they can lock me up in a mental institution. Under L-4 law, they think they have a case, since I'm still technically underage until I'm twenty-one. In their eyes, I've dishonored the family three times over, by being openly gay, marrying an infidel, and performing in the circus. In the old days back on Earth some male relative would have quietly garroted me by now, you know."  
  
"Damn, Kat! I had no idea!"  
  
"Yeah. And they wonder why I became a Gundam pilot and took all those drugs," Quatre said bitterly. "I think it's really about the money, though. I'm still the only male heir and even though I've resigned all my official titles, I still own a significant share of the corporation."   
  
"Can't you just walk away from all that, now that you and Tro have the show?"  
  
"That's just it," Quatre replied with a hitch in his voice. "I was planning to do that. I want to tell them all to take their money and shove it, every credit. But if the show goes under now, we could lose everything, and I wouldn't have my money for a safety net. That's how we launched it in the first place, you know. I'm the principle backer. We wanted it that way, to have complete creative freedom. We thought after the success of the New Orleans opening that we were free and clear, but if places like New York and Paris decided to drop us, we'll be in serious financial trouble."  
  
Quatre paused, looking dangerously close to tears. "So there's all that, and Tro's knee is still messed up, and you guys are hurt, and Wufei's so bad, and Trowa and I can't even--" Quatre stopped and wiped at his eyes. His voice had gone all quivery.   
  
"Oh, Kat. Baby, don't cry. I'm so sorry! I had no idea it was that bad!" Duo wanted to crawl through the monitor and hold him in his arms.  
  
Quatre took a deep breath. "Anyway, with all that and the house a wreck and all the weird publicity this has generated, with the police reports and the trial coming up? I have to keep the TV off now. I can't stand to hear it over and over again, what those men were doing, and see that horrible footage."  
  
Duo had watched the news for a while that morning, unable to look away from the carefully chosen still shots from the torture vids, the ones in which the faces were obscured but there was no mistaking who the victims were meant to resemble. And all those scenes of pathetic little body bags being carried out by men in hazmat suits.   
  
Duo wasn't allowed to shower yet, but he'd scrubbed himself nearly raw at the sink, trying to get the smell of all those bodies off his skin. His hair was all dry and frizzy from all the hospital shampoo he and Trowa had gone through, getting the blood and other unspeakable muck out of his hair. He wished Trowa had thought to bring him his own shampoo and conditioner. Heero needed Duo's braid as much as he did, and Duo knew the familiar smell of it was an important factor for Heero. As it was, it smelled like hospital soap and Duo thought he could still smell the corpses on it and worried that Heero did, too. Rolling around in rotting bodies wasn't something he ever wanted to do again.  
  
"According to the news, you and Heero were working on special assignment for the Preventers from the start," Quatre noted. "I talked to Sally. She says that came directly from Commander Une, but she thinks Zechs pulled some strings. Apparently he had some leverage with her and Relena."  
  
"After they screwed Wu over, you mean?" Duo snorted. "At least some good came out of that."  
  
"Have you seen some of the websites that have sprung up?"  
  
"No, the cops impounded our laptops. What's going on?"  
  
"Well, good stuff and bad. Thanks to the bombing and now this, there's even more support for us, but there are a lot of weird disturbing sites, too. I hate to say it, but thanks to the news, now just about everyone on Earth and space knows about those damn S.K.U.M. vids." Quatre shook his head, looking even more tired. "It's so--so--"  
  
"Sleazy? Embarrassing? Violating?" Duo supplied helpfully. The little blond "04" character had figured quite prominently in plenty of those vids; Kat's stuck-up, homophobic family must be really thrilled about that. "That bastard Hato was one of the writers for those things. Fuck, I'm so glad Zechs killed him!"  
  
"But what he did to you and Heero, that was something different, wasn't it?" asked Quatre.   
  
"Yeah. He and his rapist buddies were planning to have us guest star in some of their own personal productions. The cops found piles of scripts and all kinds of vid. The bastard was making snuff films, killing those poor kids after--"   
  
Now it was Duo fighting to keep his voice steady. "There was one boy left alive in the cell when Heero and I were captured, a little kid named Yuki. I don't even want to tell you the shape we found him in, Kat. He's up in the pediatric psych unit now. He can't be more than fourteen or so and--" Duo couldn't go on. He'd spoken with the kid's doctor earlier. They'd managed to save the arm he'd been shot in, but shock, abuse, malnutrition, and blood loss had taken a harsh toll. He'd been raped so brutally it had messed up his spine. He'd probably need surgery if he was ever going to walk again, assuming he survived.  
  
"Will he make it, do you think?" Quatre asked, reading him right.  
  
"I don't know. He doesn't seem very tough."  
  
"Like you were?"   
  
"Yeah, like I was. And no one ever hung onto me for days, doing all that shit. Not like they did to him."  
  
"And Heero," Quatre whispered sadly.  
  
Duo shuddered. He couldn't let himself think too much about that, putting Heero in Yuki's place. But Heero had been strong enough to get away, to survive.   
  
_//And then try to off himself,//_ an inner voice warned.   
  
"Duo? Duo, are you all right?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Too many bad memories."  
  
"I can feel that," Quatre said softly. "I wish I was there with you."  
  
"Yeah, me too, buddy. I could go for some serious snuggling with you right about now. Anyway, like you said, it's lucky that Wufei and Zechs showed up when they did. It's kind of scary, how much we've lost our edge since the war. We made just about every stupid mistake in the book. Not much of a covert operation."  
  
"Suicide mission, you mean," Quatre said, with some of Trowa's sharpness.   
  
"Think you two can ever forgive us?" Duo asked meekly.  
  
Quatre softened at once. "Oh, it's not like that, Duo, certainly not for me. Trowa? He just processes things differently, that's all. And, well--" He broke off, chewing his lip.  
  
"What, Q?" They were back to Trowa again and Quatre was clearly upset. "C'mon, buddy, I know there's something else on your mind. Spill already."  
  
"It's just that, well, I'm worried about him, too. I guess you already know that sex is about the only therapy Trowa responds to when he's really stressed, and he and I haven't been able to do anything, and I won't be able to for a while, so he's just left hanging and-- It almost makes me wish--" He broke off again, not looking at Duo.  
  
"That we'd all taken the whole group sex thing a little further?" Duo said uneasily.  
  
Quatre shrugged. "It's not like anyone is in very good shape to do anything, anyway, right? He'll live, but do try to be patient with him, OK? He loves you and Heero. He really does. He was really scared for you, and he's worried about Wufei. If he doesn't seem himself, it's just the stress and fear talking. Try not to take it personally."  
  
"I get the impression he'd rather spank me than fuck me, Kat. And if you think that would help, my ass is his. I deserve it."  
  
Quatre actually grinned at that, even though Duo had been serious. "Duo, you have multiple gunshot wounds. Just how much of a masochist are you?"  
  
"None in my ass. And in answer to your question? You'd be surprised." Duo waggled his eyebrows in a naughty leer, trying to make Quatre smile.  
  
It worked. "Hey, who's the one who took you to your first S &M club, Duo Maxwell?"  
  
"You did, you bad, bad boy."   
  
"All right then. Anyway, just give him a little sugar, OK?"  
  
"You got it, Q-man. Uh oh, here he comes. Try to look all innocent again."  
  
Trowa came in with a couple of cold drinks and gave them both a suspicious look. "What's up?"  
  
Duo couldn't help smirking as he checked out the front Tro's tight black jeans. "Nothing at the moment, I guess."  
  
"Duo!" Quatre tried to sound outraged but he was laughing.   
  
"Just saying goodnight to Little Blondie here," Duo told Trowa, giving the surprised young man the promised hug and a warm kiss, with a quick but heartfelt ass fondle for good measure. He made sure Quatre could see what he was doing. "Now I'm gonna go check on Big Blondie and Wu." He gave a Quatre a meaningful wink. "Keep your man company, Kat. I'll be a while and Heero is out like a light. Vid sugar's sweet, too, ya know." He grabbed the drink Trowa had brought him and hobbled out, giving Quatre a last encouraging wink.  
  
"It's not a secure channel, you pervert!" Quatre called after him. "Besides, that wouldn't help!"  
  
+  
  
"What wouldn't help?" Trowa asked, sitting down in front of the monitor in the chair Duo had vacated. The unexpected kiss and grope had caught him off guard.  
  
"Duo says you're being bitchy, love. He thinks you and I should have vid sex to make you feel better. But I know masturbation just leaves you worse off when you're like this."  
  
"Like what?" Trowa snapped, struggling to keep his voice down for Heero's sake. "And since when does Duo-fucking-Maxwell have a say in our sex life?"  
  
"Um, well, since I suggested you needed some relief from someone else while I'm out of commission," Kat replied, trying hard to look helpful and innocent.  
  
Trowa's green eyes widened in shock. "Jesus, Kat!"  
  
"Sorry, baby. But I can see how things are building up on you, and you are being a bear to them, sick as they are. I know what you need--"  
  
"What I need is *your* sweet, hot cock up my ass," Trowa gritted out, keeping his voice low. "Not Duo's or anyone else!"  
  
Quatre raised an eyebrow.  
  
Trowa stole a guilty look at Heero's sleeping form, then exploded. "What the hell's the matter with you?"  
  
To Trowa's horror, Quatre burst into tears. "I'm sorry, Trowa! I--I wasn't thinking and--and-- I'm just *so* worried and *so* tired and everything hurts and things are such a mess and--and-- Oh, I'm no use like this. I'll just hang up now."  
  
"No! No, meli stay!" Trowa begged, grasping the sides of the monitor as if he could hold Quatre that way. The sight of Quatre losing it was torment, just one more item on an ever-lengthening list of things he wanted to fix and couldn't. Trowa could see now that despite the brave front he'd been putting on, Quatre was too exhausted to move. He just lay there, face scrunched up and flushed, covering his eyes with one hand as the tears rolled down his thin, pale cheeks. An IV line dangled from the crook of his elbow. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry! I'm such a bastard. Please, Kat, baby, liebchin, don't hang up. Quatre, I'm coming home. I'm going to call and book a flight right now!"  
  
But Quatre dropped his hand and shook his head fiercely, those blue eyes commanding in spite of the tears. "No! You know why I want you there! Heero still doesn't feel right to me. If anything happens, Duo needs someone there who can go after him. Please, Trowa. I know it's too much for you but who else do they have but us?"  
  
Trowa dropped his face into his hands. "I know. I know. I know."  
  
"Do you love them?"  
  
"You know I do!"  
  
"Then please, Trowa, just a little longer. Just until I feel Heero is safe. None of us can afford to lose him again and I'm so worried what all this has done to his mind."  
  
Trowa ran his hands back through his hair and looked up at his love. "You're right. I'm sorry I'm so edgy."  
  
Quatre pinned him with a very direct look. "I love you, Trowa, and I know how you function. I don't want you falling apart. Promise me you'll-- take care of yourself, too. Do what you need to, to stay sane, understand?"  
  
Trowa let out an exasperated groan. "I'll go buy a vibrator right now; a great big silicone job with balls and everything. Biggest one I can find! Will that make you happy?" He couldn't believe how sharply that all came out. Quatre's face was crumpling again, like Trowa had slapped him. He might just as well have, the way emotions carried to the little empath. "Oh baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"  
  
Too late. Quatre mumbled a tearful, "I love you. Good night!" and broke the connection. Trowa frantically called him back. The first time he got a busy signal. The second time it rang and rang but no one answered. The third time he got a "Calls blocked" message. Quatre did not want to talk to him right now.  
  
"Oh, fuck!" Trowa slumped back in his chair, defeated.  
  
Heero stirred on the bed and turned to glare at him. Just how long had he been awake? Long enough, apparently, because he growled hoarsely, "Send him an apology. Now!"  
  
"I thought you were drugged."  
  
"Do it, 03."  
  
"Of course I'm going to do it!" Trowa snapped. He would have already if Heero hadn't butted in!  
  
Pressing the tips of his fingers to the bridge of his nose, he took several long, deep breaths, reining in his frantic emotions. He understood. Quatre had overloaded; he was exhausted and sick and hurting and worried and trying far too hard, as usual, to take care of everyone but himself. Trowa hoped he'd put up his mental shields, too, to protect himself, but on the off chance he hadn't, Trowa focused his heart and his thoughts on New Orleans and whispered, "I'm sorry, meli. I love you. I love you. I understand. Rest now, and know that I love you. I'm OK. Don't call back. Go to sleep, my sweet dove. Go to sleep, little one. And Heero says hi, too."  
  
+  
  
Six thousand miles away, Quatre caught his breath and stopped crying as he felt the unmistakable warmth of Trowa's strong arms enfold him. With it came a flash of Trowa holding him, whispering gentle words of love and apology. He even caught a few of them and blushed.   
  
"Sweet dove?" he muttered, trying to be outraged, but the truth was he reveled in every silly pet name Trowa had ever called him, even the ones that started with "little", as much as he complained. _//I should call him back,//_ he thought, but before he could find the strength to do so he was already asleep.  
  
+  
  
The drugs didn't knock Heero out nearly as much as he let on. He'd just given up fighting. Dozing or pretending to sleep got people to leave him alone. He just needed time to get his strength back, that was all. They'd taken off the regen units and hour by hour, his genetically enhanced body was putting itself back together. The antibiotics and fluids they were giving him sped up the process, but he'd have healed anyway. He always had.  
  
He'd heard the others whispering just now, heard everything. Everyone was messed up and it was all because of him.   
  
He gave Trowa a moment to send what comfort he could to Quatre, then extended a hand to him. "Come here."  
  
Trowa rose wearily and limped over, leaving his cane behind against the chair by Duo's bed.   
  
"Sit," Heero ordered. The words might be a little slurred by the drugs but he got the tone right. Trowa sat down at once on the edge of Heero's bed. Heero took his hand and massaged Trowa's rough palm with his thumb.   
  
Trowa caught his breath and tried to pull away. "It's OK, Heero. I'm fine."  
  
"No, you're not. I heard Quatre telling Duo about the troubles you're having with the show and his family. You didn't need all this on top of it." He worked his thumb in soothing circles over the fleshy heel of Trowa's palm, then massaged up each long finger, rolling them gently between his own. Trowa's eyes fluttered shut and his breathing deepened.   
  
_//How many days since the explosion?//_ Heero wondered. He was too fuzzy to calculate, but he knew that Trowa Barton had gone far too long without physical contact.   
  
"Lie down with me."  
  
Trowa tried to object again, but it was a half-hearted protest this time. Under Heero's glare, he kicked off his shoes and gingerly stretched out beside Heero, trying not to put pressure on any of the wounds in his chest or belly. Heero guided him in closer, gathering him in with his right arm, then drew Trowa's arm across the least damaged part of his chest. "Just don't squeeze, all right?"  
  
"I won't," Trowa muttered, lying rather stiffly against him with his head on Heero's shoulder. Trowa had on a tight black tee-shirt over his tighter black jeans. Heero stroked the bare forearm on his chest with his left hand, ignoring ache in his damaged wrist or the twinge of the IV in that arm. With his right he rubbed Trowa's shoulder and stroked his short, thick hair. In reality, he was doing it as much for his own comfort as Trowa's. Duo was so worried about him he wouldn't get in bed with him, just sat next to him in a chair and held his hand. It felt good, having someone pressed full length against him, and warm breath against his neck. It reminded him that he was still alive.  
  
Trowa slowly relaxed, then reached up and softly stroked Heero's unshaven cheek. At last he sighed a bit unsteadily and whispered, "I just want us all back in the big bed together, you know?"  
  
"I'm still welcome there?" Heero asked, genuinely doubtful. It had been preying on his mind a lot, all the trouble he'd brought to those he loved.  
  
"God, Heero, of course you are!" Trowa exclaimed. Cupping Heero's cheek, Trowa leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. It started out innocent and friendly, but as it went on Heero felt the light, hesitant brush of a tongue across his lips. He opened his lips and kissed Trowa back deeply, probing the hot mouth pressed to his. As it went on, he wondered drowsily where this might go if he wasn't shot up and doped. It was pleasant, but he was in no shape to feel remotely sexual. The kiss ended and Trowa settled back down on his shoulder with a happy sigh. Heero was starting to drift again, lulled by Trowa's warmth, but he was also aware of Trowa's erection hard against his hip through the blankets. He shifted slightly against him and felt Trowa's needy shiver. Poor guy. Heero sleepily pondered Duo and Quatre's whispered conversation, wondering where the others really stood on the whole sharing of partners issue these days? Quatre seemed to think that someone was going to have to help Trowa soon, and Quatre had a long way to go before he'd be up to the task. Heero flexed his abdomen and winced at the multiple flares of hot pain. No, not up to it.  
  
The drugs were pulling him under again. "Guess I'll have to talk to Duo," he mumbled sleepily against Trowa's hair.   
  
"Talk to him about what?" Trowa murmured back, utterly relaxed now.   
  
"Fucking you," Heero mumbled, hugging him.   
  
"What!?"   
  
Heero groaned in pain and chagrin as Trowa flailed off the bed and landed on the floor with a thud and a muffled curse.  
  
Fully awake again, Heero craned his neck, trying to see if he was hurt. "Tell me you didn't land on your knee!"  
  
Trowa hauled himself up and backed away from the bed, blushing furiously. "Uh no, on my ass. Heero, what the *hell* are you talking about?"  
  
"I don't know. The drugs are making me weird," Heero lied. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. Drugs did do weird things to him. That's why he avoided them.  
  
Trowa grabbed his cane and limped quickly for the door. "You must be hungry. I'll go grab us something to eat." Without inquiring what Heero might want, he disappeared.  
  
Heero fell back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, calling himself nine kinds of fool. It seemed he couldn't get anything right these days.  
  
_//Maybe I should just leave. They were better off without me.//_ Tears stung the corners of his eyes as the old dark thoughts crept back again. The worst part was that they felt so true.   
  
+  
  
Duo had paused to chat up the nurses at the station. He was already on a first name basis with most of them, as least the ones who spoke some English. Everyone was pretty star-struck by the Gundam boys and Zechs. It was in a nice way, though. Everyone was very kind, and very polite and helpful. By the time he was done this time, he'd gotten nurse Mariko to promise she'd look for his sandalwood hair products in the shops on her way to work tomorrow.  
  
Mission accomplished, he took the elevator up five floors to Cardiac ICU. He had the staff charmed here, too, but Zechs was by far the favorite, being their resident tragic lover and all. One of them called him "Lord Byron," whoever that was.  
  
As soon as he stepped off the lift, however, he could tell something was wrong. None of the English speakers were on duty, but one of the older women took him by the arm and hurried him along to the glass observation room.  
  
Zechs was right where Duo had left him this morning, but the bed beyond the glass was empty.  
  
Duo stood frozen in the doorway, mouth too dry to speak.  
  
"He's in surgery," Zechs rasped, not looking up. "There was a leak. His chest filled up with fluid and his heart stopped again."  
  
"Oh god! No one told me!"  
  
"It just happened." Zechs wasn't crying or anything, but he looked so lost that Duo went to him and sat down on the arm of his chair. Without giving it much thought, he stroked that long blond hair, not knowing what to say. He was probably the last person, except maybe Heero, who Zechs wanted to see right now, but he couldn't just walk away.  
  
Without a word, Zechs pulled Duo down into his lap and buried his face in his hair, holding him tight. Duo winced in pain, but said nothing, just wrapped his arms around Zechs, and let himself be held, a proxy for Wufei. Zechs still didn't cry, just held him, heart pounding wildly against Duo's side.   
  
They sat like that, not saying a word, until a nervous throat clearing made Duo look up.   
  
Trowa stood there, looking embarassed. "I, uh, I was just going out to get some food and--What's wrong?" Then he saw the empty bed. "Oh, god, no!"  
  
"Wufei's in surgery," Duo told him quickly, climbing out of Zechs's lap and pulling the man up with him. "Food's a good idea. Maybe some udon or something? Bring it back to my room. We'll be there."  
  
"No, I have to stay here," Zechs said, trying to pull free from Duo's grip on his arm.  
  
"I'll let the nurses know where you are. You're no further from the OR there as you are here. Come on, I'm not leaving you alone."  
  
Zechs cast a last sorrowful look at that empty bed, then allowed Duo to lead him away. Duo was prepared to use sign language at the nurse's station, but Zechs said something in Japanese and the nurse bowed and nodded.  
  
Heero was groggy but awake when they arrived. Duo made Zechs push all the visitor's chairs over by his lover's bed and they huddled together there, pretending to watch the news and not talking about how worried they were. Trowa returned with noodles and Duo nagged everyone into eating at least a little. Duo was a bit embarassed at his own appetite, but it was the first time in days that anything had tasted as good as these noodles. He had to keep his strength up, right?  
  
Zechs brooded and fretted. Trowa was silent, hiding behind his bangs. Heero was groggy and irritable, but he let Duo feed him half a bowl of noodles. The night nurse came in, exclaimed happily over Heero's appetite, and removed the IV line.   
  
That cheered Heero up a lot. He insisted that Duo sit with him on the bed and held his hand. Duo felt awkward at first. He was really worried about jostling Heero and hurting him, but the look in his lover's eyes as he gradually relaxed and settled beside him made him relax, too. Heero needed this, wanted this, although for some reason he kept looking over at Trowa with the oddest look on his face. Duo found himself doing the same with Zechs. The man was putting up a good front, but Duo kept feeling those arms around him. He felt rather guilty, leaving him over there all by himself.   
  
"Hey, Zechs, scoot over here, will you?" he said at last.  
  
With a questioning look, Zechs moved his chair closer to the bed. Duo kept a grip on Heero's hand with his left, but took Zechs's hand, too, resting it on Zechs knee to ease the pain this caused in the torn muscles of his chest. "He's going to be OK. You've got to believe that."  
  
"I want to," Zechs rasped, running a thumb over Duo's knuckles.   
  
Odd man out, Trowa slumped in his chair and kept his gaze fixed on an incomprehensible music videos playing on the TV, then muttered something about calling Quatre and left the room.  
  
An hour passed, and Trowa wandered back in with a handful of magazines, which he proceeded to immerse himself in. Another crawled by, and a third. It was nearly midnight when the phone by Duo's bed rang. He'd been dozing against Heero's shoulder, and Zechs beat him to it.  
  
"Yes? Yes, this is Zechs Merquise. It is? He is? Really?" Zechs blue eyes lit up and he gave the others an excited thumbs up. He listened for a moment longer, then hung up with a sigh of relief. "The operation went very well. Apparently the time he's already spent on regen strengthened the arterial tissues more than they'd thought. They had to do another graft, but the area is finally stabilized. The doctor said more, but I--that is--" Zechs was stumbling all over himself, he was so relieved and happy with the news. "The repairs are much better now. He's in recovery now, but they're-- He may even be awake by morning! I should, that is--"  
  
"Go already!" Duo laughed.   
  
Zechs gave him a grateful look and bolted from the room, empty shirtsleeve flapping behind him.  
  
"Well that's a relief," Trowa yawned, stretching in his chair. "If you two don't mind, I think I'll drag myself back to my hotel. I can't take these chairs any longer."  
  
"It's late. You should stay here," said Heero, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. "You have Duo's bed." The arm around Duo's shoulders tightened. "He can stay here with me."  
  
Trowa shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll be more comfortable there, I think. No offense, but a night out of a hospital would be a relief. I'll be back first thing in the morning. Good night."  
  
Heero felt a little sad, letting him go, but there was no stopping him.  
  
"Well, looks like you get your bed to yourself," said Duo, trying to get up.   
  
Heero held him. "I'd really like it if you'd stay here with me, Duo."  
  
Duo looked down at him in surprise, then gave him a sweet, understanding smile. "OK, baby. I'll stay. But promise you'll kick me out if you get uncomfortable, OK? Just let me go get my own pillow."  
  
When Duo had settled back beside him and turned out the light, Heero felt for the braid and ran his hand down its length.   
  
"I washed the hell out of it," Duo murmured, snuggling carefully against him.  
  
"Literally," Heero murmured, glad to have it soft and silky under his fingers again, not crusted with blood and filth.  
  
"How you doing, 'ro?" Duo asked after a while.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Heero shrugged. What could he say? He wasn't sure how he felt about anything right now. He needed Duo beside him more than anything else in the world, but the lingering unease and guilt about Trowa and the others hovered close to the surface.  
  
"Man, Tro took off pretty fast, didn't he?"  
  
"Maybe he got that vibrator after all," Heero said, already drifting off to sleep.  
  
Duo's sudden laugh woke him up fully. "What did you just say?"  
  
"Oh, that's right. You were gone. Quatre says Trowa needs sex, but Trowa wouldn't agree to doing anything with us, and got mad, and said he'd buy a big vibrator if it would keep Quatre from nagging him about it." Heero paused, frowning. "He made Quatre cry."  
  
"Yeah? Well, they are pretty ragged," Duo mused. "Kat kind of brought the subject up with me, too. I didn't think he was really serious, though."  
  
"Would you?"  
  
"What? Fuck Trowa?" There was a distinct edge to his voice now, but some sadness, too. "Would you want me to? Anyway, you're the one he was hung up on, not me. I'm strictly bottom in his mind."  
  
"I'm in no shape to do anything."  
  
"Heero, why do I get the impression you've given this serious thought? If you have some sort of "Fuck Trowa" mission plan going, I'm going to be seriously upset with you."  
  
"You don't think we owe them that much?" asked Heero. "I mean, we say we love them, but do we love them that much? Do you?"  
  
Duo was silent and still, then he left Heero's bed and went back to his own. Heero heard the mattress creak and the blankets rustle. Then, a moment later, the muffled sound of Duo weeping into his pillow.   
  
"Duo? Duo, please come back!" Heero called, feeling a little panicky. "Talk to me, Duo, please?"  
  
There was no answer, just more rustling sounds; probably Duo turning his back on him.  
  
"Duo, if you don't come back, I'm coming over there."  
  
"Just go to sleep, Heero!" It was a muffled growl.  
  
Heero sighed and reached for the bedside light. Then he sat up swung his legs off the side of the bed, remembering too late that the catheter hadn't been removed. His foot caught in the line and a sickening shock ran up his penis as the tube they'd inserted there jerked sharply. That, together with the surprising amount of pain moving caused, made him swear and clench his fists against the mattress.   
  
Duo was at his side in an instant, urging him back down and carefully positioning the catheter line again. When Heero got his breath back and opened his eyes, he saw tears on Duo's cheeks.   
  
"Come back to bed with me, please!" he croaked, clutching Duo's wrist. "Please?"  
  
Duo grudgingly complied, and after a moment even managed to relax a little.  
  
"Talk to me, Duo."  
  
"I do love them!" Duo hissed, clutching at the blankets over Heero's chest. "Of course I do! Sometimes I can even sort of imagine doing it with them-Sort of, but--"  
  
"But?"  
  
Duo buried his face in Heero's shoulder. "You know my history. I was used and abused. Then I was a total slut. You're the only person I ever did it with who made me feel clean and wanted and loved and--and-good! Not like trash! You're the only one I ever wanted to--to-- Oh hell, never mind. It's stupid!"  
  
Heero tightened his arm around Duo's shoulders, wondering just how huge an error he'd just committed. "*Nothing* you feel is stupid to me, Duo. Please, just say what's on your mind. Keep talking, little mermaid."  
  
But Duo just shook his head and clung to him. "Not now, Heero. It's OK. Let's just get some sleep, OK? I love you, baby. I'm just--It's been kind of a long week, y'know? Dr. Batoosingh's going to be here tomorrow, and maybe we'll get to see Wufei, right? Things'll look different in the morning. Go to sleep."  
  
Heero had little choice but to leave him alone and after a while it sounded like Duo really had gone to sleep. Heero wasn't fooled, though. He'd hurt him in some deep way, and sooner or later he had to face it, whether Duo wanted to talk about it or not. _//At least he came back to bed with me,//_ thought Heero. But he couldn't sleep. Instead, he lay there staring up into the darkness, taking inventory of all the ways he'd screwed up everything and everyone around him.  
  
+  
  
Three floors up, Zechs sat in the OR waiting room, content for now just to be this close to his little love. Reaching into his pocket, he took out the golden dragon ring Wufei had left with him when he'd headed for Japan. How Zechs looked forward to slipping it back on that slender golden finger where it belonged. Turning it in his fingers, watching the ruby catch the light, he couldn't imagine ever letting Wufei take it off again.  
  
+  
  
Two miles away Trowa sprawled on his cold hotel bed, joylessly trying to pleasure himself with the promised sex toy. It was big, and the vibration features were strong and varied, but it did him no more good than such things ever had. The only way he'd ever achieved any real release was in the hands or mouth or body of another. Or on Quatre's cock. He tried to pretend that this cold, unnatural rod was his lover as he pressed it into his body, but it didn't work. This was simply torture. He came at last, though sheer determination, but felt more empty and frustrated and horney than before. He stuffed the used toy back into its garish box and tossed it into the trashcan. Let the maid make of that what she would. It wasn't like it could hurt his reputation.   
  
He took a shower, washing cold semen from his belly and the nasty smell of silicone from his ass, then wrapped himself shivering in a hotel robe and called Quatre on his laptop's vidphone. To his immense relief, his beloved answered this time. Trowa was so relieved he burst into tears and spent the rest of the night curled up on the bed with the laptop, gazing into his husband's kind, tired, beautiful eyes as they talked about the house repairs and new acts and costumes for the show and anything else that didn't involve death and pain.  
  
+  
  
Six thousand miles away, Quatre gazed into his husband's sorrowful green eyes, giving what comfort he could. Tired as he was, he was glad Trowa had called, given the way they'd last parted. And he was glad of the distraction. Now wasn't the time to tell him about the blue legal document that had been delivered to his hospital room that evening, or how his back felt like it was on fire, or the way his aching leg had trembled and given out during the afternoon walking therapy session. And it could wait until tomorrow to warn him about the black waves of depression he was picking up from Heero, and Duo's strange guilt. Trowa had enough to deal with, just getting through the night. After all, of the five of them, Quatre was the strong one, right?


	86. New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Zechs must have dozed off, because he woke with a start to find Dr. Minako standing before him in the OR waiting room. The clock on the wall read 4:11 am. The doctor wasn't in bloodied scrubs this time, but an impeccable suit.  
  
"Is Wufei all right?"   
  
"Yes, he's been moved from recovery back to Cardiac ICU. He's doing very well. Would you like to see him?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
Minako smiled. "The nurses are waiting for you. They'll help you change."  
  
"Change?" Zechs blinked stupidly at him, still half asleep. "You mean I can actually be with him?"  
  
"Yes, if you take proper precautions."  
  
At the ICU unit a nurse showed him to a small changing room, where he stripped off his own clothes, showered with a special soap, and put on faded green scrubs, stretchy slippers, and surgical mask. His long hair was swept up under a sort of paper shower cap. Latex gloves gave the outfit its finishing touch.  
  
"It's only for a few days," a similarly attired nurse told him she led him down a glassed in corridor to a room similar to the one Wufei had been in before. There was an observation room beyond a glass panel; he was very happy to be on this side of the glass now.   
  
Wufei looked much the same has he had before, lying very still under the regen unit, tubes and monitors. But the life support machine was gone. He was breathing on his own now. His long, dark hair hadn't been washed in days, but some kind nurse had plaited it into a neat braid over one shoulder. Zechs grinned as he sat down by the bed; the braid was tied off with a strip of white medical gauze, tied in a bow. He looked so young and tender and innocent like this, not like a trained killer.  
  
Assuming the gloves meant it was acceptable to touch Wufei, Zechs bent and kissed his lover's forehead through his mask, then took one limp, calloused hand in his own and held it gently, as if Wufei might break with rough handling. Wufei's skin was cool. His face was very pale and there were dark, sunken circles under his closed eyes. He looked much thinner, too, but none of that mattered. Wufei had never looked lovelier to him than he did right now.  
  
"My love," Zechs whispered, fighting the lump in his throat. "Mei, I'm sorry I wasn't with you before, but I'm here now. I'll stay with you as long as you need me. Are you awake yet? No? That's all right. I'll talk to you anyway. It's been days since I could, little love. I've missed you so much! You gave us all such a scare. The other boys are here too, except Quatre, and Duo says he calls so often it's like he's actually here."  
  
He babbled on like that, stroking and kissing Wufei's hand and gazing at that wan, peaceful face. He couldn't see the rise and fall of Wufei's chest under the unit, but there were monitors enough to tell him that Wufei's vitals were strong and steady now.  
  
+  
  
Wufei was so tired! He felt himself rise to the edge of consciousness many times, but he could not break through. He was trapped in cold dark water, under ice. It was cold and lonely. He didn't want to be here! But again and again he just sank back into darkness.   
  
Then, as if from a distance, he heard Zechs's deep, raspy voice. He couldn't make out the words at first, but knew he was calling to him. He seemed to remember hearing him before, and he'd sounded sad then, but now it was the deep, rumbling love voice Wufei heard. It drew him up from the darkness until he felt light on his eyelids. They felt so heavy, it was hard to open them, but he clung to the sound of that voice as long as he could. Zechs was calling him "little love" and "mei" and all sorts of other tender endearments that touched Wufei like caresses. Consciousness came and went, but that voice was always there for him when he tried to surface. Words of love and poetry wove a lifeline for him to cling to. More than anything he wanted to open his eyes and embrace his lover, but he was still so tired, so heavy!  
  
+  
  
Dawn was breaking outside the window when Zechs saw Wufei stir slightly against the pillow. His eyes were moving rapidly behind the closed lids and the fingers in Zechs's hand began to twitch.   
  
Thrilled, Zechs leaned closer. "Are you awake now, my love? Can you open your eyes?"  
  
Soft dark lashes fluttered and Wufei's liquid black eyes slowly opened to regard him drowsily. His dry lips moved, silently shaping Zechs's name.  
  
"I'm here, mei," Zechs's whispered, wishing he could gather him up in his arms.   
  
"Mmmmm," Wufei whispered, barely audible. "Zechs." Those sleepy eyes found him again, focused briefly, and the most beautiful smile came over his face. "Too early. Come back to bed. I'm cold."  
  
"Poor baby. I wish I could," Zechs told him, kissing his fingers through the mask but Wufei had already dozed off again. Zechs released him just long enough to hit the call button. A nurse responded over the small speaker set in the wall above the bed. "He just woke up for a moment. He says he's cold."  
  
"That's good news, Peacecraft-sama! It is quite natural, after surgery. I will bring some blankets."  
  
She appeared a moment later with several flannel blankets that had been warmed. Zechs helped her lay them over Wufei, and then took his place by the bed again, reclaiming that hand.   
  
The nurse's dark eyes were smiling above her mask as she went out. "You are very good medicine for him, sir. He'll probably drift in and out for a little longer, but he should wake up soon. Keep talking to him. That should help."  
  
Zechs would gladly talk until his voice failed, if that's what it took, but he was running out of things to say. Chiding Wufei about the flak vest was not appropriate to the situation. Instead, he fell back on poetry, reciting all of Wufei's favorites and his own. Byron, Keats, Shakespeare, Marlowe, and the Chinese and Japanese poets Wufei had introduced him to, anything that came to mind. He avoided T.S. Eliot, though; that had been their poet of sorrow, before they'd filled each other's empty hearts.  
  
He'd tried to commit some of Wufei's Chinese verses to memory, but his recollection was imperfect. He closed his eyes, trying to summon the beautiful friendship oath Wufei had gifted him with the first time they'd made love. The lines came slowly, and he allowed himself to embellish a little.  
  
"'If you were riding in a coach,  
And I were wearing a peasant's coat,  
And one day we met in the road,  
You would get down and bow.  
If you were carrying a peddler's umbrella,' my darling Chang Wufei,  
'And I were riding on a horse,  
And one day we met in the road  
I would get down for you.  
  
"'I want to be your lover  
Forever and ever without break or decay.  
When the hills are all flat  
And the rivers are all dry---'"  
  
Damn, what was the next line? He looked up to find Wufei awake again, and gazing at him.  
  
"When it lightens and thunders in winter," he whispered, closing his fingers weakly around Zechs's. "When it rains and snows in summer, when Heaven and Earth mingle. Not even then will I part from you."  
  
Zechs blinked back tears and kissed those fingers again, silently cursing the mask and gloves.   
  
"That outfit isn't very flattering, though it does emphasize your beautiful eyes," Wufei rasped, still groggy. "What happened? Why am I in the hospital?"  
  
"You were with Sally, looking for Heero and Duo in Japan. Do you remember?"  
  
Wufei's eyes lost focus for a moment. "Oh. Oh yes--Hato. And your lover, Nakamura was helping me."  
  
Zechs blushed in spite of himself. That was a conversation for another time. "Yes. You found them. You saved their lives, Wufei."  
  
Wufei squeezed his eyes shut as he swallowed painfully and frowned. "Missed one of the bastards-- Forgot my vest. So stupid!"  
  
"Don't, love."  
  
Wufei's eyes snapped open, and now he was glaring at Zechs. " _You_ were there! What the hell were you doing there? You were supposed to stay in New Orleans!"  
  
"We can fight about that later."  
  
"I--oh god!" He grimaced and lifted his head, getting a better look at Zechs. "Your arm! What happened?"  
  
"It stopped a few more bullets meant for you. Don't worry, it can be replaced. You can't."  
  
Wufei fell back with a sigh. His braid bounced a little. He noticed the bow and glared at it. "Don't tell me. Maxwell has been in here."  
  
"No, but I'm sure he'll want to see you soon," Zechs chuckled. He pulled the bow out and secured it in a more manly fashion. "Everyone has been so worried about you. We almost lost you several times, my love."  
  
"Really?" Wufei's glare was replaced with a softer, rather lost look as he touched the regen unit still strapped across his chest. "Where was I hit?"  
  
"It grazed your heart." It was enough information for now. According to the surgeon, the bullet had narrowly missed the vena cava and spine before it lodged under Wufei's left shoulder blade, sparing him a messy exit wound. A few inches difference and he'd certainly have bled out at the scene.  
  
Wufei shifted uncomfortably, and Zechs noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead and upper lip. "My chest hurts. And my thighs."  
  
Zechs called the nurse again, requesting pain relief. "You've had several operations. They took arterial grafts from both femoral arteries. They're going to put regen units on them, too, to get rid of the scars."  
  
"Hn. Good."   
  
Was Wufei blushing, concerned over unsightly marks marring those creamy inner thighs? Zechs smiled behind his mask and kissed his lover's palm.   
  
The nurse came in and injected something into Wufei's IV line. Wufei went back to sleep almost instantly. "He'll sleep for a few hours now," she told Zechs. "You should go get something to eat."  
  
Zechs stood reluctantly and stretched. He could use a bathroom break, he supposed, and this was as good a time as any. "I'll be back soon. Take good care of him."  
  
Outside in the corridor he pulled off the hair cap, mask and gloves and tossed them in a waste can. He used the rest room, then headed out to the main waiting area beyond in search of a soda machine. He was parched and had the beginning of a headache.   
  
As he entered the waiting room he was surprised to see a tall, familiar form at the receptionist's window.   
  
"Masa!"  
  
Masa turned and broke into a huge grin, then hurried over to embrace him. "Zechs! I was hoping I'd see you. How is Chang?"  
  
"Much better. He was awake just now." Masa was a bit taller than Zechs. He'd forgotten that detail until now. As he stepped back with Masa's hands still around his waist, he remembered leaning into the man, resting his head on that broad shoulder as they'd danced in shadowy clubs, hiding out from the Academy censors.  
  
Masa's dark eyes smoldered just the way he remembered and he took another step back, not wanting to court any misunderstandings. Masa and Keno might have an open relationship, but Zechs did not. He realized he'd better keep his old lover clear on that point if they were going to stay friends.   
  
Masa took the hint, though, and led him over to sit in the hard plastic chairs against the wall. All the same, his eyes seemed to be devouring Zechs, even after his hands retreated. "Damn Zechs! You look good for a dead man."  
  
"Six months in a regen and a coma did wonders," Zechs replied. "You've filled out a bit. You look good, too."  
  
"Guess marriage agrees with me," he replied with a grin. "That Keno, he's still a handful. Keeps me on my toes."  
  
"He's not with you?"  
  
"Home asleep. And I think he's a little jealous of you."  
  
"I think Wufei feels the same way about you. Tell me, what did you think of him?"  
  
"He's a hothead, and a bit of a stiff, if you want my honest opinion. Good fighter, though; more guts than brains. I can see the attraction, though I'd never have pegged him as your type. Struck me as a real ice princess."  
  
Zechs laughed outright at that, remembering his own first impressions of Wufei, compared to the reality he'd discovered. "There are sides of him only I get to see."  
  
Masa laughed, too. "Yeah, I figured that was probably the case."  
  
"Thank you for helping him, and all of them. Maxwell and Yuy are recovering, too."  
  
"All guts, no brains there, too, huh?"  
  
"Not entirely. But close, in this instance. I think if you met them, your opinion might improve."  
  
Masa shook his head. "No, I just came by to see you. Too bad about the arm. Will they have to replace the locking mechanism?"  
  
"Yes. Can't say I'm looking forward to going through the whole process again. I'm going to lose some more of the arm, but it was worth it."  
  
"I bet he is," Masa replied, clapping Zechs on his good shoulder. "Well, that's all I had to say. Look me up someday. You know how to find me."  
  
"I will."  
  
Zechs chuckled over Masa's assessment of Wufei as he resumed his hunt for the soda machine, noticing only after he found it that he'd left all his money with his clothes when he'd changed into the scrubs. Wufei had been an "ice princess", as he'd put it. Who would have guessed that was exactly Zechs's type?  
  
+  
  
Duo woke up disoriented with a crick in his neck. He was still in Heero's bed. Heero was asleep, but he was frowning and looked tired and drawn. Duo reached up and gently smoothed the tousled dark hair from his brow. Heero's beard was heavier these days. His cheeks were covered in thick stubble, which accentuated how sunken they'd become. In the early morning light, he looked a lot like he had when they'd found him in that Madrid hospital. Except that he'd looked happier back then than he did right now.  
  
Duo wasn't feeling too happy himself. The previous evening's argument had ended inconclusively and left him unsettled. What the hell had gotten into Heero and Quatre? It wasn't like Trowa would spontaneously combust if he didn't get laid, right? And he wouldn't want Duo like that, anyway, right? It wasn't like Duo was getting any come on signals from him. So why had it hit Duo so hard, when Heero, who was obviously not himself again, started talking about sharing him like some---  
  
_//Some piece of meat street whore.//  
  
//Like it didn't matter.//_  
  
But that was just stupid! He knew none of his friends, and certainly not Heero, thought of him like that. But the old feelings, the bad old demons that had driven him after the war, they were back, digging into his hard won trust and self esteem.  
  
Duo untangled himself from Heero as gently as he could and hurried into the bathroom where his pills were. He took the required morning doses. Except for the few days while they were on their "mission" he'd kept up with his meds very carefully. Looking into his own haunted eyes in the mirror, he suspected that the anxious sadness making a hard knot around his heart right now had nothing to do with missed meds.   
  
Suddenly he heard a crash and a loud groan from the other room. Dashing out, he found Heero in a heap on the floor, clutching at his crotch through the hospital gown. The torn out catheter line hung over the side of the bed and there were little patches of blood seeping through the back of Heero's hospital gown.  
  
"Heero, what the hell?" Duo gasped, trying to gather him up in his arms.  
  
"You were gone!" Heero whispered, and Duo realized he was crying. "I woke up and you were gone. I dreamed you didn't want me anymore because I hurt you and when I woke up, you were gone!"  
  
"Oh baby, no!" Duo soothed, his own pain momentarily forgotten as he knelt there, rocking Heero's shaking body in his arms. "Don't be silly. I'm not going anywhere."  
  
After a few moments Heero wiped his eyes, trying to get himself under control. "I hurt your feelings last night. I didn't mean to."  
  
"I know you didn't," Duo told him, running his fingers through Heero's shaggy hair. It really was getting long. In the back it was almost down to his shoulders. Four months. It had been four months since they'd found each other again, but suddenly it felt like they were back at square one in Madrid.   
  
_//But I'm stronger now,//_ he told himself. _//He's just had to live all his shit over again. He's right back in hell, probably, but I'm strong now. I can help him.//_  
  
All the same, he'd be really glad when Dr. B. got here.  
  
A gray haired nurse came in just then and found them on the floor. She didn't speak any English, this one. She bent over them, scolding them in Japanese. Heero said something that calmed her down. Well, he growled it, but it had a calming effect all the same. He let her help him back into bed and glared up at the ceiling, suffering the indignity of her lifting his gown to check where the tape holding the catheter in had torn loose. She handled his limp, shrunken penis with brisk authority, then pulled the gown down and tugged the covers back over him. Heero gripped them with his right hand, as if expecting someone else to come in and embarrass him. She checked the cast on his left wrist, flexed the fingers, lectured him a little more, and then tried to steer Duo back to his own bed.   
  
"That's ok," he told her, stubbornly hunkering down in the chair by Heero's bed. "I'm fine right here."  
  
She gave them both a last exasperated look and started to leave.  
  
"Ask her about Wufei," Duo told Heero.  
  
Heero rattled off something else in Japanese and she gave him a short reply, then bustled out.  
  
"She's going to call Cardiac ICU and check," Heero told him.   
  
Nurse Mariko came in a few moments later and put a small shopping bag in Duo's lap. He looked inside and grinned. She'd found his sandalwood shampoo and conditioner, and even bought him a new comb--blue this time-- and some hair ties. They had colorful beads and little kitties attached, but he could live with that for now. "Thanks! Leave me the receipt and I'll pay you back."  
  
"No need, Duo-san," she told him, blushing a little and giving him a star-struck smile. "A gift from the nurses to you. Head Nurse says that you two should have breakfast, and then orderlies will take you up to see your friend. Chang-sama is awake now. Head Nurse also says Yuy-sama can do without catheter, if he promises to call for help with a urinal and stay in bed."  
  
Heero gave her a curt nod. "Hai."  
  
That news drove Duo's blues away for a little while. Trowa wandered in as they were eating the bland hospital breakfast. He looked like he hadn't slept well, either, but he'd showered and had on a clean Circus della Notte tee shirt under his leather jacket. Better still, he'd brought them hot coffee and pastries for breakfast. He already knew about Wufei, too. Quatre had called the hospital.  
  
"Kat says good morning. We should call him after we see 'fei," Trowa told them, picking half-heartedly at his cinnamon roll.  
  
Duo studied him over the rim of his paper coffee cup, trying to decide if Tro was depressed or just tired. It looked like both. They never had been able to convince him to go in for therapy. Duo wondered if it was time to try again. If anyone was in a situation that needed some professional support, it was Tro.   
  
When they were done an orderly came in. Duo helped Heero into his brown silk robe and some hospital slippers, then let Trowa and the orderly get him into a wheel chair. Heero glared and grumbled a little, but didn't have much choice in the matter. Duo could tell he was still weaker than he liked to admit. Trowa took over, pushing the chair to the elevator while Duo trailed along behind.   
  
Wufei was still in isolation, so they had to stay on their side of the glass in the observation room, but Zechs was in there with him, bundled up in scrubs and holding his hand. There was a speakerphone for communication.  
  
Wu still looked like hell and the white regen unit was still in place, but at least he was awake and breathing on his own. Duo pressed his face to the glass and blew his cheeks out, crossing his eyes. Wufei grinned and weakly flipped him off.  
  
"How are you?" Heero asked.  
  
"I've been better," Wufei replied, his voice shockingly weak and soft. "How are you?"  
  
"Fine," Heero told him. "Thank you for helping us, Wufei. Duo and I are in your debt."  
  
"Just don't do anything so stupid again and we're even," Wufei shot back, stabbing a finger at him. "Trowa, what are you doing here? How is Quatre?"  
  
Trowa shrugged. "He's much better, thank you. He--we thought I should come over for a bit, make sure you're all getting the right care."  
  
"Ridiculous!" Wufei scoffed. "Go home to your husband. You should be with him."  
  
Trowa just shrugged again and jammed his hands deeper into the front pockets of his jeans.  
  
"Yuy, tell him to go home!" Wufei insisted.   
  
"I will." Heero was grinning. "You must be feeling better. You're getting bossy again."  
  
"Definitely a good sign," Zechs agreed, and Duo could tell by the way those blue eyes slanted up at the corners that he was grinning like crazy. Wufei was sounding a lot more like his old self.   
  
No one was really up to talking about what had put them all there. They made cheerful small talk until a nurse came and shooed them away so Wu could rest.  
  
"He does look better, doesn't he?" said Trowa, wheeling Heero back to the elevator.   
  
Heero had fallen into a funk again, though, and just nodded. Duo knew how he felt. They'd landed Wu in that hospital bed. There was no getting around that.  
  
+  
  
Seeing Wufei had left Heero with mixed feelings, but depression was winning out. The short trip to ICU had tired him more than he liked to admit, too, and breakfast hadn't settled very well. Back in their room again, he let Trowa help him back into bed and dozed off while the others played cards.  
  
+  
  
Trowa had gone out in search of lunch and Duo was stretched out on his own bed, leafing listlessly through one of the circus arts magazines he'd left behind. A sound at the door made him look up and there was Dr. Batoosingh, smiling at him from the doorway with an overcoat over one arm and a briefcase in hand.   
  
Duo pointed to Heero, still sleeping peacefully in the other bed, then got up and went into the corridor to talk.  
  
"Hey, good to see you, doc! I'm really glad you could come down in person."  
  
"You boys are becoming a full time occupation," Batoosingh replied, though he was still smiling. "You and Heero have gotten into some trouble since we last spoke. How are you?"  
  
Duo shrugged, trying not to wince at how it pulled at the stitches in his chest. "Better than Heero. I'm worried about him, Doc. He's really low. Kat can feel it all the way over in New Orleans."  
  
"I'm not surprised. But let's talk about you, shall we? The staff here has given me an office. Can you talk now?"  
  
Duo hesitated, thinking of Heero's earlier panic attack when he'd woken up without him. Just then, however, he saw Trowa getting off the elevator. "Tro, if Heero wakes up, tell him I'm with the doc, OK?"  
  
Trowa nodded, then gave Batoosingh a silent nod of acknowledgment before going in to watch Heero. Batoosingh watched him for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face, then led Duo around a corner to a small consultation office. They sat facing each other in matching armchairs and for a moment Batoosingh looked him over with the same air of scrutiny.  
  
"That's a very nice robe you have on," he said, taking a notebook from his case.  
  
"Heero got it for me," Duo told him, knowing the man was just warming up to grill him. "So, you gonna yell at me, too?"  
  
  
"Of course not, Duo. I'm here to help you and Heero process what you've been through. That's all. Do you think I should chastise you?"  
  
_//Here we go!//_ thought Duo. "Yes. I think I was really stupid not to stop him from going. I got caught up in his view of things and it all just spun out of control."  
  
Batoosingh nodded, not writing anything down yet. "That's understandable, given your shared history, and your feelings for him. You wanted to help and protect him, didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah. That's all I could think of."  
  
"Why don't you tell me everything that happened, starting with your decision to go to Japan."  
  
Duo sighed and shifted in his chair to get comfortable. Thinking of it as a mission debriefing, he sketched out the circumstances, starting with their meeting with Meir in Berlin and the information he'd given them. It took a while, but he tried to be as detailed and honest as he could. When he reached the part where he'd woken up stretched naked over that table, though, he began to lose it a little. His hands and voice were both shaking, but he made himself go on.  
  
"You called for help," Batoosingh noted, interrupting for the first time after Duo had explained how he'd yelled for Heero, hoping to snap him out of his dazed state.   
  
Duo sighed. "Yeah, and it worked. I mean, I wasn't sure Heero was close enough to hear, but I couldn't figure out anything else to do."  
  
"You've told me in past sessions that you prided yourself on never asking for help in such situations. What changed your mind this time?"  
  
Duo frowned, fidgeting with the sash of his robe. "Like I said, I thought I could snap Heero out of it. And let's face it, I was out of options."  
  
"Were you frightened?"  
  
Duo snorted, suppressing a shudder. "Scared shitless!"  
  
"And it was a good plan, as it turned out. Still, it was quite an emotional risk for you, wasn't it? On some level, you must have had a great deal of faith in Heero's abilities, even though he was sick."  
  
Duo considered this. "Yeah, I did. I mean, it's Heero, right? And man, did he come through! Tore his wrist all to hell getting loose, but he came through that door like a tornado and took on those guys with his bare hands."  
  
"But he did not try to break free before that? What you've described sounds like a retreat to a fugue state. At the very least, he was experiencing debilitating flashbacks."  
  
"That's right."  
  
"But having you call for help 'snapped him out of it' and motivated him to fight as only he could."  
  
"Yeah." Duo wondered why he was restating the obvious. He was scribbling things down on that pad of his, too.  
  
At last Batoosingh looked up again over the tops of his glasses. "Very good. And after Heero got you free, what happened then?"  
  
Duo went on, right up to when they got cornered in that awful hallway with all those bodies, and how Heero had gone down in a blaze of gunfire, and how he'd been hit, right before Wufei and Zechs and everyone showed up to kick ass.  
  
"Did you see Agent Chang get shot?"  
  
"Not really. I thought Heero was dead and so I was kinda focused on him. But I looked up when Hato shot him, and saw Zechs trying to protect Wu." He paused with a grim grin. "I was watching when Zechs shot the fucker between the eyes. I'm glad I didn't miss that."  
  
"Understandable. Well, anything else you'd like to tell me?"  
  
"That's pretty much what happened. I don't remember much after that, except being really scared for Heero in the ambulance. Then they took me up to surgery and when I woke up, I was here."  
  
"And since then, how has your mood been?"  
  
"What are you, a mind reader?" Duo shook his head. Of course he was. Batoosingh knew him inside and out. "I've been kinda up and down. I feel really bad about the trouble we caused for Wufei, getting him shot and all. Heero is really down on himself about everything. He figures it's all his fault: Wufei, Tro and Kat getting blown up, me getting shot. He's--" Duo broke off, rubbing at his eyes, which were stinging all of a sudden. "He said something like maybe he shouldn't have come back. He feels like he's brought trouble on all of us."  
  
"Are you afraid he might leave again, like he did before?"  
  
"Yeah, I am. And he's being kinda weird about us, too."  
  
"Oh? How so?"  
  
Duo sighed and rubbed his eyes again. "Well, last night he more or less suggested that I fu--that I have sex with Trowa. It wasn't just him, either. Kat was hinting around, too."   
  
"Indeed? Why would they do that?"  
  
Duo took another deep breath and tried to explain how things were between the four of them, and how Trowa worked. Dr. B nodded and took notes the whole time.  
  
"A complex relationship. Yet from what you've described, Trowa himself has not approached you or anyone else for sexual release?"  
  
"No, but like I said, Trowa doesn't think of me that way. If he needed topping, it would be Heero he'd go to, not me."  
  
"And how would you feel about that, if Heero did?"  
  
"I'd kick his ass, for starters!" Duo blurted out, then clapped a hand over his mouth, amazed at his own vehemence.  
  
"Heero's ass, or Trowa's?" Batoosingh asked, unphased by the outburst.  
  
Duo blinked at him. "Both, I guess."   
  
"Well, I don't blame you."  
  
"So you don't think I'm being selfish?"  
  
It was rare for the doc to look surprised, but he did. "Of course not, Duo. What you share with each of your friends is very special and unique. You clearly love them all very deeply. But what you have with Heero? That's quite a different relationship. You love him, but you also look to him to make you feel safe and special, right? You love them all, but it's only Heero with whom you are in love."  
  
Duo felt himself blushing. "Yeah," he mumbled, still finding his robe's sash of great interest.  
  
"Did you feel betrayed, when Heero suggested he wouldn't mind if you had sex with your friend?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Are you angry with him about that?"  
  
Duo squirmed in his chair, then sighed again. "Yeah, I guess I am."  
  
"You should talk to him about that. From what you've told me, as good and strengthening as the relationship with all your friends is, you may have a different sense of personal boundaries than they do. You've said yourself that Heero is--what was that term you used? 'Socially retarded'? I would venture that your other friends are operating from a different emotional template than you are, as well. But that doesn't make you selfish or wrong. If anything, yours is the more normal reaction for someone in a committed relationship."   
  
"You're saying _I'm_ the normal one, for once?" Duo scoffed.   
  
Batoosingh chuckled. "Yes. Imagine that, eh? I'm not condemning the morals of your friends, Duo. Polyamory can work, and apparently did work in Trowa's past, although I wouldn't mind exploring that with him at some point." He paused, tapping his lips with his pen. "I've only met him a few times, but I think deep down, Trowa is a very unhappy person."  
  
"Kat calls him 'complex'."  
  
"That's one way of looking at it. As I've said in the past, I think all of you have done remarkably well overcoming your backgrounds, but that doesn't mean there aren't scars, or work left to be done. But we've strayed off topic, haven't we? This is your session. I'd like to give you a brief physical exam. Will you allow me to approach you?"  
  
"Sure, whatever, doc."  
  
The doctor looked in his eyes, checked his pulse, and then took a close look at his hands and braid. He sat down again, jotted a few notes, and looked up with a smile. "You're taking your medications faithfully now, aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah. I missed a couple of days when we came here, but I'm back on them now."  
  
"Very good. I'd like to point out a few things, if I may. Despite the ordeal you have been though, you fought your way through it, and were, in fact, the strong one for Heero. It was your quick thinking that saved the two of you long enough for help to arrive. Even though you were put in a position that could potentially stir up your very worst memories and fears, you remained in control and took action, rather than collapsing."  
  
"Yeah, I guess I did."  
  
"It also appears that you haven't been chewing your nails or your hair recently. Both are neatly trimmed. You didn't cry once during this session, or lose control, or throw anything. You have hardly fidgeted at all, you aren't curled up in a ball in your chair, and you haven't gotten up to pace once."  
  
Duo blinked again. "So?"  
  
"So, you are doing exceptionally well for someone who's been through such a traumatic experience. I must say, Duo, this is the first time since I've known you that I can see the boy who piloted a Gundam and survived a war. I've always considered you remarkable. At the moment, I'm very impressed. You took good care of your friend, even if you went about it the wrong way. And let's not forget, your 'mission' was, in the final analysis, a success. A sadistic serial killer was stopped, and you two saved one of his intended victims. " He looked down and consulted some notes. "Yuki, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, but I'm not sure how good a job we did. Have you seen him?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, yes. You and Heero are in no way responsible for what happened to that boy, Duo. But you are completely responsible for the fact that he is still alive now. Don't forget that, and make sure Heero doesn't. I also heard on the news this morning that Raphael Conte is under investigation. It seems the Tokyo police and Preventers are very eager to find some reason to shut down his operation. Relena Peacecraft has also issued a formal statement, condemning the contents of those films and the hate it represents. I believe there is a thinly veiled version of her brother in them, as well?"  
  
Duo grimaced. "Yeah. Alex Lightning. As in Lightning Count Zechs Merquise? Clever, right?"  
  
"Not particularly. And the rumor is that some of the scenarios Conte's films portray in those vids were based on fact. That could get him a great deal of trouble if you and your friends are willing to testify against him."  
  
"I don't know about that," Duo muttered, as his belly knotted. Going after Conte meant publicly admitting that those fucked up vids existed, and that some of what they showed was true. "Hato's dead. That's all I care about."  
  
"That's up to you, of course."  
  
Duo sat back in his chair, staring at the doctor in amazement as the import of his earlier words finally sank in. "You're saying that I did OK, aren't you? That because I held it together for Heero, I'm not crazy anymore."  
  
"I never considered you insane, Duo. Troubled, certainly, with serious emotional difficulties. But never crazy. I've seen an improvement in your condition ever since Heero returned to you, and I must say, you came through this latest trauma with flying colors. You should be proud of yourself, Duo. You really are much stronger than you've been giving yourself credit for."  
  
"No shit?"  
  
"No shit. You were a Gundam pilot, after all."  
  
"Huh!" He didn't know what else to say. "So, what do I do about Heero?"  
  
"Keep on loving and supporting him, as you have been. But be honest with him about your feelings surrounding your relationship to your other friends. However, I'd prefer it if you'd wait until I've had a chance to speak with him. From what you've described, he's fallen back into a serious depression. You shouldn't hold him responsible for any of the decisions he's made in recent weeks. As strong as he is, everyone has their limits. And if you are correct about him remembering things from the time he was in the fugue state, then he may be more fragile and unbalanced that it appears. Don't worry too much, though. For now, he's in a safe environment, with excellent care. I'll stay on a few days and do a thorough evaluation. Some interesting things have turned up in his blood work, but I want to speak with him before I draw any final conclusions. Can you be patient, Duo?"  
  
"I'll do anything for him, doc. Anything!"  
  
"Good. So don't worry too much, and don't take anything he says too seriously. Well, that's it for now, unless there's anything else you'd like to say?"  
  
"I'm talked out!" Duo laughed, feeling remarkably better than he had. "And really, I'm awful glad you're here. For Heero, I mean. Ad me, too, of course, but mostly so I don't mess Heero up with my own shit, er-- stuff."  
  
Batoosingh noted the catch and chuckled. "You're cursing less, I notice."  
  
Duo blushed. "Yeah? Well, I figure Heero deserves someone a little classier. Just 'cause I was a street rat doesn't mean I have to come off like one the rest of my life, right?"  
  
"That's your choice to make, Duo." He checked his watch. "I'd like to see Heero at five, if he's feeling up to it. I can come to his room."  
  
Duo nodded and walked out feeling a lot happier than when he'd come in.  
  
+  
  
Wufei woke up again in the late afternoon, feeling disoriented. He was seldom ill and this enforced bed rest was already wearing on him. Zechs was still there at his side and took his hand as soon as he saw that Wufei was awake.   
  
"How are you feeling now, little love?" he asked. Wufei could see nothing of his lover's face except for his eyes, but those were expressive enough.  
  
"Better," Wufei whispered. "Thirsty."  
  
Zechs fed him a few spoonfuls of ice chips and then applied something oily and soothing to his cracked lips. "You've been on an IV for days. I'm afraid they won't remove it until the regen is complete and you can get up. The units are on your legs now, too. Can you feel them?"  
  
"Are those restraints?" Wufei asked, trying to shift his legs and meeting with resistance.  
  
"Standard procedure, so you don't disturb the units. It's only for a few days." Zechs kissed his forehead and stroked Wufei's hair.   
  
The latex caught on stray strands and pulled a little, but Wufei didn't care. It felt good to be touched, even through masks and gloves. Not sensual, but comforting. Having Zechs here with him made anything bearable.  
  
"Apart from the vest thing, I understand you did a very good job," Zechs said. "I spoke with Masa earlier. He was impressed with your performance and he's a good judge of men."  
  
"He was very capable and helpful, too," Wufei replied. "So, were you and he--?"  
  
"I think you know the answer to that already, my love, but it was a long time ago, in another life, one that's long in the past. But he is still my friend. You met Keno, too, I assume?"  
  
"Yes. I wasn't sure what to make of him. Was he a good soldier?"  
  
"I only knew him as a cadet at the Academy. He was outstanding."  
  
For some reason the way Zechs lingered over that last word rather annoyed Wufei. "He struck me as rather--I don't know. A follower? He certainly jumps when Nakamura says to. And--well, he was wearing a collar. Like a dog. Even I know what that means, after being around Duo and Quatre."  
  
Zechs raised one pale eyebrow. "Does he? Well, well. But Masa was his training officer, and later his commander. You were never a line soldier, so you didn't have that sort of training. But he didn't have your training, either." Zechs paused and stroked the back of his fingers down Wufei's cheek. "You would have made a fascinating cadet. I've often thought so."  
  
"I still would never wear a dog collar!" Wufei grumbled.  
  
"Well, certainly not in public," Zechs murmured, and gave him an amused wink.  
  
"Oh please," Wufei rasped, though he colored a bit at the memory of wearing something quite a lot more shocking than a collar for Zechs not so long ago. "I'm in no condition to be teased!"  
  
Zechs kissed Wufei's fingers contritely. "Of course not, mei. Forgive me." He was quiet for a moment, and his eyes grew serious. "My love?" He paused again.  
  
"What?"  
  
Zechs shook his head. "Nothing. Would you like me to read to you to pass the time?"  
  
"No. You have something on your mind. I can tell. Please, Zechs, what is it?"  
  
Zechs looked down at him for a long moment, and Wufei could not quite read the expression in his eyes.   
  
At last Zechs said, "I fear I may have lied to you, love, though I didn't mean to at the time."  
  
Wufei's heart skipped a beat. His first thought was that Zechs had decided to go back to Masa. Part of him realized how irrational and disloyal that was, but he was weak and sick and he'd been jealous of the tall, handsome stranger from the moment he'd laid eyes on him.   
  
"The day we became lovers, I told you that I would never stand in your way, that I wanted you to do whatever you needed to do, knowing that I would always be there for you. Do you remember?"  
  
"Yes, I remember." Wufei's heart sank lower. This might be worse than he thought.  
  
"I meant it at the time," Zechs continued slowly, "but-- after all this?" He gestured around at the room, the regen unit, the monitors. "Wufei, it tore my heart out to see you go off in that uniform again. It wasn't just jealousy that you can still carry a gun and I can't legally, although I admit that was part of it. No, it was fear, and that fear is so much worse now that I've had to watch you die again and again. I was there every time your heart stopped beating, not knowing if they could bring you back again."   
  
Wufei watched in growing dismay as tears gathered in Zechs's eyes above the mask.   
  
"Every time I was certain I'd lost you!" Zechs continued softly. "I love you, Wufei, more than I've ever loved anyone in the world. But I don't know if I can stand to watch you walk away into danger without me again. I don't mean to give you an ultimatum. I'm only telling you the truth. I don't want to live in a world that doesn't have you in it. Masa told me how good you were in the field, and he wouldn't say that lightly, believe me. And just seeing you with Sally that day you left New Orleans--it was a side of you I don't know, a side Treize saw, perhaps, but I'd only imagined. You are warrior, Wufei, and if being in the Preventers is what you love, then I won't stand in your way, but I don't know--I don't know how I can bear it when you're gone, not knowing what's happening or if you're safe!"  
  
"Oh Zechs, is that it?" Wufei reached for his hand and clasped it. "I'm--well, to be honest I'm relieved! I was afraid you'd think less of me if I told you--"  
  
"Told me what, love?"  
  
Wufei sighed. "You still don't know that much about my background, Zechs, not the details. I _chose_ to be a scholar. I accepted becoming a Gundam pilot because it was necessary, and I did have the skills, and because I wanted revenge for the death of my wife. But it was never what I would have chosen for myself. As for Preventers? I was so broken and lost after the war, it was the only thing I thought I was suited for. I saw it as a useful occupation, nothing more. You have no idea how miserable I was before I met you. I didn't come alive until you reached out to me, and I haven't been this happy in years as I am with you. No, that's not right. I've never been happier than I have been, these past few months. To have someone as educated and cultured as you love me? I don't love you only with my body, Zechs, but with my mind and soul. I fully alive again for the first time since before the war and I love it, that I can share that with you. You told me once that poetry is your first love, even before warfare. It's the same with me. I put that Preventer uniform back on for my friends, because I saw it as the best way to help them. But it was never for any reason more than that."  
  
He paused, sure he was just rambling now. It was exhausting, pouring out his feelings like this, but he forced himself on, knowing he had Zechs's full attention. "That mission is over. All I want now is to go back to how things were between us, and to find some useful occupation that springs from that, not from fighting and violence. Remember the catalogue of universities you gave me for my birthday? That made me think that you understood. I think--I think I might like to get a degree, perhaps teach or write. Would you mind it very much, Zechs, if I didn't want to be a warrior anymore?"  
  
Zechs stared at him, then slowly shook his head. "Oh, mei, I would love that! But you're not just saying all this to please me, are you? I would never want you to force yourself to become anything but what you wish to be."  
  
Wufei smiled up at him. "I swear to you, on the names of my ancestors, Zechs Merquise, that there are only two things I wish to be, above all others: a peaceful man, and your lover."  
  
+  
  
Zechs could hardly catch his breath as Wufei spoke. The naked honesty in that wan face, the way Wufei's hand trembled in his, and the way his voice shook with emotion made him tremble himself. The urge to take the boy in his arms was painfully strong, but Zechs had to settle for kissing Wufei's brow and lips through the damned mask as he fought to get control of his own overwhelming emotions.   
  
"Wufei, my love!" he rasped, holding that hand to his cheek now as he gazed into those dark eyes. "There is only one thing that could make me any happier than I am at this moment, something I wanted to ask you before you left New Orleans. This isn't quite the setting I'd imagined, but I can't wait any longer."  
  
He paused, kissing each finger and the palm of Wufei's hand. "A week ago I would have said that I couldn't imagine life without you. These past few days, I have had too many moments of knowing exactly that. Life without you would be no life at all, my love. Chang Wufei, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"  
  
He held his breath, watching Wufei's reaction carefully, and was shocked to see tears welling up in those black eyes before Wufei turned his face away. At the same time, however, Wufei's fingers tightened painfully around his.  
  
"My love, what's wrong?" Zechs asked anxiously. "Damn, I've chosen a terrible time to spring this on you, haven't I? I'm so-"  
  
"No, no that's not it," Wufei whispered, closing his eyes as if he was in pain. "I--nothing would make me happier, but--"  
  
"But what? Can't you tell me, mei?"  
  
Wufei opened his eyes again and looked up at him, as tears broke free of his thick lashes and rolled down his cheeks. "Duty! Damnable duty! I was raised to it and I realize now it's not so easily outrun."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Wufei squeezed his hand again. "I am the last of my clan, one of the last of my people, since the destruction of L-5. All the time I was growing up, I was told that if I did not have children, my great line would end with me. Ever since I realized what my true nature is, ever since I fell in love with you, I have been trying to tell myself that it doesn't matter. But I cannot escape my heritage, Zechs. I could not live with the guilt of it. How can you want me, knowing that I must procreate with another, make a family with-with some--" He broke off as more tears fell. "And it's the same with you, isn't it? You're the last male heir of a royal line. Could you face your ancestors if you let that line die out?"  
  
Zechs blinked as the basis of Wufei's fears sank in. He blinked again, then let out a husky laugh of relief. "Is that all?"  
  
"Is that all?" Wufei echoed, shocked.  
  
"Well, I admit, you're looking farther ahead than I have been, but you're quite right. We should have children some day, and we can. Together."  
  
"H--how? What are you talking about?" Wufei demanded, still miserable.  
  
"Haven't you heard of homogametic embryogenesis?" He let go of Wufei's hand long enough to dry the boy's tears and wipe his nose with a corner of the sheet.   
  
"Nuh-no! What's that?" Wufei asked, unconsciously turning his face to press into Zechs's touch.   
  
Zechs recaptured his hand. "It's all very technical, but as I understand it, the genetic material is removed from a donor egg, and replaced with the nucleus of a man's sperm cell which has been screened to guarantee it contains the X chromosome. After that, the process is the same as any external gestation process, which are so common in the colonies. The egg is fertilized in vitro with the sperm of another man, and the resulting embryo is placed in a gestation chamber. Nine months later, our very own biological child is born. They've been doing it on L-2 and L-3, and in some of the Scandinavian countries here on Earth for several years now."  
  
Wufei's eyes were wide with amazement now. "They can really do that? You and I? We could really have children of our own?"  
  
Zechs smiled down at him, relieved at his reaction. He'd worried that Wufei's upbringing might not allow him to consider the possibility, but instead he looked thrilled at the prospect. "Imagine it, Wufei. The mingling of the Dragon clan with the Peacecraft line. I think our children will be very beautiful and intelligent, don't you? How could they not be?"  
  
Wufei looked positively dazed now as he tried to imagine it.   
  
"Of course, I think we are both rather young to be parents just yet," Zechs added gently. "You have your education and a career to think of first, and I'd like time for us to just be a couple. But yes, someday when we're both ready, I would love to have children with you. As many as you like!"  
  
Wufei was crying again, but this time joy shone in his eyes. "Then my answer is yes, Zechs. Nothing would make me happier than to marry you!"  
  
"It's settled, then," Zechs said, his heart bursting with happiness. "You concentrate on getting better now, and we'll talk about details when you're feeling better. You've made me very happy, mei."  
  
Wufei pulled Zech's hand to his cheek and sighed contentedly. "I never would have imagined it, that first day we met."  
  
"I doubt my dear sister did, either, when she requested you for that security detail," Zechs agreed with a dry laugh. "Would you like to be with me when I tell her? It should be-interesting."  
  
"Would you think me a terrible coward if I said no?" Wufei mumbled. He looked exhausted again.  
  
Zechs stroked his forehead gently and watched those dark eyes flutter shut again. "No my love," he chuckled softly. "I'd think you very wise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >OK Wuffie fans; happy now? ;-)
> 
> >As far as I know the fertilization process I described is not being done, but it's conceivable (I made a pun!) given recent developments in genetic technology. For those of you who haven't had just enough bio background to be dangerous, as I have, the female egg cell contains only the X sex chromosome. A male sperm cell can have an X or a Y. When fertilization occurs, XX = girl baby; XY = boy. I don't believe a YY fertilizations would result in a viable embryo, so the male "egg substitute" would have to be an X carrier. I for one would love to see the children that Wu and Zechs would make, and I think this issue would be an important one for someone like Wufei, but I don't do male pregnancy stories, so here's my solution. *grin*
> 
> 3/23: Thanks to Maxwell's Demon for professional advice in the male fertilization technique. She wrote: "Nice hypothesis on the "dual zygotic cytogenesis". "Homo(meaning "same")-gametic embryogenesis" would work as well. "Dual zygotic cytogenesis" sounds a little repeatitive. A zygote, which is a diploid cell, is formed after the fusion of two haploid cells (sperm and egg, which are called gametes). The zygote becomes a viable embryo after going through many stages of division and implantation in the uterus. But I'm just a picky microbiologist! ^_^ Its always nice to see that someone who understands the basic laws of genetics can be creative. If parthenogenesis is possible and it is, then maybe male-male fertilization can be possible at some point as well."


	87. Sessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_December 13, AC 198_  
 _Transcript entry by: Dr. Thomas R. Batoosingh_  
 _Outpatient Services_  
 _Winner Memorial Veterans Hospital_  
 _L-2 Colony_  
  
_Interview conducted at:_  
 _Tokyo General Hospital, Tokyo, Japan_  
 _Dr. Kisho Kano, Attending Physician_  
 _Dr. Maria Estella Santos, Consulting Physician_  
  
_Subject: H Y, (Subject D M also in attendance)_  
 _Notes for Psychiatric Session #25_  
  
_Subject HY interviewed in his hospital room. He is recovering from six gunshot wounds incurred only two days earlier, yet I find him sitting up in a wheel chair, dressed in pajama pants and an expensive looking brown silk kimono. DM and T B-W are with him when I arrive. B-W excuses himself, but I ask D to remain. HY shows no emotion._  
  
_This is the first time in several months I have seen H in person. He has lost weight again, but is clean-shaven and his hair has been trimmed back to a shorter length, though a bit longer than it was during the war. I have gotten used to his dour aspect, and can read his expressions better than I used to. He is clearly depressed, withdrawn, and anxious. D sits next to him in a chair, watching him anxiously, apparently wishing to offer comfort, but H's hands remain clasped together in his lap. Not looking at D._  
  
_I take a chair opposite them and begin the session._  
  
How are you feeling today, H?  
  
HY: Dr. Kano says I am healing very quickly. I always do.  
  
I mean emotionally, H. You've been through a lot, these past few weeks. You've confronted your worst demons, one might say.  
  
HY: _(shrugs)_ I did not handle the situation well.   
  
How so? You're alive. D is alive. That little boy upstairs is alive.  
  
HY: _(tensing visibly, scowl deepens)_ D, Q, and T are seriously wounded, and their show is in jeopardy. At least eleven boys are dead.   
  
And you feel this is your fault? Why?  
  
HY: You know why.  
  
No, I don't.   
  
HY: I'm really not in the mood for your mind games, doctor.  
  
I'm not playing games, H. I want to know what makes you responsible for all that?  
  
HY: _(keeps gaze on his hands, but I see his knuckles go white as he clenches his hands. Jaw clenches as well. I suspect if he were capable, he would be pacing the room. When he speaks at last, he is shouting. Unusual loss of control for this subject.)_ The mission! The damn, fucked up mission in Kisarazu!   
  
The inaccurate information you received; that was your fault? Because that's what D told me. Your handler, the one who actually set up that mission, as he always did, made a mistake. You simply followed orders.  
  
HY: _(silent, withdrawn.)_  
  
DM: H? You know that's the truth. How could that be your fault?  
  
HY: I carried out the mission. I killed those people. I'm responsible.  
  
You're wrong, H. _(This earns me a very dangerous look, the first direct eye contact he's made since we began our conversation.)_ You are, and I think deep down, you know you are, but it is easier on your conscience to take the guilt upon yourself, since there is no way to rectify the situation after the fact. Punishing yourself is the only way you can imagine fixing an unfixable situation.  
  
DM: That's what I've been trying to tell him!  
  
HY: Neither of you understand.  
  
I wasn't a soldier, H, so perhaps you're correct about me. But what about D? He not only understands your wartime experience, because he lived it, but he knew you then and knows you now. I think you should listen to him.  
  
HY: _(unresponsive.)_  
  
Well, let's step away from that for a moment and turn to another aspect of your fixation with this situation. Do you believe that if you had not carried out that unfortunate raid that Hato and his associates would not have become murdering sociopaths? Because that is what they were. Do you think you "turned" them into that?"  
  
HY: Yes.  
  
Well, you're wrong again. That sort of pathology takes years to develop and starts in early childhood. I can guarantee you that Heidiki Hato was torturing and killing neighborhood pets years before you were born. That raid of yours may have given him a focus, but I promise you, even without that, he would have found a reason to rape, torture and murder young boys. He might have chosen to do it in a different town, or chosen boys with different looks, but he would have been a serial killer, one way or the other.  
  
HY: Even if you're right, then I am still responsible for those particular boys being killed. Because of me he went after them, because they looked like me.   
  
The Preventers forensics teams are working to identify the dead boys. Two have already been identified, because they were runaways, rather than homeless. _(I show him the photographs provided by Sally Po.)_ Tell me, do either of them look like your twin, H?  
  
HY: _(accepts the photographs from me and studies them in silence.)_  
  
DM: Hair's different. No blue eyes. H, neither of them looks that much like you, except that they're the right age, sort of your build, and Japanese. You saw Y. They cut his hair and dressed him up like you, but he doesn't really look like you at all.  
  
HY: I was still the catalyst.  
  
That's true. But that does not make it your fault. Come with me. I want to show you something.  
  
With D's help, I take H to the boy, Y's, room. I examined the boy earlier in the day. He was in a state of deep shock and unresponsive, except for fear responses. It is necessary to sedate him before he can be bathed or his dressings attended to. I arranged with the evening nurse for him to be alert when I brought H to see him.  
  
HY become visibly agitated when he recognizes the pediatrics floor, but says nothing.   
  
Y is awake and propped up in bed, his face clearly visible. As I requested, his hair has been cut into a style that in no way resembles HY's. When we enter he displays fear, but says nothing.  
  
DM: See, H? They're taking really good care of him. He doesn't look like you, does he? It was just the haircut and the clothes, that's all. See, his eyes are brown.  
  
HY: _(remains silent.)_   
  
You saved his life, H. If you had not gone to Japan when you did, he would be dead. He barely made it as it was. Your quick thinking in tying off the gunshot wound, and the fact that the combined efforts of you and the Preventers team exposed Hato's hideout when you did; all that saved this child's life.   
  
HY: But not all those other dead boys.  
  
No, that's true. But how could you have done anything, not knowing what was going on? That was all buried far too deep in your subconscious, and I would guess that you had no idea that any other children had been treated as you were. Did you see any other bodies when they held you captive that first time?  
  
HY: No, I don't remember any.  
  
But we can safely assume now that you were meant to be one of those corpses, correct? If you had not somehow escaped that first time, if Hato had not realized his error and taunted you into coming back, then not only would this child have died, but dozens, perhaps hundreds more boys would have died in the most degrading and agonizing fashion. You may not have saved the boys who came before this one, but you have saved all those who would surely have followed. Someone like Hato? He doesn't stop until someone else stops him. And unlike most serial killers, he was not acting alone. He had accomplices, and a support group of sick individuals who were feeding his obsession.   
  
(It is unclear whether HY is taking any of this in. He simply sits there, staring at the boy. His expression has softened a bit.)  
  
DM: Listen to the doc, H. He's telling you the truth. You've got to know that, right? Hato won't hurt anyone else, ever. Not ever! Maybe we screwed up, the way we did things, but it turned out good!  
  
_(HY remains unresponsive, but as we move to go, the boy in the bed stirs, turns his head and focuses on HY.)_  
  
Y: Yuy-sama?  
  
_(This is, as far as I know, the first time the boy has spoken since arriving at the hospital. DM visited but got no sign of recognition. He pushes HY's chair to the bed and steps back.)_  
  
_HY speaks to the boy briefly in Japanese. Y reaches out and HY takes his hand. They remain like that for a moment, and then HY reaches down and retrieves a stuffed animal from beside the bed and gives it to the boy, who shyly accepts it. HY asks to go, and as we return to the elevator I see tears in HY's eyes, but he will not talk about what passed between him and the boy, except that Y thanked him and DM for saving his life. Back in HY's room, he complains of being tired._  
  
_Session terminated at 5:38 pm._  
  
+  
  
When Heero was settled in bed, Batoosingh drew Duo out into the hallway for a private talk. "That went very well."  
  
"Really? I've never seen him so low! It's been getting worse all day," Duo asked, feeling shaky and tired. It had been a long day and his wounds ached like crazy, but he could tell that Batoosingh had more to say. He stole a worried look back through the doorway. Heero was lying on his back, staring at nothing. "I don't like leaving him alone."  
  
"That's wise, but I don't think he's in immediate danger. He's still too weak to leave on his own, and the staff have been alerted and are monitoring him very carefully. I would like to avoid moving him to a psychiatric unit if possible."  
  
Duo nodded quickly. "Yeah, me, too."   
  
"There are some things I need to discuss with you."   
  
Batoosingh guided him to the chairs against the corridor wall and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I believe much of what we're seeing in Heero's behavior is physiological."  
  
Duo swallowed hard. "Oh man, that sounds bad!"  
  
"Actually, it's good news, Duo. It means that Heero has a chemical imbalance that is contributing to his depressive state. Don't mistake me; he has significant emotional scars which must be addressed, and that may take a long time, but I think a lot of his current depression can be alleviated with the proper medication. Our first task is to stabilize him physically as much as possible. That will make it much, much easier for him to do the therapeutic work he needs." He reached into his briefcase, pulled out a thick folder of paperwork, and placed it in Duo's lap.   
  
Duo opened it and found what looked like a bunch of lab reports. The one on top dated back to end of the war. Some of them were in Spanish. The ones on the bottom were partially in Japanese and had been taken yesterday.  
  
"This is a complete history of Heero's bloodwork. I've been consulting with Dr. Santos on Heero's case," Batoosingh explained. "She and I thought we were seeing some significant patterns in Heero's endocrine levels in Madrid, but we had insufficient data to draw any positive conclusions. Since then some of his wartime records have been recovered, though they are incomplete. Now we have more fresh data. I've been watching Heero's blood levels since September, and the latest readings were taken here at this hospital, as you can see. The results seem to bear out what Dr. Santos and I suspected."  
  
"Cut to the chase, doc, in plain English," Duo demanded. "What's wrong with Heero's blood?"  
  
"Nothing, Duo. It's not actually his blood, but the hormone levels that we've been monitoring. As I told you in Madrid, Heero's levels of things like serotonin, adrenaline, endorphins, testosterone and the like have fluctuated far outside normal boundaries over the years. We now believe that the conditioning he received at the hands of Dr. J involved the intentional manipulation of Heero's endocrine system, in order to enhance his capacity as a soldier. Or more accurately, as a programmed weapon of war. As demonstrated in the shifts I see in the recent workups, Heero's body reacts to potentially threatening situations by increasing his levels of aggressive hormones, including adrenaline and testosterone, while at the same time suppressing production of serotonin and other brain chemicals that contribute to self-preservation. In other words, he was programmed to completely focus on achieving given mission objectives, with a complete disregard for his own safety or that of anyone he saw as standing in his way."  
  
Duo slumped back in his seat and scratched under his braid. "Wow. That makes total sense. I mean, we all just thought he was just insanely brave or something, the way he acted during the war. You're saying it was just J monkeying around with his brain?"  
  
"Not entirely. From what I've seen of Heero, he is very brave, and willing to make great sacrifices for others. I think J chose him for that reason. It made him the ideal candidate for that kind of conditioning. The job was already half done." Batoosingh shook his head sadly. "In our first session, he told me he felt like a killing machine that J had forgotten to turn off. There's some truth to that. Without his conditioning being updated, without clear mission objectives being handed to him, as they were during the war, he lost focus and had no clear outlet for the programmed behavior. That would account for his deep depression by the war's end, as well as his decision to join Preventers, which must have offered some sense of purpose that meshed with his conditioning. It's why he decided to protect all of you from himself by disappearing, too. He was incapable of asking for help, since he perceived himself as a threat to those he cared for. I can only speculate that time and physical debility wore down that conditioning enough for him to contact you before he tried to kill himself, and to contact you when his mind cleared later. I hope you appreciate the significance of that? It was you who enabled him to overcome that conditioning."  
  
Duo nodded slowly, thinking of that night in Finland. Heero talked like he'd broken training.  
  
"The fact that he recovered as quickly and to the extent that he did, living with you and the others; it's a testament to his strength," the doctor continued. "Really, Duo, no one should have survived what he has, and certainly not come out as sane as he is."  
  
"Is he, doc?"  
  
Batoosingh gave him another comforting smile. "Oh yes. The conditioning seems to have kicked in again with the threat posed by Hato, but he maintained remarkable self-control until Quatre and Trowa were physically attacked. Anyone would have wanted to retaliate. Heero was uniquely equipped to do so. So were you, for that matter, and I'm sure the others would have gone along if they'd been able to."  
  
"Once a terrorist, always a terrorist?"  
  
"I wouldn't put it in those terms, Duo. You all have skills and training that make direct action seem like the top option in such a situation. And, with the exception of Chang, you all preferred to circumvent legal channels."  
  
"We didn't want the press all over it," Duo said. "Too late for that though, I guess."  
  
"You'll all weather this. And public opinion seems to be very much on your side. There have actually been 'pro-Gundam' rallies here and in New Orleans, as well as in some of the colonies. Relena Peacecraft has been very vocal on the subject."  
  
Duo rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "Great. So, where's that leave Heero?"  
  
"Unadol seems to work with his unusual system. I'm prescribing a much higher than normal dosage for him, to see if it can kick-start his system as we think it did last time. He'll need to be carefully monitored for side effects, but Dr. Kano and his staff are well qualified to do so. He needs more time to recuperate anyway, so we're killing two birds with one stone, as it were. He'll need your love and support more than ever now."  
  
"He's got that, doc, as much as he needs! But when do you think I can take him home? Back to New Orleans, I mean? That's about the only home we have right now."  
  
"I would hope in a week or so. However--"  
  
"However what?"  
  
"Well, another very important element of Heero's recovery has to be a stress free environment. I've picked up on some tension between the four of you."  
  
"The whole poly-whatever thing."  
  
"Yes. I know you're conflicted about that, and so is Heero. If staying with the Winner-Bartons in any way exacerbates those feelings, then perhaps other arrangement should be made. I'm not questioning the level of friendship that exists between you, but the unresolved sexual issues are more than he needs to or can deal with at the moment. I'm concerned for you, as well. Heero is too sick to be held responsible for anything he thinks or does right now, but it is still potentially a very hurtful situation for you."  
  
Duo stared down at his hands and shrugged. "I wish I knew what to tell you, doc. I love Tro and Kat, and I know Heero does, too. I know they love us. It's good, being with them, just--" He caught his breath and rubbed at his stinging eyes. He was *not* going to break down here in this fucking hallway!   
  
Batoosingh patted his shoulder again. "Duo, please don't take what I'm going to say as a slight of any sort. It's merely my professional observation. All of you were asked to function as adults far too young. Your childhoods were stolen from you, especially for you, Heero, and Trowa. You are all remarkable, resilient, and intelligent. You are amazing people. But the fact remains that you're all terribly young. What I see at times are four--no, five, for I must include Chang in this evaluation--five boys playing at being adults far too early. Quatre and Trowa were still children when they married. You and Heero have only just reached the age when most people would even begin to think in terms of a long-term commitment, yet you have formed one. Chang, too, seems to have entered a very mature relationship with Mr. Peacecraft. I'm not saying any of this is wrong; you're all so far outside the parameters of normal it's hard to place any expectation. But remarkable as you all are, you are all still very young, and all of you are emotionally damaged."  
  
"So what are you saying? That we should break up or something? Go find some families to adopt us? Try to live a normal life? Be kids?" Duo growled.   
  
"No. I don't really think that's an option. I just think you should all perhaps cut yourselves and each other some slack. I know you want to be everything Heero needs, just as Quatre wants that for Trowa, or Trowa for him. The fact that the four of you have moved beyond the norms of friendship in your group relationship, with little experience to know what you really want or need from the others. Just take things slowly, Duo, and try to help the others do the same?"  
  
Duo shrugged. "I'll try, but--Well, it's scary, you know?"  
  
"How so?"  
  
"They're my family, doc! I don't want to screw that up. I don't want to lose any of them!"  
  
"Of course you don't. But going along with something you're not comfortable with or ready for just to please someone else will be far more destructive than being honest. Let me ask you this. If you had to choose between the Winner-Bartons and Heero, who would you pick?"  
  
"Heero," Duo replied without any hesitation at all.  
  
Batoosingh smiled. "That's what I thought you'd say."  
  
Duo rubbed at his eyes again. "Think you're pretty damn smart, huh?"  
  
"Observant. You lived with Trowa and Quatre, slept with them, shared the most intimate feelings with them, but never became lovers, even when you thought Heero was dead. Then, when Heero reappeared, despite having had virtually no contact with him for nearly two years, you gave yourself to him in less than a week's time, without the slightest hesitation or regret, and in a way that you had never allowed with any other partner. Since then I've watched the two of you heal and grow together in a way that most people would envy. I may be a doctor and a man of science, but I can accept true love when I see it, too. So don't worry too much, Duo. You'll get him through this. You'll figure out what you need from life, and from your friends. I'll help you all I can, but you know as well as I do that it's you and Heero who must do the real work. I just help point the way."  
  
He gave Duo's shoulder a last affectionate squeeze. "You should go back in to him now. Just follow your heart, Duo, take your meds and make sure he takes his, and I do believe you'll be fine in time."  
  
They both stood, and on impulse, Duo threw his arms around the doctor and hugged him. He'd never done that before, but it just seemed the right thing to do. Batoosingh hugged him back, too.  
  
There didn't seem to be anything else to say after that, so Duo just waved and headed back in to see how Heero was doing.  
  
+  
  
Trowa hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He'd been on his way to see how Heero and Duo were when he heard Duo and the shrink coming out of Heero's room. Sheer impulse had made him duck into the empty room next door. Ever since that kiss with Heero, and all the weirdness from Heero and Quatre, he'd felt guilty every time he was around Duo without Heero or someone else there. He wasn't even sure why, but he did. So he'd hidden, assuming that Duo and Dr. Batoosingh were on their way elsewhere. But they'd stayed there in hall, a few feet from where he stood, and said all those things. At first he'd tried hard not to listen, but then he'd heard his own name and hadn't been able to help himself. By the time they'd parted, his heart was pounding and he was having trouble getting his breath. He sank down in a chair by the empty bed and put his head in his hands, fighting to get himself under control.   
  
He was so far gone into an anxiety attack that he didn't notice the startled little nurse who'd come in, seen him there like that, and quietly slipped out again. He didn't hear Duo come in a moment later, either, didn't even know he was there until Duo knelt down in front of him and put his arms around him.   
  
Trowa clung to him, inhaling the familiar sandalwood scent from Duo's freshly washed hair. It grounded him enough for him to loosen the death grip he had around the smaller boy.  
  
"Guess you heard all that, buddy?" Duo said against his shoulder, still holding him. He didn't sound angry, just sad and worried.  
  
Trowa managed a nod. "I'm sorry."  
  
"For what?" Duo said with a chuckled. "Being as screwed up as the rest of us?"  
  
"For making you feel bad. For somehow making you all think that I'm some sex crazed animal who'll self destruct if he can't just fuck-"  
  
"Don't!" Duo said, pulling back enough to cup Trowa's flushed face between his hands. "I don't think that."  
  
"Apparently Kat does," Trowa said bitterly. "And Heero, too. He actually suggested-"  
  
"I know. But the doc says we shouldn't hold that against him. Or Kat, either, probably. They got hurt the worst and they're still really messed up. Heero's got this guilt and depression thing going, and Kat's got his fucked up family on his back. And the show? It's a wonder any of us is still sane, huh?" He stroked Trowa's hair back from his eyes and looked into them, concerned. "I think-I think you should talk to the doc yourself, Tro. Don't get me wrong! I know how strong you are. You take good care of us. But that doesn't mean you don't deserve some help, too. And I don't know if any of us can give you what you need in that department. We're too close to you, and we've got too much history. Hell, even Heero thinks he's helpful, and you know how excited he is about talking about his feelings and stuff."  
  
Trowa managed a sad grin as he took Duo's hands in his. "I'll think about it."  
  
"Good. So, if you were listening in, you probably heard what the doc asked me, about who I'd choose?"  
  
"I understand, Duo. You were right to say that."  
  
"Well, what about you? If you had to choose between Kat and one of us, who would you pick?"  
  
Trowa gave him a sad smile. "Quatre, of course."  
  
"Good. Right answer. Give the man a gold star!" Duo was really smiling now, with no sadness in his eyes at all. He leaned up and kissed Trowa on the forehead. "I've always known that, and I've always been good with it. Hell, I think the world would probably stop spinning if the two of you ever broke up. It's like, part of the natural order of things."  
  
"I know," Trowa exclaimed softly. "So why is it that I keep trying to mess it up?"  
  
Duo shrugged. "Who says that's what you're trying to do? Go talk to Batoosingh, please? For yourself, and for all of us." He fixed Trowa with a serious look. "Promise me you will."  
  
Trowa hesitated, but Duo was unrelenting. "All right, all right! I'll talk to him."  
  
"Soon!"  
  
"Soon."  
  
Duo cupped Trowa's face in his hands again, gently stroking his cheeks. "Now I want you to look me in the eye and tell me, what do you most want to do right this minute?"  
  
Trowa sighed. "Go home to Quatre. But I don't want to run out on you guys."  
  
"I know that. Right answer again, buddy." Duo hugged him close. "Go home, Tro. Tell Kat to take a chill pill. Things are under control here and he needs you. And you need him. Go take care of your husband, Trowa."  
  
Trowa hugged him close, stroking his braid and shoulders and dangerously close to tears yet again. "I don't want to lose you and Heero, either!"  
  
"You won't. I promise you won't! We'll all work this out somehow, but first everyone has to get better, including you. You should be in PT for that knee."  
  
"I will."  
  
"Good." Duo stood and pulled Trowa to his feet. "So come say good-bye to Heero and then get the hell out of here!"  
  
But Trowa held him a moment longer. "When Heero gets out of the hospital, where will you go?"  
  
"Do you want us to come back to your place?"  
  
"Of course I do!"  
  
"Then that's where we'll go. I promise."  
  
"But the doctor said--"  
  
"Yeah, well, he means well. But he's no Gundam boy, is he? And you heard the man. We're a pretty unique bunch."  
  
Trowa nodded and let Duo lead him by the hand back to the room he shared with Heero. Heero took the news of his departure well, looking as if he thought it was the right thing to do, too.   
  
As Trowa bent to hug him good-bye, he looked up and said softly, "I'm sorry about what I said, about you and Duo."  
  
"It was the drugs," Trowa murmured back. "Get better, OK? That big bed's going to seem awfully empty without you two there." He moved to kiss Heero on the cheek, but the other man turned his head and kissed him on the lips instead, right there in front of Duo. Far from minding, Duo did the same.  
  
All the way back to his hotel room, and all during the long cab ride to the airport, he pondered those kisses. He felt no guilt, but couldn't imagine trying to explain it all to anyone, least of all a psychiatrist.  
  
Gazing at his reflection in the cab window, he murmured, "You are one messed up son if a bitch, but they love you."  
  
  
He caught a red eye flight and raced the sun, arriving in New Orleans jet lagged and disoriented. It was five thirty in the morning here. He took a cab to the hospital and found Rashid still on duty in the lobby.  
  
"Welcome back, Master Trowa," the huge Arab rumbled. It was the most respectfully he'd ever addressed Trowa. Rashid had known what Trowa was the moment they met that first time, back in the war, and he hadn't approved. The animosity had reached dangerous proportions when, in Rashid's eyes at least, Trowa had seduced and debauched his pure little Master Quatre. But now, for the first time, Trowa felt something like acceptance from the man.   
  
"It's good to be back," he replied. "How is he?"  
  
"I'm told he is progressing well. I do not have permission to see him."   
  
Trowa hesitated, seeing the longing in the man's dark eyes. "Well, I'll talk to him."   
  
Without waiting for the man's reaction, Trowa took the lift up and talked his way past nurses and security guards and into his beloved's room. Cathy was there, dozing on a cot beside Quatre's bed. Quatre lay cradled in a regen unit, covered by a thin sheet and held in place by two restraining straps across his shoulders and waist.   
  
Trowa gently shook his sister awake. She blinked up at him, and then hugged him tight. "He'll be so glad!" she whispered. Giving him a last happy kiss on the cheek, she winked and left him alone with Quatre.  
  
Trowa stood there, watching him sleep for a moment. Getting into bed with him was still out of the question. He went into the bathroom and took a quick shower, then brushed his teeth and used depilatory gel on his stubbly cheeks.  
  
He'd had every intent of lying down on the cot, but instead found himself bending over Quatre and kissing him gently on the forehead, and then on those sweet, lush lips. Quatre tasted slightly minty, like mouthwash. Trowa happily drank in that flavor, and the spicy, musky scent of his lover. A moment later he felt Quatre's arms around his neck, and those lips responding.   
  
When he pulled back he found Quatre gazing up at him with surprise and delight. "You should have let me know you were coming back!" he said softly.  
  
"You'd only have tried to talk me out of it," Trowa chided gently, and kissed him again. God, that felt good! He hadn't been able to really touch him like this for days and days! The kiss started innocent and affectionate, but quickly deepened and soon Quatre was sucking expertly at his tongue and lips.   
  
Trowa hummed happily and buried his fingers in Quatre's hair, remembering just in time to keep to the front of his scalp, avoiding the healing skin on the back of his head. Quatre had no such constraints. His arms were still healing in splints but his hands were steady as he stroked Trowa's hair and face and worked down his chest to rub his nipples and tweak his nipple ring through his tight tee shirt.   
  
Trowa pulled back a little and chuckled. "Easy, meli. You're still sick."  
  
"I'm hurt, corazon, I'm not sick!" Quatre purred, but Trowa saw him wince as he lowered his arms. "I've missed you so badly! Kiss me some more, please?"  
  
Trowa was delighted to oblige. He stroked Quatre's blond and blue hair and his face as he kissed him breathless. It was almost as good as lovemaking, he thought.  
  
Quatre must have thought the same, because his hand found Trowa's and guided it down his smooth, bare, unblemished chest, and on under the sheet to the hot, stiff erection tenting the front of his hospital pajama pants. Trowa found the drawstring and untied it, and slipped his hand inside to stroke Quatre's cock and caress his silky balls. Quatre hadn't had access to depilatory gel since the explosion; Trowa could feel a dusting of downy hair on Quatre's normally hairless sac and at the base of his cock. It felt nice. Perhaps he'd asked Quatre to ease up on the hair removal when he was well enough to talk about such things. For now, Trowa brushed his fingertips over the new growth and was thrilled at the way the silky short hairs stood on end at his touch.  
  
Quatre arched a little under his hand, held in place by the restraining bands. "Oh Trowa! Yes, that feels so good!"  
  
"I should stop," Trowa whispered back, though his body was screaming just the opposite. "You shouldn't move around on the unit--"  
  
"I won't. I'll lie still, I promise," Quatre moaned, pushing at his hand again. "But please, don't stop. I've missed you so much! Touch me, Trowa!"   
  
And Trowa did. He went back to kissing, thrusting his tongue gently into Quatre's hot hungry mouth as he stroked and teased Quatre's cock. His thumb found a generous welling of precum at the slit and he smeared it around, taking advantage of the natural lubrication. Quatre moaned into his mouth again.   
  
Quatre kept his promise and didn't move, but he was trembling in a way that Trowa knew and loved. Trowa knew he had to keep it all gentle, but that was so easy. Loving Quatre, giving his beautiful adorable, meddling, over-protective little husband exactly what *he* needed was pure joy for Trowa.  
  
"Oh, Trowa!" Quatre sighed, his voice deep and rough with arousal.   
  
"Are you in any pain?" Trowa asked, not so far gone as to lose sight of Quatre's condition.  
  
"No, drugged up," Quatre replied against his lips. "Feels so good! More? Please, baby. I need you so bad!"  
  
Trowa gave him a last, lingering kiss, then nipped and licked his way down Quatre's chest and quivering belly, and took that weeping erection into his mouth, worshipping him with tongue and lips.   
  
"Oh! Ooooooooooooh!" Quatre sighed, ecstatic. "Oh, so good!"  
  
"Mmmmmmmm," Trowa agreed around hot, throbbing flesh. He cupped Quatre's balls with one hand, rolling and squeezing just the way he knew Quatre loved, and with his left he fumbled his own jeans open and fisted his aching cock.   
  
"Yes, yes, yes!" Quatre moaned. "Oh yes, baby, pleasure yourself while you suck me! So beautiful! You are so fucking beautiful, Trowa Barton!"  
  
That's all it took. Trowa thrust hard into his own tight fist a few more times and came hard all over the side of the bed, all the while never missing a beat as he sucked and licked Quatre. His own orgasm made him gasp and moan and take Quatre down his throat as deeply as he could. With a low cry, Quatre came hard, filling Trowa's mouth with his thick, salty sweet essence. Trowa swallowed greedily and sucked him clean until Quatre giggled and begged him to stop, too sensitive from coming to stand any more.  
  
Trowa cleaned himself up with a hand towel from the bathroom, then collapsed in the armchair by the bed and took Quatre's hot little hand in his with a contented sigh.   
  
Quatre pulled Trowa's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. "Welcome home, my love."  
  
Trowa smiled over at him as exhaustion caught up with him and his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. "Good to be home, meli. Good to be home."


	88. Sun and Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Dr. B wasn't kidding when he said he was going to give Heero a major dose of that medication, Unadol. The first hit knocked Heero out and he slept all day. Batoosingh and Dr. Kano kept a close eye on his vitals and Duo was left with nothing to do but be bored and feel useless.   
  
Trowa called him from Kat's hospital room at lunchtime and the three of them chatted for a while, but there wasn't much new to say. Both of them looked one hundred percent better, though, Duo noted with satisfaction. Trowa was stretched out on the bed beside Quatre and even long distance through a vid phone, Duo could see how peaceful and happy they were together. Kat had that special glow as he rested his head on Trowa's shoulder, like he and Tro had been messing around under the sheets. Trowa held him close with one arm, looking more relaxed than he had since before all this, and the shadows were gone from his eyes.  
  
Duo had a session with Dr. B there in the room that afternoon, and for once it was actually hard to come up with much to talk about. As bad as the mess up with Hato had been, now that he was past it Duo found he honestly didn't feel all that traumatized by it.   
  
"Can you explain why?" the doc asked.  
  
"Well, back during the war missions went wrong, and sometimes some other pilot showed up to pull the other guy's fat out of the fire, like Wu did for us. And back then, if someone got shot, it was just part of the price you paid for screwing up. So long as everyone walked away in the end, no harm, no foul, right?"  
  
Dr. Batoosingh let him rattle on like this, jotting down his little notes and nodding now and then. When Duo finally talked himself out, he looked up. "So, Duo, how do you feel right now?"  
  
"Feel?" Duo had to think about that. "I guess I feel OK. It's over. Like you told Heero, we stopped Hato, even if we went about it a totally half-assed. I wanted the bastard dead and he's dead. So what if Zechs finished him off. I put a few slugs in the guy first. Now Heero's safe, and Hato can't hurt any more boys." He shook his head, tugging absently at the end of his braid. "That was rough, seeing all those bodies, and what they'd done to Yuki."  
  
"That hit close to home for you, didn't it, the way he'd been abused?"  
  
"Yeah, it sure did. But it didn't mess me up like you might think. It's almost like by shutting Hato and his gang down, I was getting back at all the fuckers who hurt me. I mean, I know it doesn't really work that way, but that's how it feels."  
  
"It does work that way," Batoosingh told him, with that gentle smile of his. "You can't change the past, but you can control how it affects you in the here and now."  
  
Duo grinned. "Can't step in the same river twice? Isn't that how you put it once?"   
  
"Yes. And in the here and now, you chose to act, not be a victim. You were strong for yourself, for Heero, and for that boy. You can't change the past, but you can overcome it and leave it behind. I think you're really doing that at last, Duo."  
  
"Does that mean you're out of a job with me, doc?"   
  
Batoosingh smiled again. "I hope to be very soon.  
  
Duo stood and stretched, feeling a little more give around his stitches today. "Good, because I've got a new patient lined up for you, and he's going to be a real handful."  
  
+  
  
When Heero slept on through the dinner hour nurses came in and reinserted an IV line and catheter. Duo turned away, wincing as they did that. Heero wasn't going to be very pleased. Dr. Batoosingh came in and had another hit of meds given through the IV line.   
  
"He won't wake up tonight," he told Duo. "You should go visit your friends. They could use the company and so could you."  
  
Duo had to agree. He'd read everything in the room at least once and couldn't make sense of Japanese television. A lot of the shows looked interesting and it was just too frustrating not to be able to understand what anyone was saying.   
  
He was also tired of moping around in pajamas. He took a shower, washed and braided his hair, and pulled on some loose jeans and a tee-shirt Trowa had brought for him. Sticking his feet into hospital slippers, he took the elevator up to the ICU.   
  
Some of the restrictions had been lifted on Wufei's room. He had to put on a cloth gown over his clothes and a clean pair of slippers, but he could go in and sit with them. Inside, he saw that they'd moved a bed in for Zechs, too.   
  
"Duo! You look much better," Wufei said, his voice still soft and weak.  
  
"So do you, buddy," Duo said, pulling up a chair next to Zechs's.  
  
The end of Wufei's bed was cranked up and he was propped up on a bunch of pillows. He still had a regen unit on his chest, but this one was smaller and more compact, held in place by some straps so he could move around a little while wearing it. He was still a lot thinner than normal and looked tired, but his color was better and his hair was clean. And he was smiling. Really smiling. In all the time Duo had known him, even back in New Orleans, Wufei hadn't been much of a smiler, but he sure looked happy now. So did Zechs, for that matter, though it was less of an event with him.  
  
"What's up?" asked Duo. Then his eye fell on the open laptop Zechs was holding.  
  
Still working one handed, Zechs was too slow closing the computer, and now he was blushing. Zechs Merquise, blushing! And no wonder, Duo thought; he'd had time to read the site name: "Polynesian Honeymoon Packages."  
  
Duo raised an eyebrow. Wufei was trying hard to look stern and dignified, and failing completely. He was blushing so hard he looked like he already had tropical sunburn.   
  
"Uh, you two got something you want to say? And don't try telling me you're becoming wedding planners, because I ain't buying it."  
  
The pair exchanged a quick look, then Zechs shrugged and nodded. Wufei was still struggling to look like his stiff, dignified self, but the blush was still working against him. "We wanted to wait until our plans were more settled to make a formal announcement, but since you've guessed anyway--" He paused and took a deep breath, looking like he was bracing for a bad reaction. "Zechs has asked me to marry him, and I have agreed."  
  
Duo let out a whoop and leapt up from his chair, too happy to much mind the painful reminder of his stitches. Zechs rose, probably fearing that Duo was going to jump on Wufei and hug him or something. Duo had more sense than that of course; he hugged Zechs and gave him a big sloppy smooch on the cheek. Still hanging onto him with one arm, he bent down and gave Wufei a careful peck.  
  
"That's so great!" he laughed, flopping back in his chair. "Jeeze, Zechsy, talk about the Lightning Count, huh? You sure work fast, but that's OK! I'm totally thrilled for you guys. I mean, I was just kidding when I told you to save me a dance at your wedding, you know, but it's not like this is real surprise. When's the big day? Where are you gonna do it? That L-2 wedding chapel Tro and Kat used was pretty cheesy, but that was on purpose, to piss Kat's family off. You guys probably want something classier, huh? Have you told Relena yet? Are you gonna do the whole double name thing like Tro and Kat? Wait, are you legally Merquise or Peacecraft-?"  
  
Wufei raised a wry eyebrow, waiting for him to pause for breath.   
  
"Oops. Guess I got a little carried away," Duo laughed and sat down. "So? Spill!"   
  
"We haven't decided on a date or location yet, but I'm quite certain it won't be at any L-2 chapel," Zechs told him, grinning as he sat down on the edge of the bed and took Wufei's hand.   
  
"Certainly not!" Wufei sniffed.   
  
"As for Relena, she's arriving to visit me tomorrow afternoon. I plan to tell her then." Zechs looked less than enthused at the prospect.  
  
"Think she'll give you a hard time about it?"   
  
"Probably. Not that it will make any difference, of course. The Sanque Kingdom ratified same sex unions before the war. My status as one of the royal family could complicate matters but I've already abdicated." He shrugged again, but Duo thought he caught a flash of concern from Wufei. And Zechs hadn't answered the name question, either. Duo let it go.   
  
"Well, if you need any help planning things, you should talk to Quatre. He really got into all that."   
  
"I've seen pictures of their wedding," Zechs said, chuckling. "I think we might want something a bit lower-key, don't you, mei?"  
  
"Hn." Wufei was staring down at their joined hands now, looking uncomfortable. At last he looked up at Duo, the happiness replaced by guilt. "I insulted them terribly, didn't I, by not coming to their wedding? It was heartless of me, the way I treated them."  
  
"Yeah, it was." There was no point in sugar coating it now. Deep down, Duo guessed he was still sort of angry with Wu about that. Duo had been there, and he'd helped pick up the pieces of Kat's heart when that cold, last minute email had finally arrived a few days before the ceremony.   
  
"I've apologized to them both, and they accepted it, but I honestly never realized until now how much I must have hurt them," Wufei went on softly.  
  
"Bad," Duo told him honestly. "Real bad."  
  
"It was inexcusable, of course. I--I just didn't think anyone would care if I was there or not," Wufei murmured.  
  
Duo was shocked to see the glimmer of tears in those dark, proud eyes. He knew from experience how much it took to make Wufei cry. "Hey, you apologized, right? They wouldn't have accepted it if they didn't mean it. Besides, since then we figured out how messed up you were, before, you know?" He gestured at Zechs. "None of us were there for you, either."  
  
Wufei shrugged and blinked back the unshed moisture. "How could you have known, when I was so determined to shut everyone out? The fault was mine alone. Things are different now. I would like to invite them to the ceremony. Would they be insulted, do you think? Would it open old wounds?"   
  
Duo sighed. "I can't answer for them, but I really think Quatre would be hurt if you didn't invite them. I think you should, and let them decide."  
  
Wufei still looked so sad about it that Duo wanted to hug him. Instead he struck a sexy pose in his chair, arching back with his hands behind his head. "Hey, if you need a bridesmaid I still got my leather kilt!"  
  
"Really now, Maxwell, that wouldn't be in the least appropriate," Zechs said, stroking the back of Wufei's hand with his thumb as he gave Duo a disapproving look and a wink at the same time. "I was thinking more along the lines of a nice, tasteful cocktail frock. We already know you have the legs for it."  
  
Wufei shook his head, trying very hard to look disapproving, even as the corners of his eyes tilted up. "Wonderful. Now I have two crazy men to deal with."


	89. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei hadn't really expected Duo to have any objection to their engagement, and he'd told himself repeatedly that it wouldn't matter even if he did. So he was rather surprised by his own relief at Duo's obvious joy at the news. And of course he'd known Duo and Zechs were only joking about Duo attending in a dress. He'd gone along with the joke and given them the reaction they'd wanted.   
  
That still left the other three to tell. He suspected that Quatre's reaction would be along the lines of Duo's, and Heero probably wouldn't care one way or the other, but Trowa? He couldn't help a twinge of dread at the thought of telling Trowa. Quatre's forgiveness had been warm and heartfelt. Trowa's had been far more reserved.   
  
But that concern certainly paled in the face of Relena's immanent arrival. He dreamed about it all night before her arrival, imagining all sorts of disastrous scenarios that invariably ended with him losing Zechs. He woke the following morning tired and in low spirits. Zechs was edgy, too, though he was going out of his way to hide it.   
  
After an early breakfast Zechs gave Wufei a thorough sponge bath and helped him into clean pajama trousers and his yukata, then went to shower and dress. Relena was due around eleven. Left alone with his own thoughts, Wufei stared morosely out the window for a few minutes, then found the TV remote and turned it to the local news.   
  
He hadn't watched the news for several days. The revelations about Hato's murder ring and the hospitalization of the famous Gundam boys had filled the airwaves and Wufei was sick of it all. Now Relena' arrival to visit her famous brother and his friends had the whole city in an excited dither.   
  
Wufei was watching live coverage of Relena deplaning at Tokyo International when Zechs came out of the bathroom with wet hair, wearing nothing but a pair of charcoal dress slacks. The bandages on his left shoulder had been changed. They were clean and much less bulky than they had been. Wufei winced inwardly at the sight of the smaller stump of his arm. It was several inches shorter than it had been.  
  
Zechs caught his look and smiled as he stroked Wufei's cheek. "They've taken measurements for my new arm already, Wufei. I'll be as good as new in no time."  
  
He sat down by the bed and went to work awkwardly a towel and comb.   
  
"Come here," Wufei ordered. Zechs shifted over onto the bed within easy reach and Wufei combed his hair for him as they watched TV. Relena appeared in an impeccable ivory suit and hat, smiling as warmly as ever and granting a brief interview to the pack of reporters.  
  
"Ambassador Peacecraft, are you here to see Heero Yuy or your brother?" one asked.  
  
A flicker of surprise crossed her face. "Why both, of course. All of them."  
  
"But isn't it true that you had a falling out with Yuy and your brother over their homosexuality?" the same reporter persisted.   
  
"Haven't you been estranged from your brother since he announced his abdication in October?" demanded another.  
  
"What? Certainly not!" she replied, looking hurt and shocked.   
  
In truth, neither of she nor Zechs had made any effort to contact the other until she'd called the hospital here the day they'd been shot. Yet she sounded sincere as she stated, "I love my brother very much. He is all the family I have."  
  
"Why have you waited four days before coming to see him, Ambassador?"  
  
"Good question!" Wufei muttered.  
  
Relena pretended not to have heard, but Wufei recognized the subtle signal she gave to her Preventer bodyguards. They closed in around her and the interview was over. He and Heero had done the same for her during their service, shielding her from unwanted questions and rude reporters.  
  
Zechs glanced down up at the wall clock. "She'll be here in less than an hour. I should arrange to meet her in one of the lounges."  
  
"No." Wufei stroked a hand down over the pale, silky fall of Zechs's damp hair. It had grown so quickly. It fell just past his shoulders now. "We'll speak with her here. Together."  
  
Zechs gave him a surprised look over his shoulder. "Are you sure? Things could get unpleasant."  
  
"All the more reason not to leave you to face her alone. Besides, I doubt very much she'll hit a man wearing a regen unit."  
  
Zechs leaned back and kissed him. "Let's hope not."  
  
Zechs went to shave and finish dressing. Wufei watched as the television news crews followed Relena's motorcade as far as the hospital entrance. Suddenly he felt jumpy and fragile and wished Zechs would come back. The doctors had warned him that he was likely to experience mood swings, given the seriousness of his surgeries, and all the drugs they'd used on him. It didn't make it any easier not to call out for his lover, or make him any less embarassed about it.  
  
Zechs did come back soon, of course. He had on a black long-sleeved polo shirt and loafers now. Even with the empty sleeve hanging free, the shirt showed off Zechs's chest and flat belly superbly. Wufei was surprised at his own stir of arousal at the sight; if he could feel that at such a moment, then he must truly be getting better! It would be at least a month before they could indulge in such pleasures, the doctors had said. Mood swings indeed, he thought, disgusted with himself.   
  
Zechs switched off the set and took a deep breath. "Ready?" he asked, clearly as nervous as Wufei.  
  
Wufei pulled at the front of his yukata, feeling woefully underdressed and embarassed at the slight swell in the front of his pajamas. Zechs was too distracted to notice as he helped him close the robe loosely over the regen, pulled the blankets up, and brushed Wufei's hair. Wufei wanted to pull it back into the customary tight queue, but he was still too weak to manage it. Instead, he caught Zechs's hand and gave him an encouraging look. "She's your sister. She already knows about us. Perhaps the worst is over."  
  
Zechs grimaced and shook his head. "Don't bet on it, little love."  
  
Their nurses had kept them informed of Relena's movements inside the hospital. She'd stopped briefly to see Duo and the still sleeping Heero first, then proceeded up to ICU.  
  
Zechs remained seated beside Wufei's bed and held his hand as Relena appeared in the doorway holding a large vase of flowers and box of candy. She stopped at the sight of them, then recovered and swept in with a fixed smile, setting the gifts on the bedside table.  
  
"Well, here you both are. You look better than I expected, I must say."  
  
Zechs rose and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm fine, and Wufei has made amazing progress, as you can see. He very nearly died."  
  
He settled her in a chair and sat down beside Wufei facing her. This put his left side toward him, making it impossible to touch.   
  
Relena sat stiffly up right, hands folded in her lap. "I understand you were shot in the heart, Wufei?"  
  
"A graze," Wufei told her.   
  
"The damage was serious," Zechs amended. "His heart stopped several times. It took two surgeries and extensive regen to repair the damage." He seemed very determined to impress on his sister the seriousness of Wufei's condition. It was rather embarrassing.  
  
Wufei kept quiet as they exchanged pleasantries and Relena quizzed Zechs about the details of the mission. Zechs tactfully downplayed his own role in things, particularly the end of it. But Relena was well informed.  
  
"You were carrying a gun, I'm told," she said.  
  
"It was a dangerous situation."  
  
"That is in direct violation to the terms of your repatriation."  
  
Wufei looked up sharply at that. It was true.  
  
"I've spent the past few days examining the police and Preventer reports with the ESUN council," Relena went on. "Both Major Tzuki and Captain Po are quite insistent that it was a 'heat of the moment' situation, that you were there in a strictly observational capacity, but that you were caught in a firefight and were forced to arm yourself. Is this true?"  
  
"Essentially, yes."  
  
Relena gave a small sigh, toying with her gloves. "Essentially? I see. Why were you there at all?"  
  
"I was concerned for my friends," Zechs replied, then shrugged and gave her a wry smile. "And I couldn't resist the chance to get near a battle."  
  
"Oh, Miliardo!" She shook her head, as if disappointed in him. "You really did mean what you said in Sanque that day, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes I did, little sister. Like it or not, I'm a warrior at heart, and always will be."  
  
"He also saved my life, and probably Duo and Heero's as well," Wufei told her, unable to bear her manner any longer. "He risked his life to do that, without thought to his own safety. You should be proud of your brother, rather than scolding him!"  
  
Relena gave him a cool look. "I appreciate your role in helping rescue Heero and Duo, Wufei, I truly do. But perhaps Miliardo and I should continue our discussion in private?" She gave Zechs a pointed look. "This is a *family* matter, Miliardo."  
  
Zechs rose from his chair and moved around Wufei's bed so he could sit beside him and take Wufei's hand. "Wufei is family, Relena. I've asked him to be my husband and he has graciously accepted."  
  
Relena's mouth fell open for an instant, her expression one of perfect shock. Wufei almost felt bad for her. He hadn't expected Zechs to drop it on her so abruptly.  
  
"Hu--husband?" she gasped. "But--but--Oh Miliardo, how could you! You hardly know him!" Her gaze shifted to Wufei and her eyes went hard, flashing with anger. "How dare you? I trusted you! It wasn't enough to seduce him while he was so weak and unbalanced? You worm your way into his affections, getting him to--to *keep* you, like some expensive mistress, but now you have the audacity--"  
  
"Relena, that's enough!" Zechs didn't move or raise his voice, but his deadly calm voice shut her up instantly. "You will not say such things to him. You demean both yourself and me by doing so. I have been in possession of my faculties since Wufei and I met, and he did absolutely nothing to seduce or sway me in any way. Quite the opposite, in fact. Any seduction was on my part. He wouldn't know how, but I certainly do. If anyone's honor is in question here, it is mine, but I assure you, whatever its beginnings, my love for Wufei is true and honorable now. His feelings for me have never been anything other than honorable. He is a far better man than I will ever be, but he has agreed to marry me, all the same, and I will do my best to live up to his trust for the rest of my days and strive to be worthy of that love."  
  
Zechs's hand was firm and steady in his and Wufei clung to it, caught between embarrassment and awe. Relena was staring dumbstruck at them both now as she strangled her gloves between her fingers.  
  
"I have no desire to exclude you from my life, Relena," Zechs went on more gently. "You and I have missed so much of each other's lives already. War kept us apart. I would be very sad if love did the same."  
  
"Love?" She shook her head. "You really think you love him? But how, Miliardo? You've only known him for a few months."  
  
"That's true, but I was trained my whole life to make quick decisions and trust my instincts. What Wufei and I feel for each other is real, Relena. I hope you can accept that."  
  
She was quiet for a moment, then pinned Wufei with a direct look. "What do you say to this?"  
  
Wufei met that look with equal directness. "I love your brother more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. I would never do anything to dishonor him. And--" He made himself pause and take a breath, trying to rein in his rising temper. "I am not *kept*. I am not his mistress."   
  
Yet even as he said it, his own doubts returned to make him feel like a liar. He'd lived in Zechs's house without paying any rent, after all. And all the clothes and gifts?   
  
He looked away, and felt the betraying heat in his face. "I love him," he finished weakly. That much at least was true.   
  
"I see." Relena smoothed a crease from her skirt. "Well, you're both of age to make any contract you like. But Miliardo, you do realize this will have to be brought before the Sanque Parliament? You are still a member of the royal family, after all."  
  
"Same sex unions are legal in Sanque, sister. You know that as well as I do."  
  
"For ordinary citizens, certainly. But you have posterity to think of."  
  
"Really Relena. I should think I've made it abundantly clear that I don't give a flying fuck about posterity or reputation or any of the rest of it!" Zechs shot back. "Besides, posterity is up to you now."  
  
"And if something happens to me? What then?"  
  
"Then Sanque will be left with a reluctant gay head of state and his husband and their children, I suppose."   
  
"Children?" Relena said faintly, looking even more deeply shocked. "You'd even go that far?"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Zechs demanded. "You make it sound like I'm doing all this simply to embarrass you for some reason! I gave my youth and my soul for you. I covered myself in blood for you. Well, I'm done now. You have your peace and Sanque is free. I only want peace and freedom for myself, as well. And I want it with Wufei. If this new world order of yours has no room for love, Relena, then what have we gained?"  
  
Relena opened her mouth to reply, then stopped and sighed. "I'm sorry, Miliardo. I want to be happy for you. I really do! If you'd fallen in love with Sally, or Noin--"  
  
"This is no different," Zechs told her, raising Wufei's hand to his lips, but keep his eyes locked with his sister's. "No different at all. I will go before the press and Parliament and the whole world to declare it. I love Chang Wufei. He is a worthy partner and I will hold my head up beside him before anyone. Please, Relena. Try to understand, can't you?"  
  
Relena stood and turned to go. "I don't know if I can, Miliardo. It's not that I don't want to. You are my brother, and Wufei, you were a loyal friend and protector, before all this. It's just--difficult."  
  
"It doesn't have to be," Zechs replied, unmoved.   
  
Relena shrugged. "Good bye, brother. Wufei. I hope you are both well soon."  
  
She went out, closing the door quietly behind her, and Wufei slumped against Zech's shoulder, fighting back tears.  
  
"I'm so sorry, mei," Zechs murmured against his hair, holding him close. "You should have let me speak with her alone."  
  
"No," Wufei said. "I needed to hear that. And-and--" He shivered, willing himself not to cry and damning his out of control emotions yet again.  
  
"What it is?" Zechs asked, pulling back a little and looking at him with concern.  
  
"She's right. You are keeping me. I tried not to look at it that way. I know you don't see it like that! But you have been. I live in your house. You've fed and clothed me, bought me gifts, taken care of my every need--"  
  
"Because I love you!" Zechs said, his voice rough with emotion. "What was I supposed to do? Charge you rent? You are my guest, my lover! You make it sound like I was trying to buy your love, Wufei."  
  
"No, I know you weren't! But--but I have my pride, too. I--I haven't even given you a gift, in all the time we've been together."  
  
"Are you joking?" Zechs exclaimed. "You saved my dignity and my self respect. You shamed me out of my self-pity and made me a warrior again. You gave me poetry again. You shared your friends with me. My god, Wufei, you gave me your body, your virginity! You've agreed to join your future with mine. And let's not forget how you got this?" He touched the regen unit. "You threw yourself in front of me, Wufei, just as you did that night Trowa burst in on us. What richer gifts could anyone ask?"  
  
Wufei gazed up into those warm blue eyes and saw Zechs's soul there, giving truth to every word. He suddenly felt very small and foolish and dishonorable for his doubts. He wanted to apologize, but instead, heard himself saying, "I will love you forever, Zech Merquise."  
  
Zechs kissed him gently, just skimming Wufei's lips with his tongue. "That's all I ever need or want from you, mei." He helped Wufei lie back against the pillows and stroked back a few stray strands of hair from his cheek. He gazed down at him for a moment, and sighed. "Damn that Relena!"  
  
"What?"  
  
Zechs rubbed his hand over his own face, and then rested his chin in his palm. "She's right about one thing. We haven't known each other very long. Am I rushing you, Wufei?"  
  
"I don't know," he replied. "I don't think so. I mean, I know I want to be with you. I have no doubt of that."  
  
"I know, my love. But you've only just discovered who you are, haven't you? I've had years of experience, lovers beyond counting. I've sown my wild oats. You haven't had a chance to do any of that. I don't want you to look back in five or ten or twenty years and regret settling so soon."  
  
Wufei stopped him with a finger on Zechs's lips. "Sowing of wild oats is not in my nature. Such behavior would not occur to anyone of my status on L-5. You forget, we still used arranged marriages, and lived by duty. It is a rare and precious thing, to marry for love. I will never regret loving you. I can't imagine life without you." His throat went tight at the very thought and a few tears escaped, unnoticed. He stroked Zechs's face and hair, gazing into those beautiful, gentle eyes. "I would go to that grubby little L-2 chapel this very moment if you asked me to."  
  
Zechs took his hand and kissed it. "You deserve much better than that. I'm going to marry you with dignity and respect, my love. No one will question our bond."  
  
Wufei gave him a fond smile as he combed his fingers through Zechs's long bangs. "No Duo as bridesmaid, then?" he teased.  
  
Zechs chuckled. "I suppose not."  
  
"Do you think he'll be very disappointed?"  
  
"He can still wear a gown if he wants to."  
  
"So you can dance with him at the reception?"  
  
"I've already I promised him I will, no matter what he wears."  
  
"Hn. Then I suppose I'll have to dance with Yuy."  
  
Zechs raised an eyebrow. "Does Heero dance?"  
  
Wufei cheeks went a little warm again as he recalled the magazine pictures of Duo and Heero dancing at that club in Massachusetts, and the news clips of them in New Orleans with the others. "Yes, I'm afraid he does."  
  
Just then there was a hesitant knock on the door.  
  
"Come in," called Zechs.  
  
Duo slipped in, dressed in jeans and a clean white tee shirt. He hesitated nervously just inside the door, looking from one to the other with evident concern. "You guys OK? My spies among your nurses said they heard yelling, and then Relena came out looking ready to chew glass."   
  
"We survived," Zechs sighed. "She took the news about as well as expected."  
  
"Yeah? Well, screw her," Duo growled, sitting down in the chair Relena had vacated and patting Wufei's blanket-covered leg. "You know the Gundam boys are behind you, right? I kinda let it slip to Tro and Kat and they're really happy for you both. They were pissed at me for spilling your news and they're going to act all surprised when you tell them, so just play along, OK?"  
  
Zechs chuckled. "OK."  
  
"Both of them were happy?" Wufei asked.  
  
Duo raised a surprised eyebrow. "Yeah! Kat made more noise, as usual, but Trowa was glad for you, too. There are no hard feelings there, Wuffie. You can relax about that, really."  
  
Wufei had to close his eyes for a moment to hide his intense relief over that. "Thank you, Duo, for doing that. It's a weight off my mind."  
  
"I kinda figured it would be," Duo told him, giving him a warm smile. "And it's the least I could do, right, after you and Zechs here came and saved us and got shot up and all."  
  
"You and Heero have already thanked us," Wufei reminded him.  
  
"Thanks doesn't even begin to cover it," Duo said, shaking his head. "You're good friends and you took some major risks for us, even though we were being criminally stupid. We're not ever going to forget that."  
  
"How is Heero?" Wufei asked, embarassed and anxious to change the subject.   
  
"Still sleeping. They gave him enough of that shit to knock out an elephant, you know?" He chuckled but he was picking at the end of his braid now in a way that Wufei remembered from the war.   
  
He reached over and took Duo's hand, smiling inwardly at Duo's look of surprise at the gesture. "He's going to be all right. He's strong, and he has you."  
  
"Thanks, Wu." Duo looked deeply touched.  
  
Wufei shrugged. "You and he helped teach me how much that kind of love helps. He'll get past this, and so will you."  
  
Duo grinned and squeezed his hand gently. "Having good friends doesn't hurt, either. I'm not glad you guys got hurt or anything, but I'm glad you're here, if you get what I mean."  
  
"We do," Wufei assured him. "You taught me that, too, you and Heero."


	90. Try a Little Tenderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

No matter how hard he tried to make himself wake up, Heero couldn't quite make it. For fleeting moments he was aware of his body in the bed, of voices in the room, especially Duo's. Now and then he was aware of Duo lying close to him, his warmth, and the good smell of his hair. But these moments were brief and slippery and the dreams dragged him back again.   
  
Most of the time he was lost in the filthy streets of Kisarazu, cold, dirty, alone, lost. The images were confusing, events of the past week overlaid with half-formed memories of two years ago. People were chasing him. He was always in danger, but he never got caught. Other times he was in that cell, naked and cold and bruised. Sometimes Duo was there too, or he could hear him screaming for him nearby. Other times a dark eyed, solemn boy was with him, trying to tell him that none of this was his fault. He spoke very earnestly but Heero did not believe him.  
  
This seemed to go on for a long time, caught in an endless loop of fear and guilt and panic. But then something changed. In the dream he found his way to the waterfront and began to follow the shoreline. It was night when he began his journey. He encountered obstacle after obstacle-chain link fences, crumbling walls that extended out into the water, rickety wooden storm fencing, piles of stone, reels of barbed wire. Somehow he struggled past each one, though, drawn on by a driving urge to go on. It was exhausting but he couldn't stop.   
  
Slowly the sun came up and he saw that he'd left the city far behind. The sand under his feet was soft, the color of light brown sugar and rose into grassy dunes. He walked on the firm wet sand just above the tide line and the waves swept in around his bare feet. The water was cold, but it felt good, and very familiar. Gulls circled overhead in the pale blue sky.   
  
He couldn't see over the dunes. The beach was empty and the sea was empty. He was all alone and that scared him a little, even though he liked this place better than the city he'd escaped from.   
  
At last, far in the distance, he saw a house in the dunes. It was large, with weathered gray shingles and white trim and a sort of tower on one side. The center of the roof was flat and there was a wrought iron railing around it. As he got closer he could see someone standing up there, waving at him. He was still too far away to see who it was, but they had long shining chestnut hair that rippled in the breeze and shone in the rising sun.  
  
Heero's heart leapt. He waved back and began to run toward the house. The closer he got the more he wanted to be there, with that longhaired person on the roof. Now he was close enough to see that it was a mermaid. It balanced upright on a long, graceful, iridescent peacock blue tail, the fin end of which was wrapped around one of the iron railings. The mermaid was calling to him, calling his name.  
  
"Heero! Heero, can you hear me? Come on, baby. Heero?"  
  
"Yes, I hear you!" Heero called back, or tried to, but his voice didn't seem to be working. He could feel his throat straining, but no sound came out. "I can hear you."  
  
He was still running but now the house was receding, and the mermaid with it.   
  
"No!" he cried. The sand was soft under his feet, slowing his steps, tripping him up. The house was moving away so quickly he could hardly see the mermaid anymore, but the voice was clearer than ever.  
  
"Heero, baby, open your eyes. Can you do that? Heero?"  
  
The house and beach and the clean ocean smell all faded away. Heero felt achy and thirsty. He smelled chemicals and his own unwashed body. Someone was holding his hand, and touching his face.  
  
"Don't thrash around, baby. I'm here. Just open your eyes. I'm here."  
  
Heero finally forced his gritty eyes open and found himself looking up at the beautiful mermaid in his dream.   
  
Duo smiled down at him, still stroking Heero's hair back from his forehead. "Hey, there you are, sleepyhead!"  
  
Heero blinked up at him, then looked around the room. He was still in the hospital. The air was dry and stale and his mouth was so dry he could hardly move his tongue.   
  
"Thirsty," he rasped out.  
  
"I'll bet." Duo stopped touching him and moved out of his line of sight for a moment. Heero felt a little jolt of panic, but then he was back, guiding a straw to Heero's parched lips. He sucked and was rewarded with a mouthful of ice water. When he swallowed he could feel it all the way down his dry throat to his empty stomach. He took another long sip.  
  
"Thank you." His voice was back. His mind was a little clearer now, clear enough to see that it was late afternoon outside the window. "How long have I been asleep?"  
  
"Three days."  
  
Heero blinked up at Duo, wondering if he'd heard right. "Three? Days?"  
  
"Yup. Batoosingh knocked you on your ass with that Unadol stuff. It took your body a while to adjust to the dosage, but you've been trying to come around all afternoon. How you feeling, baby?"  
  
"Drugged," Heero mumbled. That summed it up. He could hardly feel his body and he still felt very tired.  
  
Duo settled on the edge of the bed and helped him take another drink. "I bet. The docs say your hormones and stuff are starting to level out some, though. They're going to try some other things, light therapy and some kind of brain wave thingy. You won't have to be on this kind of chemical load very long."  
  
"Hn. Good." Heero's tongue still felt thick and numb. It was hard work, talking. He gave up and just gazed up at Duo, wishing he had his hair loose. He'd really like to see it blowing in the wind, the way it had in his dream, like a banner against the sky. The memory made him smile. He wanted his sketchbook. He wanted to capture the image before he forgot. But he was too tired. He managed to raise his hand enough to capture the end of the braid as Duo leaned over him. It was warm and silky, his shining lifeline. "So beautiful," he whispered, fingering it.   
  
"You and your hair fetish," Duo said, his voice a low, comforting chuckle. Then, as if reading Heero's mind, he lay down next to him and pulled the hair tie free, spreading his loose, shining hair across Heero's arm and shoulder like a veil. Heero buried his fingers in it and sighed contentedly as sleep closed in on him again.  
  
+  
  
When he woke again morning light was streaming in through the window and Duo wasn't on the bed with him. He was across the room talking quietly into a vid phone on a laptop. He looked up as soon as Heero stirred, though, and carried the computer over to the bed.  
  
"Morning, baby. Wanna say hi to Tro and Kat?"  
  
Heero turned on his side and blinked blearily at the screen as Duo held it down at eye level. Their two friends were smiling back at him from what looked like another hospital bed.   
  
"Trowa?" Heero's brain struggled to catch up. Trowa had been here, in this room last he knew.   
  
"He went home a few days ago," Duo filled in for him.   
  
"Hi, Heero!" Kat said, smiling happily at him. "Guess what? I get to go home tomorrow!"  
  
Beside him, Trowa was smiling, too, in his usual guarded way.   
  
"But the house? The explosion?" Heero cursed the drugs for making him so muddle headed.  
  
"The repairs are coming along quickly," Trowa told him. "We won't have a working kitchen for a few more weeks, but the courtyard is cleaned up and the windows have all been replaced. We have a better security system installed, too. I designed it myself. You can help me with the final modifications when you guys get home."  
  
Home. Tears blurred Heero's vision, and a flash of that house on the beach in his dream; the house on the Cape, he realized now. That was the first place that had ever felt like "home". The only place, really. He didn't tell Trowa that, though. He was just glad they had somewhere to go.   
  
"Heero, are you all right?" Quatre asked, giving him a knowing look of concern.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," Heero, answered, but suddenly he didn't feel fine. He felt like he was going to cry and he didn't know why. "I--I'm disoriented from the medication. I'll speak with you again when I'm more alert, all right?"  
  
"That's fine, Heero," Quatre said as Heero turned away, trying to turn on his other side and face the wall so they wouldn't see his weakness. His foot tangled in what could only be catheter line and there was an IV stuck in his left hand. He tore out the IV and gingerly rearranged his legs around the other line. He didn't have the energy to deal with that one yet. Behind him he heard Duo whispering something to the others. Then a weight settled on the bed behind him as Duo spooned up against him and wrapped an arm around him. Heero felt warm lips press to the back of his neck and swallowed hard, fighting back tears even harder.  
  
"Still feeling pretty low, aren't you, babe?"   
  
Heero couldn't even muster the energy to cover Duo's hand where it lay against his belly. He just nodded.  
  
That hand moved to stroke his hair and shoulder. "I've been where you are, Heero, plenty of times. It's hard while the meds are still kicking in and you're all disoriented like this. But it's going to get better, I promise. I'm here for you, 'ro. You know that, right?"  
  
"My wingman," Heero whispered as the tears broke loose and trickled off the bridge of his nose to spatter on the pillow.  
  
Duo hugged him, careful of his gunshot wounds, though those hardly hurt at all now. "Yup, and your mermaid, right? Always and forever. I love you so much! You know that, right? You still feel it?"  
  
"Of course. Thank you!" Heero whispered around the painful lump in his throat and the black empty ache in his chest. He found Duo's hand now and squeezed it. "I love you, too. Always and forever!"  
  
Heero couldn't stop crying, just like that day at the Madrid hostel. It wasn't loud or out of control, but the tears just kept coming and the soft hitching sobs shook him. Duo held him, warm and strong, stroking his hair and his shoulder, kissing him now and then.  
  
"I know, baby, I know. Just let it out. Let it all out." Duo produced a handful of tissues from somewhere and handed them to him.  
  
Heero buried his face in them and cried. And strangely enough, it helped. After some ridiculous amount of time the lump in his throat and the ache in his chest got smaller and hurt less. By the time he was finally out of tears and had used up all the tissues, they were gone, leaving him limp and melancholy and relaxed against Duo's warm body.   
  
Duo finished the clean up for him with more tissues, drying Heero's cheeks and nose. "That's better."  
  
"Sorry," Heero mumbled.  
  
"Hey, crying's great for you. I should know. I've cried oceans."  
  
Heero sighed. The depression was still there, but he wasn't as overwhelmed by as he had been before.  
  
He shifted, wanting to turn over and look at Duo, but got tangled in the catheter line again. "Fucking hell!"  
  
Duo called the nurse and turned his back while she took the hated thing out. With Duo's help, he managed to get out of bed and into one of the armchairs. Duo draped his robe over him and brushed his hair for him. He was dressed only in a wrinkled hospital gown and smelled rank.  
  
"I need a shower," he said, wrinkling his nose at his own odor. The bandages taped to his chest and back itched. He reached down and pulled one off. Underneath the bullet hole had closed up nicely to a circle of shiny pink scar tissue. "I don't need these anymore. Help me get them off."  
  
Duo helped him with the ones on his back. "Looking good, Heero. You still got it!"  
  
Heero looked down at his new collection of scars. He'd patched himself up from worse than this in the field, with no help and no antibiotics.   
  
Duo wouldn't let him in the shower by himself, but instead ran a bath in the small tub and helped Heero in to it. Heero sank back against the cool tile, sighing as the warm water lapped around his body. Even this small effort had tired him out more than he'd expected, and he didn't argue when Duo insisted on taking charge of the washcloth. It felt good as Duo washed his face, then worked his way down his neck, back, chest and beyond. He could muster neither arousal nor embarrassment when Duo soaped his genitals and washed his ass for him. It just felt good to be clean, and he was grateful to Duo for helping him.  
When he was clean and dry he brushed his teeth, then Duo helped him into clean sweatpants and his robe and settled him back in the armchair.  
  
Heero lay back with a sigh. "Thanks. That's much better."  
  
Duo called the nurse. A pretty young woman appeared at the door and gave them both a beaming smile.  
  
"Yuy-sama, you're awake! The doctors will be most pleased!"  
  
"Mariko baby, just the girl I was hoping to see," Duo greeted her. "Can we still get breakfast? And I'm talking real food. No gruel. No rice!"   
  
Trays of poached eggs on toast and fresh fruit were brought up and Heero was surprised at how hungry he was. He drank several glasses of juice and water with the meal, as well as the green tea. He could still feel the slightly deadening effects of the medication, but he didn't feel as weak anymore. The three days he'd slept had allowed his body to complete the necessary healing. He could move without pain, while Duo still held himself in a way that Heero could tell his wounds still bothered him.  
  
"It's nothing," he said when Heero asked him about it. "I'll be good as new, just so long as I keep moving, keep things from tightening up. Hey, wanna go see Wuffie? He's on the mend too and he and Zechs have been worried about you. Come on, I need the exercise, even if you don't."  
  
Heero reluctantly followed him down the hall to the elevator. He couldn't put his finger on the problem. It wasn't that he didn't want to see their friends, but somehow dealing with anyone except Duo seemed difficult. Even the vid phone call from Trowa and Quatre had been too much. He leaned on the elevator wall beside Duo, glaring at his blurry image in the brushed stainless steel paneling and telling himself not to be foolish.  
  
Stepping off the elevator, Heero was surprised to see Zechs and Wufei down the corridor of the ICU. Wufei was shuffling along slowly, clinging to the railing mounted along the wall, dressed in his blue and white yukata and sweats. Zechs, in jeans and a tight black polo, hovered at his elbow, evidently ready to catch him if he stumbled. Judging by Wufei's scowl, his lover's concern was not appreciated.  
  
Wufei glanced up and saw them. He started to call out a greeting, but a coughing fit cut him off and he clutched the rail with one hand, pressing the other to his chest. The yukata gapped a bit as he doubled over and Heero saw a wide bandaged taped over his sternum. Zechs got an arm around Wufei and held him upright even as Wufei coughed out a halting objection and tried to shake him off.  
  
"Wuffie's feeling a lot better," Duo observed, not appearing concerned at all. "He's his regular grumpy self again. He's even biting Zechs's head off."  
  
"I don't . . .like . . . fussed over!" Wufei managed to gasp out, but he was leaning on Zechs's arm now, and sweat was running down his chest and face.   
  
"I think you've done enough for now, love," Zechs said.  
  
Wufei nodded and didn't pull his arm away as Zechs helped him back to a room halfway down the corridor. Zechs helped him back into a bed with the end cranked up while Duo urged Heero into a chair. He didn't argue, either. He was feeling a little lightheaded.  
  
Wufei took a long drink of water and lay back against his pillows, mustering a smile for Heero. "So, there you are. Feeling better, I hope?"  
  
"How are you?" Heero asked, evading the question. He felt numb and tired and low. They didn't need to know that.  
  
"Much improved, thank you. They've finally let me out of bed."  
  
"How long until you can resume training?" Heero asked, and saw Duo and Zechs both roll their eyes.   
  
Wufei, of course, took the question seriously. "I'm told I'm not allowed to do anything more strenuous than walking for at least a month," he said, looking resigned. "I've spoken with the physical therapists, and I should be able to resume some of my gentler Wu-Yi regimes, as well. It will be some time before I'm fully recovered, but I'm looking forward to doing a great deal of reading. I'm preparing to enter university in the fall. Zechs and I both are." He exchanged a fond smile with his lover.  
  
Heero nodded, unsurprised.   
  
"And?" Duo prompted, looking ready to burst with some news. "Come on! If you don't tell him, I will! I've practically had to swallow my tongue since he woke up!"  
  
"And-" Wufei looked more composed than Duo, but Heero saw a bit of color steal into his friends wan golden cheeks. "And Zechs and I are going to get married."  
  
For a moment Heero was speechless. It wasn't that he disapproved, he just hadn't expected it. He wanted to say something encouraging, but he just felt so dead inside. "Oh."   
  
The fleeting look of hurt in Wufei's eyes jolted him a bit from his funk. "That's very good news," he added, trying to force some enthusiasm into his tone. "I'm pleased for you both. When?"  
  
"We haven't set a date yet. Wufei needs to recover his strength and I have to get this fixed." Zechs gave his empty left sleeve an impatient tug.   
  
Heero's heart took a nosedive and darkness seemed to close in around him. This was all his fault. If not for them, they'd both be healthy, able to do whatever they wanted-train, study, marry, with no delays . . . "I'm so sorry," he mumbled, alarmed at the way his voice shook."  
  
"Please, Heero. Don't do this to yourself," Wufei pleaded, sitting forward.   
  
He couldn't reach Heero, but Zechs rose and went to him. Kneeling by Heero's chair, he put a hand on his shoulder as Heero hid his face in his hands. "Heero, don't. No one is angry with you."  
  
"I am!"  
  
Duo was there, too, both arms around him. "Easy, Heero. I think someone's due for some more meds, don't you? Wu, could you call the nurse, please?"  
  
Things were a little confused after that. Heero didn't remember being taken back to his room, but the next thing he knew, he was in his hospital bed again, with Duo snuggled up beside him and it seemed to be nighttime again.  
  
"What happened?" he whispered. His mouth was very dry.  
  
"You fugued out, baby," Duo told him, hugging him.   
  
"Oh fuck. Wufei-Zechs-"  
  
"It's OK. They understand. Zechs was here a little while ago, checking in on you."  
  
"Oh god, Duo!" Heero groaned, pressing his face into the curve of Duo's neck. "What's happening to me? I don't want to be like this! I can't live like this!"  
  
"This won't last, baby. The doctors changed your meds a little this time, so you won't be so knocked out--"  
  
Heero clung to him, only half listening. "I want it to be like it was before!"  
  
"Before what?" asked Duo, stroking his hair and back, and wrapping one long leg over Heero's to pull him in even closer.  
  
"I want to go back to the beach," Heero gasped out as images of his dreams came back.  
  
"The beach? The house on the Cape, you mean?"  
  
"Yes," Heero mumbled, knowing he was being unreasonable. It was winter. The house was closed up. But he couldn't help it. "It was good there. I felt good there. I want to feel like that again!"  
  
"You will," Duo promised. "Batoosingh is going to start you on some light and wave therapy first thing tomorrow. He says they work really fast on most people, especially ones who don't do so good with drugs, like you. And your levels of serotonin and stuff are coming up. He said so."  
  
"I don't like feeling like this," Heero growled, and found himself running his hand up and down Duo's back, mirroring what Duo was doing to comfort him. That felt good, the warmth and hard muscle of Duo's back through the soft cotton of the tee shirt he was wearing. Heero moved his hand down, curious to see what else Duo had on. Sweats. He'd dressed for bed. Heero was wearing nothing but boxers, he realized. He smoothed a hand over Duo's ass, cupping one firm rounded cheek. That felt good, too, and the way that squeezing that warm handful of muscle made Duo tighten his leg around Heero's. He felt Duo's cock stir to life against his.   
  
A sharp edged spark of need blossomed in Heero's chest. He slipped his hand under the waistband of Duo's pants and gripped bare flesh. Duo didn't protest or tell him he was too sick. He just hugged him closer and rocked his hips a little as his erection grew harder.   
  
Heero gasped, then let go of Duo's ass just long enough to find the hair tie and yank it off. He combed Duo's hair loose with shaking fingers, catching and pulling in the tangled strands, then rolled onto his back, pulling Duo with him to give both hands access to that irresistible ass. Duo kissed him, and then helpfully pulled off shirt and pants, tossing them off the side of the bed.   
  
The bedside lamp was the only light in the room, but it was enough for Heero to see the two bullet scars on Duo's chest. They were still puffy and red and looked sore. Heero traced them gently with his fingers, asking silently with his eyes if Duo was up to this. Duo answered with another kiss, then slipped a hand into Heero's shorts. His cock was sensitive, but limp.  
  
"Sorry," Heero mumbled against Duo's hungry lips.  
  
"Damn drugs," Duo replied with the hint of a smile. "Can I play with it anyway?"  
  
"Yes. God yes!"  
  
Duo shimmied down and hooked off Heero's shorts, then sucked the soft flesh into his mouth with a loud slurp. "Mmmmm. Nice. Cute like this," he chuckled, sending chills all over Heero's body.  
  
He was still depressed, still hovering on the edge of darkness, but he could _feel_ this. Duo's warmth and touch, the weight of his body, the love that radiated from him and the wet heat of his mouth-they all gave Heero something good and familiar to cling to. It filled an empty part of his soul the way that only Duo ever could. Duo was his lifeline, and as he shook his sweet-scented hair out over Heero's chest and belly and took Heero's balls in his mouth, Heero could let go of everything else and just be here now, with him, his beautiful mermaid, and it didn't matter if they were in Japan or the beach house or on the moon. They were together and that's how things were meant to be.  
  
Duo lavished attention on his still limp cock, humming and sighing happily over it until Heero's whole body was floating on pleasure. "Duo, let me-"  
  
Duo shifted so they could sixty-nine and took Heero back into his mouth. Heero groaned and wrapped his lips around Duo's very hard cock, sucking down to the root and burying his nose in the thick, musky curls at the base of it. He cupped Duo's balls and ran a finger back to tickle the sensitive ridge of skin behind them, all the way to the delicate pucker of his opening. He circled a finger there and felt Duo moan and shiver, then return the favor, reaching around Heero's hip to delve between his cheeks. Locked together like two perfectly fitted puzzle pieces, they caressed and sucked and rocked and softly moaned together.   
  
It wasn't enough. It was good, but it wasn't enough.  
  
Heero released Duo's cock with a last long lick. "I need you in me, Duo."  
  
"You sure, baby? You healed up enough?"  
  
"Yes!" But that gave Heero pause. "Are you?"  
  
"Long as we take it slow and easy." Duo was already reaching over to scrabble around in the nightstand drawer. "Where the heck--? Know I saw-"  
  
He let out a triumphant grunt and held up a bottle of hospital brand hand lotion. "Unscented. Hypoallergenic. Good stuff!"  
  
Heero rolled onto his back again and spread his legs. Duo had him lift his hips and slipped a pillow underneath. "Easier access," he said, giving Heero a warm, happy look. He coated his fingers and carefully prepared Heero, then sat back on his heels between Heero's spread thighs and slicked his cock.  
  
Heero watched with growing anticipation. He needed this; he needed to feel their bodies joined. It wasn't even about sex or pleasure, but a communion of flesh and soul though this most intimate of acts.   
  
He'd lost track of the last time they'd had sex. Days, more than a week, surely. Longer than they'd ever gone since they'd been lovers. He let out a happy groan as the head of Duo's cock pushed against and vanquished the resistance of his entrance, then slowly slid deeper, spreading him, filling him with the perfect blend of pressure and heat and fullness.   
  
+  
  
Duo kept it slow gentle for both of them. His stitches pulled and burned with every thrust, but that was nothing compared to the look on Heero's face as Duo made love to him. He couldn't fix Heero's body, or his past, but he could give him this. The pained, lost look in those dark eyes was gone for now, replaced by that soft, almost surprised look he got when things felt really good.  
  
And Duo needed it, too. The taste of Heero on his lips, the lingering scent of his lover's body on his face and hands, the smooth, hard feel of those thighs against his shoulders, the tight, slick sheath of heat around Duo's cock, and, more than anything, he realized in that moment, the incredibly comforting sense of belonging it always gave him, sharing this with Heero Yuy.   
  
As he rocked in and out of Heero's body, watching the play of pleasure on Heero's features, tasting and smelling and feeling the essence of the man he loved with every fiber of his being, he thought _//Marry me!//_  
  
It wasn't the first time he'd thought that, and as always, the words didn't make it past his lips, but they came closer this time, and not just because Wuffie and Zechs had stirred things up, either. But the moment wasn't right. He wanted the moment to be just right, romantic, when both of them were healthy and clear headed again. Not like this.   
  
So he just smiled and made gentle love to the most beautiful man in the world. Elevating Heero's hips gave him easy access to that sensitive little prostate of his and with some very skillful encouragement from Duo's cock inside, and Duo's lubed hand outside, Heero's cock finally woke up and came to attention. Duo increased the pace of his thrusts then, but kept them gentle and on the shallow side while he worked his erection with slow, swirling caresses up and down the shaft, palming the swollen, heated head.   
  
"Oh, Duo!" Heero breathed, as those eyes rolled back and fluttered shut. "So good. Love you. Love this. Need this. Fuck me!"  
  
"Love, baby. Making love," Duo whispered back, keeping him focused. "I love you so much. So glad you're safe. Gonna keep you safe. Gonna love you forever and ever, baby. Don't you ever worry. I'll never let you be alone. Love you so much!"  
  
Heero's fingers locked in a bruising grip on Duo's thighs as tears squeezed out from between his closed eyelids.   
  
"Heero, oh baby, no! Don't cry--"  
  
But that's as far as he got before Heero arched under him and hot white cum fountained up over Duo's fist and Heero's belly. Heero's body tightened so hard around Duo's cock that he came just as hard. His vision went white for a moment, it was so intense, and he caught himself on his hands just in time before he did a nosedive into Heero's face.  
  
He braced himself there above him, panting and shaking, drinking in Heero's panting breath as the curtain of his hair trapped their shared heat and scents between their bodies. Tears were still trickling down from the corners of Heero's dark blue eyes and a hint of sadness was back but he was smiling. He flexed his asscheeks, giving Duo's cock a last parting hug as he slipped out.   
  
"Thank you, beautiful," Heero whispered, cupping Duo's face in his hands and kissing him. "I really, really enjoyed that. I needed it."  
  
"Me, too," Duo told him, lowering himself carefully down beside him and cleaning them up a bit with the corner of the sheet. That should give the nurses something to talk about tomorrow. "God, I love you!"  
  
"Love you," Heero replied. More tears. He caught his breath and pulled Duo close again, pressing his hot face to Duo's chest and fisting one hand in his hair. "Love you, love you, love you, love you---"  
  
Duo stroked his back again. "Hang on to that, Heero. Hang on to me. You're going to be better soon, I promise. We're going back to that beach house together, you and me. The bad stuff is all over. Over and done. Clear skies ahead, baby. Nothing but clear skies."


	91. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo slept deeper than he had in ages, glued naked to Heero with all their various love juices and his hair tangled everywhere. Wonderfully comforted by Heero's warmth and their mingled sex smells, he managed to stay mostly asleep even when a sharp finger prodded him in the shoulder, and an equally sharp voice in his ear hissed, "Not allow!"  
  
"Whazzat?" Duo mumbled. The sheets had slipped down around their knees sometime in the night. Chilly, he cuddled closer to Heero's back and wished his hair was long enough to keep his ass warm. "Shuddup, Wu. Gonna wake 'ro."   
  
"Maxwell-sama, not allow!" the angry voice insisted. It didn't really sound like Wufei. The outrage level was right, but his grammar was better than that. And he'd never call Duo a "sama", that was for fucking certain . . .  
  
Something cold fell heavily across his body, jolting him awake again. Peeling himself off Heero, Duo flopped over and opened his eyes, then cringed as he realized that it was Nurse Catheter--that older head nurse with the so-so English who he hadn't yet managed to charm--she was standing over their bed glaring down at them in all their naked glory, her prune face even prunier with disapproval. The cold thing was his silk robe, which unfortunately currently covered only the upper part of his chest and nothing else. He hastily pulled it down to more needy areas, which included the telltale streaks of dried cum on his belly and pubes, and a perky morning woody that evidently loved Heero a lot more than it feared her.   
  
"No sex in room, Maxwell-sama. Against rules!" she told him sternly.  
  
Even in the midst of his considerable embarrassment, Duo was worried that Heero hadn't moved. He was usually on a hair-trigger. "Really? We were just, you know, feeling a little better and, well, you know?" Duo gave her his best I'm-so-damn-sweet-and-adorable-you-just-gotta-love-me smile, guaranteed to melt anything with a pulse into a puddle of Maxwell-loving goo.  
  
It had absolutely no effect. Zero. Nada. Nurse Catheter shook her finger at him, giving him a look he hadn't seen since the war. "Very bad! You get dressed now!"

With a final outraged glare she headed for the door, where several of Duo's admirers among the staff were peering in wide-eyed, hands over their mouths.  
  
Jesus, it was Madrid all over again.  
  
"Hey, could you send in some coffee?" Duo called after her, grinning for the benefit of his audience.  
  
Nurse Catheter scattered the gawkers with a scathing look and slammed the door.  
  
"I don't think you're going to get your coffee," Heero whispered, scratching at a patch of dried cum on his backside.  
  
"You faker!"  
  
Heero rolled over and gave Duo an apologetic kiss. "I'm scared of her. Thanks for taking the hit."  
  
Duo kissed him back. "No problem. How you doing?"  
  
Heero lay back and rubbed his eyes, then shrugged. "Last night was really good, but--well--"  
  
"It's OK, buddy. I know. Sex doesn't fix clinical depression. But I'm glad it made you feel better for a while." He pulled the blankets up and snuggled with Heero for a little longer. He knew you couldn't love this kind of thing away, but that wouldn't stop him from trying.   
  
It was just after eight when they emerged from a shared shower. Nurse Catheter wouldn't have had anything to complain about if she'd caught them. Duo's erection had lost interest while Heero was using to the bathroom earlier and Heero was low again and not in the mood for anything beyond washing.  
  
Sick of pajamas, they both put on jeans and sweaters that Trowa had brought over and went upstairs to have breakfast with Wu and Zechs.   
  
Wufei was still in bed and looked tired. Zechs was dressed, though, and looked as dashing and dapper as ever in jeans and a black cotton shirt.  
  
"Hiding out, are we?" asked Zechs, grinning at them over his coffee.   
  
Apparently word traveled fast between floors.   
  
"It's this weird power Heero and I have," Duo explained, covering for Heero's blushing deer-in-the-headlights act. "We're such sexy stud muffin hotties in bed that people just come running to see. Right, Wuffie?"  
  
"It was an inadvertent intrusion on my part, and you know it," Wufei retorted, right on cue. But then he got that new, wicked little grin he'd picked up hanging around with sexy Zechsy as he added, "But I must admit, you're both very hot 'stud muffins.' Will there be a matinee?"  
  
Duo laughed. He liked this new Wufei. "Who the hell are you and what have you done with--"  
  
He broke off as Heero quietly set his coffee cup down and strode from the room. He wasn't laughing.  
  
A stricken look replaced Wufei's smile. "I didn't mean to insult him. I should have known better."  
  
"Not your fault," Duo said quickly and hurried after Heero.  
  
He wasn't at the elevator. Duo spotted the stairway exit and took a chance on Heero heading back to their room. He guessed right and caught Heero two flights down.  
  
"Hold up!" he begged, clutching the railing and trying to get his breath, wishing he healed as fast as Heero.   
  
Heero stopped on the landing, leaning on the gray concrete wall, head down, arms locked across his chest. All Duo could see as he came down the last few stairs was Heero's mouth. The lips were thin and tightly pressed together and the corners were turned down. Way down.   
  
"Heero?" Duo approached slowly but steadily and Heero let him put an arm around him and gather him in. He allowed Duo to pull his head down on his shoulder, but his arms hung limply at his sides and his body was tense and stiff.  
  
"Why were they making fun of me?" Heero whispered against Duo's sweater, on the verge of tears.  
  
"They weren't, baby," Duo said, hugging him. "We were all just laughing it off. You heard me joking, right? I wasn't making fun of you, was I?"  
  
"No. But Wufei--He said--"  
  
"I think you're having another mood swing," Duo soothed. "I know how that can seem, everything coming at you through some weird filter. Think back, Heero. Remember that day Wufei walked in on us when I was going down on you for the first time? You hardly blinked. You just asked him to close the door, remember? You were totally cool. Same thing with Relena at the embassy that morning. I was way more embarassed than you!"  
  
Heero brought his arms around Duo's waist and held on. "Yeah, I guess. It just sounded like he was--"  
  
Duo held him closer, rocking him in his arms. God, he could remember times when no one, not even Quatre, could talk to him without Duo hearing ridicule and anger behind every innocent word. What had helped? Meds, sure, but he remembered Trowa's voice and presence, too. He tried to remember what Trowa had said at times like this. "Do you really think Wufei would be mean to you?" he asked gently. "Think about it, baby. Does it make any sense? Especially with me sitting right there?"  
  
There was a long pause and Duo felt hot tears soaking into the shoulder of his sweater. "No," Heero admitted at last.   
  
"That's right. We were all just fooling around, but I'm sorry we hurt your feelings. Wu feels really bad, too. He told me, right before I came to find you. You know he admires you too much to ever be mean to you."  
  
"Admired," Heero said in a soft, flat voice.   
  
"Still does, trust me. You saw him at his low point, remember? And you didn't stop respecting him for that, did you?"  
  
Heero shook his head and slowly straightened up. Duo fished out some tissues and handed them to him. He kept a ready supply on hand these days.  
  
"So, time for meds. And time to see Batoosingh and try out his new toys. And you need to eat something, too. Gotta keep that blood sugar up."   
  
Heero rubbed at his reddened eyes with fresh tissue. "You fuss over me."  
  
"Guess I do," Duo said, taking his hand as they headed downstairs. "You gonna fight me about that?"  
  
Head down, bangs hiding his eyes again, Heero shook his head and squeezed Duo's hand. "No. I appreciate it."   
  
+  
  
Heero kept his head down as they passed the nurse's station, trying hard to ignore the giggles and whispers he thought he heard. One of the nice young male nurses brought them their medication and breakfast. Heero was too depressed and tense to eat, but Duo patiently insisted that he clean his plate and hovered over him until he did.   
  
He was ashamed to admit it even to Duo, but he was scared about this new therapy Dr. Batoosingh wanted to try. It sounded too much like the 'conditioning' Dr. J had used on him during the war. Duo didn't know about that. No one did, except Quatre. He'd been there once, when they'd done it to Heero, seen how it had hurt as it stripped the humanity out of Heero's brain. In his current unstable state, he couldn't stop thinking about that. He was certain this was going to be more of the same and he didn't know if he could do it again, even for Duo.   
  
By the time the attendant came to escort them to the therapy room, he was afraid he was going to lose his breakfast. Duo slipped a comforting arm around his waist and gave him a reassuring look. What did Duo know?  
  
At first glance, Heero thought he was right. The room was decorated nicely, like any shrink's office, but right there in the middle was a padded recliner, like a dentist's chair, with an array of equipment on a table beside it. There were wires and electrodes.   
  
Dr. Batoosingh and Dr. Kano were both waiting for them. Dr. Batoosingh came over and took Heero's hand. "This is not the sort of equipment Dr. J used," he said.  
  
Heero gaped at him, wondering if he'd been that obvious.   
  
"I'm sorry, Heero. I should have anticipated that someone as intelligent as you, with your background in cerebral conditioning, would have certain preconceived notions. The look on your face just now tells me I was right."   
  
He patted Heero's shoulder and led him to a small sofa near the window. Outside Heero could see a courtyard below, laid out as a formal Japanese garden. It looked peaceful. There was no one there. He wished he was down there right now, instead of here.   
  
Duo sat down close beside him, watching with obvious concern. "This is like that stuff J did him?"  
  
"No. Well, yes and no. Both procedures affect the brain's limbic system, but there is absolutely no pain associated with what we are about to do, no negative reinforcement of any kind. I promise you, Heero, it will be very soothing and relaxing. There won't even be any conscious imaging, just lights and sounds. You may even fall asleep, and that's fine. This won't change anything about your personality or memory. It's simply a relatively natural way of bringing your brain chemicals into balance at acceptable, functional levels."  
  
"How will I feel?" asked Heero, still fighting his own ingrained fears. "Will I stop having these fucking mood swings?"  
  
Batoosingh arched an eyebrow at the profanity, but Heero didn't care. "Yes, that is the intended result. I cannot promise you unbroken happiness, of course. No treatment can give you that."  
  
"Don't patronize me!" Heero snapped. "I have been through conditioning before, and I've come through depression before. I understand that you are trying to bring me back into some sort of normal parameter of equilibrium. Let's just get on with it!"  
  
"Certainly. Come lay down in the chair, please. Duo can stay. I'll put a chair next to the chaise if you like but he won't be able to touch you during the treatment."  
  
Heero took a breath, trying to rein in his veering temper. "Then you might as well stay over here where it's comfortable," he told Duo. "A few feet won't make a difference. It's enough to know you're here."  
  
Duo gave him a smile and settled cross-legged in the corner of the couch as they hooked Heero up to wires and an IV.   
  
"What's that?" Heero demanded sharply as a nurse approached to insert the needle.  
  
"We are going to administer saline and a mild sedative," Batoosingh explained. "You'll also be given supplemental oxygen to stimulate blood flow in the brain."  
  
Satisfied but still tense, Heero made himself lie very still and count his own breaths while they finished. Finally they fixed a wide visor over his eyes. It was nothing like the helmet J had used on him, but close enough that he tensed again, not being able to see.  
  
"Relax, Heero," Batoosingh said, and Heero felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "This is the light unit. You don't have to keep your eyes open. It works just as well though your eyelids and some people find it too bright. As I said, you can take a nap if you like. The nurse is going to put on your headphones now. It's going to sound like very odd music to you, but it is for brain wave stimulation, not dancing. There are subliminal tones, as well, but no hidden suggestions or anything like that. Just tones. This is not hypnosis. Are you ready?"  
  
Heero gave a tense nod. Bright lights came on and began to pulse softly. They weren't harsh, more like late afternoon sunlight, warm and golden. He closed his eyes and the light turned golden red. The doctor had been right. It was soothing. Nothing like the jarring dissonant images J had subjected him to. This was more like lying under a tree, with the play of light through the leaves on his face. The sounds, when they started, were strange, but soothing, too, like whale song and wind and deep low tones. It was very relaxing, after all. He could feel the tension leaving his muscles. It felt like he was floating.  
  
He woke up feeling much better.  
  
"I fell asleep?" he said, a little embarassed to find Duo and the doctors smiling down at him like that. The visor, headphones and IV were gone and someone had covered him with a blanket. It was certainly better than the way he'd woken up this morning.  
  
"Yes. Do you sense any change in your emotional state, Yuy-san?" asked Dr. Kano.  
  
Heero nodded. "I'm more-rested. And I feel less anxiety. You were right, Dr. Batoosingh. It was nothing at all like Dr. J's process."  
  
"I am glad to hear it. I will need some time to fully evaluate the initial readings from this session, and there will be blood sample taken in a few hours, but it would appear that we have found a viable therapy to augment the drugs."  
  
"I don't like the drugs," Heero told him. "They make me tired and don't control the moods."  
  
"They are doing far more than you think," Batoosingh replied. "However, if you are responding to this therapy, you will be able to reduce the dosages much sooner. I have scheduled to for a blood draw at four, but until then, you are a free man. It's a nice day. You should get outside, get some fresh air."  
  
Heero was only too happy to take his advice. They took the elevator to the ground floor and found their way out to the garden Heero had seen from the window. It was clear today, but cold and they had it to themselves.   
  
The garden was small but laid out with sheltering trees to make it an oasis in the midst of the hospital complex. Heero found a stone large enough for two beside the ike pond and sat there with Duo, watching the clouds reflections move across the rippling water.   
  
"That helped?" Duo asked at last.  
  
"Yes. More than the pills."  
  
"Good!" Duo's relief was clear.   
  
"Do you think I'm crazy?" asked Heero.  
  
He laughed and put an arm around Heero. "No, just messed up like me."  
  
Heero kept his gaze on the water as he asked, "Now that you know all that really happened to me, does it bother you? I mean, between us?"  
  
"Does it bother you, that I was a class A leather slutboy?"  
  
Duo didn't move away but Heero was shocked at the sudden bitterness in his lover's voice. "No! I don't even think about that."  
  
"Then why would I hold it against you, what those bastards forced you to do?"   
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Duo hugged him again. "No, I'm sorry. You needed to hear it. Nothing's changed between us, baby. Those fuckers hurt you and we hurt them back. Hato's dead and I'm glad. None of that was your fault. You're not damaged goods or any stupid thing like that. You shitcan any doubts like that, or I will get mad, copy that?"  
  
Heero sighed. "I copy. I just wanted to hear it again, I guess."  
  
"I love you, Heero. More than anything else in the world. I can't--That is-- I just really love you, baby." Duo seemed to want to say more, but his voice had gone all tight and rough and he just hugged him again.   
  
"I love you, too." It sounded so lame and inadequate. There was so much more welling up in Heero's heart but he couldn't find any words to express it.   
  
So they sat there in silence, watching a few last leaves fall from the maples over the pond.   
  
+  
  
They played cards with Wufei and Zechs that afternoon, and nothing was said of Heero's behavior earlier. Everyone else seemed to have forgotten all about it, but it ate at Heero, how rude and foolish he'd been. He wanted to say something but the opening never presented itself.   
  
After supper they had a special vidphone call scheduled. In an email earlier in the day, Trowa had told Duo that Quatre was very restless, moody, and low. Tonight's vid call was something of a surprise make-over party for Quatre, and a chance for Wufei and Zechs to share their news face to face.   
  
Trowa and Kat were back at the house now and Trowa was eager to walk them through the repairs with a handheld camera. The new kitchen had been dry walled, with new wiring and plumbing, and the courtyard looked almost as if nothing bad had happened there, except for a few missing trees. Trowa then took them into the parlor where Quatre was waiting for them.  
  
"Before we do anything else, there's something Wufei wants to tell you," Duo told them, pushing their vidphone camera in Wufei's direction.  
  
"Oh yeah?" said Quatre, and Heero suspected that he'd already guessed.  
  
Wufei nodded, and only blushed a little as he said, "Yes. Zechs asked me to marry him and I have accepted. We don't have any details worked out yet. You two are the first we've told, after these two and Relena."  
  
"Relena!" Trowa grimaced. "Hope you did that by phone."  
  
"No, face to face," Zechs told him.  
  
"Brave man."  
  
"Got that right."  
  
Champagne was opened on both sides of the conversation and toasts were drunk.   
  
"OK, so how's the back, Q-ball?" Duo demanded.  
  
Quatre He showed off his back, where the new skin was pink and shiny and excruciatingly sensitive. He could walk around a little with the help of a walking frame but had to spend most of the day in something similar to a massage chair, with the support under his chest rather than his back.   
  
The main event began when Cathy showed up with some of their friends from the show, a workbox, and several bottles of absinthe. The cohort in Japan got to watch as she and the show stylist, Boris, gave Kat a new hairstyle that incorporated the short fine growth coming in on the back of his head. The absinthe flowed as Boris shaved the sides of Quatre's head to match, and left the top long, but chunked it so that it fell in a wild mop around his face and ears. Then, over Heero's desperate protests, they changed the streaks in his hair from blue to sea green, purple and white. When it was all over, Quatre put all his glittering gold ear hoops and jeweled studs, eyebrow rings, and a nose stud in. Trowa came into frame and lovingly buckled on a pair of bondage cuffs and kissed him until Quatre was giggling and moaning, along with everyone else in the room and across the sea in the alcohol-free zone in Japan.  
  
"So this is what they're really like?" Heero heard Zechs whisper to Wufei.  
  
"No," Wufei replied fondly. "They're just playing."  
  
Zechs's understanding nod and smile pleased Heero.  
  
"It's more than that," Duo told them quietly, so that the vid phone mic wouldn't pick up his voice. "This is how we used to party, right after the war. When we needed to forget and escape and be someone else for a little while, we'd get lit and dress each other up for the clubs. And-Well, wait for it. You'll see."  
  
Duo took over next, directing Cathy and Boris to give him an sexy, feral look, with flushed, gold dusted cheeks, carmined lips, peacock colors on his eyelids and thick black liner around his eyes, drawn to give them what Duo called a Persian look. Trowa pulled the camera back to show Quatre looking wild and fey and a little dangerous in tight black leather pants, like a creature from their opening act of the show. He also looked considerably more cheerful. Looking like an exotic bad boy again was a good remedy for looking and feeling like a helpless victim all these days. Nothing had been said about Quatre's family and their machinations, but Heero suspected this was Trowa's way of taking his husband's mind off it for a little while. If it actually came down to going to court, another sort of makeover would probably be a good idea but for now they could play.  
  
Trowa handed the camera off to someone else. Sometime during the makeover, he'd changed into a similar outfit, except that he was wearing red velvet poet's shirt, studded collar and less make-up, though he'd done a sexy job with the eyeliner. He sat down with his husband, and pulled a small black velvet box out of the air in front of Quatre's startled eyes.  
  
"Meli, something precious was taken from you that bad day," he said, and leaned forward to kiss Quatre's left nipple where the wedding piercing had been. The regen unit had healed it completely.   
  
Quatre nodded. "I know. I think the hospital still has it. I'll have to get pierced again."   
  
"Wrong. And wrong, mon petit," Trowa purred. "Heero took it on his quest. He was wearing it around his neck when he and the others took his revenge on the men who hurt you. He gave it back to me in Japan and I held onto it for you. But what happened to it made me think. That could just as easily have happened during a show. So I made a few minor changes. I hope you don't mind"   
  
He opened the box and took out a pair of wedding bands. They were wide and masculine, made of brushed platinum, with an inset band of polished gold.

"The gold is our original rings," Trowa explained, opening his shirt to show that his nipple ring was gone, too. "I've been wearing a fake the past few days, while a jeweler friend of mine made these for us. I had them inscribed."  
  
Quatre looked inside the rings and blushed, then kissed Trowa again. Neither of them would say what the engravings were.   
  
"Meli, will you still marry me?" asked Trowa, and slipped one on Quatre's left ring finger as Quatre nodded.   
  
"Will you still marry me, Trowa Barton?" Quatre asked, and slid Trowa's ring on.  
  
"I pronounce you still husband and wife!" Duo chimed in.   
  
Still kissing, Trowa flipped him off but he was grinning.  
  
Heero was happy for them, but felt himself slipping down into a depression again all the same. Looking at the way the others were all laughing and smiling at each other, especially Trowa and Quatre, he felt that same strange, nameless pull he had in the garden. When he and Duo were finally alone again in their bed, with the door safely locked this time, he silently asked for lovemaking again and Duo gave him all he needed. He was more grateful than ever that it didn't matter between them who took top or bottom. For now, having Duo moving so sweetly deep inside him drove the darkness back in a way that nothing else could and let him sleep without bad dreams.  
  
+  
  
Heero had another light and wave treatment the following morning and came out of it with the same relaxed, peaceful feeling. The doctors warned him about expecting too much too soon, but Dr. Kano did admit that there had been a slight noticeable improvement in his blood work.  
  
"I do not wish to raise your hopes too quickly," he cautioned, "but the shift in your endocrine levels and brain activity is significant. You are responding to this treatment. While I must urge you to visualize your recovery in terms of months, rather than days or weeks, you will, I think, improve consistently. Things will get easier for you as you progress toward a maintenance level of care."  
  
Buoyed by this, Heero knew what he wanted to do before the brief initial high of the treatment faded. Duo understood and stayed behind to flirt with the nurses.  
  
He'd hoped to speak with Zechs and Wufei together, but he met the tall blond on his way down the corridor.   
  
"Heero!" Zechs caught him by the arm and steered him into a solarium. "I was on my way to pick up a few things-it doesn't matter. I've been wanting to talk to you in private and this may be the best chance I get."  
  
Zechs pulled a folded, rather dog-eared blue envelop from his hip pocket of his jeans. "Sorry for the condition. I've been carrying this damn thing around for weeks!"  
  
Puzzled, Heero opened it and several sheets of what appeared to be legal documents. He skimmed the first few lines of the first page and then sat down heavily in the nearest chair, feeling a little light headed. It was a letter from Treize Kushreneda's solicitor, explaining that the man had left Heero money in his will. "I--I don't understand."  
  
Zechs directed him to the second page, which was the actual excerpt from the will. "'I also hereby place in trust the sum of two million dollars, to be divided between the Gundam pilots known as Chang Wufei and Heero Yuy, 05 and 01 respectively, should they still be living at the time of my death, and not convicted of crimes against humanity. These funds are to be held in trust for them until they reach the age of eighteen, and forthwith made available to them to live as they see fit, with my blessing. Should one predecease the other, then the survivor shall be the recipient of the entire amount.  
  
Be it known that although we fought on opposite sides, I considered these three the finest warriors I have ever known. Would that we had met in kinder, more civilized times. I pray they will work for peace and find more success than I did.'"  
  
"I didn't know until recently. I told Wufei on his birthday and I was going to tell you the next day, but things spun out of control so fast."  
  
"Yes, I see," Heero mumbled, numbly reading the document again, trying to believe what he was seeing. "But why?"  
  
"He explains it right there, Heero. It's just the kind of man he was. If I hadn't come out of regen as I did, you both might have been s.o.l., but as it is, Wufei and I hoped that this might--well, make things easier for you and Duo."  
  
Heero looked up at him, confused. Zechs was clearly implying something but he couldn't imagine what. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm quite well off anyway. J left a generous trust fund. I have a pension. And--" He paused and allowed himself the ghost of a grin. "I put away a comfortable savings account during the war, courtesy of the Alliance's sloppy financial security codes."  
  
Zechs answered with a knowing wink. "I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. I'll just pretend I didn't hear that last bit. Well, I'm glad you're set. But you can never have too much, right? I'm sure you'll find some use for it. Wufei's investing his, and using it as a college fund."  
  
"Hn." Heero couldn't imagine himself in school but it might have to come to that eventually. "Thank you, for keeping this for me." He folded the papers and put them in his own pocket. "Does it seem strange to you, standing here like this now? After what we were, I mean?"  
  
Zechs nodded. "Sometimes, when I make myself think about who we all used to be. But it already seems such a long time ago, almost like those were different people."  
  
"Different people. Yes."  
  
Zechs reached out and took his hand. "The past is the past. We're traveling together into a better future. One that you boys and my sister helped create. One you kept me from destroying, once upon a time. If I let myself dwell on that, I'll go mad again and lose everything I have in the now. I won't let that happen. I have too much to lose, and someone I will not hurt."  
  
Heero managed a smile. "I am glad for you two. I believe you will make each other very happy."  
  
"Thank you, Heero. I wish you the same kind of happiness, you know. Go keep Wufei company for me, won't you? I won't be long." With a last wave and a parting wink, Zechs strode away on whatever errand he'd been off to.   
  
+  
  
Duo paused in Yuki's doorway with Nurse Minako, letting the kid get used to the idea of him being there, then slowly walked over to the bed and sat down. The boy looked a little better today, a little less spooked, but Duo resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. Minako sat down on the side of the bed. The boy didn't seem as scared of women. Small wonder.  
  
"Could you tell him hi, and ask if he knows who I am today?" asked Duo.  
  
Minako translated. The boy nodded. "02."  
  
Duo grinned at that and twirled the end of his braid. That almost got a smile. He pointed at Yuki. "Yuki-chan." He pointed at himself. "Duo-chan."  
  
Yuki gave him a skeptical look, clearly confused to have the great Gundam pilot hero putting them on such a familiar basis. Duo replied in the universal language of friendship; he grinned, puffed out his cheeks, and crossed his eyes.   
  
He uncrossed them just in time to catch the way Yuki rolled his eyes at that.  
  
"Hey, that's progress!" Duo said. "Ask him how he's feeling today."  
  
Minako translated and got a dark look and a long, grumbling reply. She hesitated a moment, then said, "He says 'fine, thank you for asking.'"  
  
"Bullshit," said Duo. The way Yuki's eyebrows shot up suggested that he knew a little street English.  
  
Minako blushed. "What he said was very rude."  
  
"So? Tell me. Word for word."  
  
"He said, "How do you fucking think I feel, you stupid long-haired gaijin asshole. Stop speaking to me like I'm a baby. You can stick your 'chan' talk up your ass.' I'm so sorry, Duo-san!"  
  
"No, that's great," Duo assured her. "Anger's good. Tell him, anger's good. He should be pissed as hell and I'm the only one around right now for him to yell at. Go on, tell him."  
  
Minako squirmed visibly but did as he asked. Yuki listened to her, but he was watching Duo, and Duo recognized the appraising look. This kid wasn't street tough, but he was street. When Minako was done he spat something back.  
  
"He says, 'what the hell do you know about it?'"  
  
Duo let the smile drop and gave Yuki a hard stare. "Tell him I grew up on the streets before I was a pilot. I got raped in the ass as a kid, and during the war, by guys a lot bigger than me. So I know plenty."  
  
Minako looked faint as she passed this on. Yuki looked a little stunned. Duo just folded his arms and met that glare with one of his own, daring him to call him a liar.  
  
Yuki just sat there a moment, breathing a little harder, eyes suspiciously bright, like he was trying not to cry, then said something else.   
  
"What did you do to the men who raped you?" Minako translated.  
  
"I couldn't do anything. They were bigger. They had all the power. I just had to get away and keep living. But tell him that Heero and me and our friends killed the men who fucked him. Tell him it felt good and I'm glad I did it. Tell him he owes me."  
  
"Duo-san! I can't tell a child that!"  
  
"Yeah, you can. This kid, anyway, 'cause it's what he understands and needs to hear," Duo told her. "Please, Minako. The shrinks can smooth him out later, but right now this is what kids like him and me need."  
  
Minako translated. Yuki's eyes went wide. He made her say it again. He thought about it, really thought. Then he looked at Duo again and made him an awkward seated bow. "Arigato, Maxwell-sama. Domo arigato."  
  
Duo stood up and extended a hand. When Yuki shook it he grinned. "You're welcome, buddy. Get some rest now. I just wanted to tell you that, so you'd know they weren't coming after you ever again."  
  
Minako translated that more willingly, then followed Duo to the elevator. She was very quiet as the car started down, but before they reached their floor she blurted out, "What you told me to tell him about you? That--that wasn't true, was it?"  
  
Duo looked down into her shocked, innocent eyes. Jesus, did nurses in Japan lead sheltered lives or what? On the other hand, how many years had he cut himself off from that truth about himself, denying that anything like that had happened? Like it had been his fault. Like it made him someone other than who he was. Like the shame of it belonged to him.  
  
"Yeah, it did happen to me, just like I said," he told her without rancor. The door opened and he strolled out, wondering where Heero was and feeling suddenly good, sort of the way he used to on the streets after he'd eaten something seriously spoiled out of some garbage pail and puked it up again. You were really sick for a while, but as soon as you got the poison out of your belly, you were fine.  
  
+  
  
The door of Wufei's room was ajar and Heero knocked softly, then looked in to find Wufei in bed again. He did get up several times a day, but he was still very weak and tired easily. Heero paused in the doorway, thinking he was asleep. He meant to go and come back later, but the sight of Wufei like this held him a moment.  
  
Wufei's gently slanted eyes were closed and his breathing was very deep and even. His expression was very peaceful, and there was the hint of a smile on his lips, one that made Heero suspect Zechs had kissed him good-bye just now. With his hair loose around his face like that, Wufei looked much softer and gentler than usual; quite attractive, really. In fact, he looked almost feminine like this, Heero thought with a smile, like some young Chinese goddess in a painted scroll. No wonder Wufei had always kept his hair pulled back and frowned all the time. He couldn't imagine the Chang Wufei he'd known during the war allowing anyone to see him like this and live.  
  
Heero was about to go when Wufei opened his eyes and caught him staring. "Heero. Please, come sit with me."  
  
Heero sat down in the chair next to the bed, feeling a bit awkward. "I came to apologize for my behavior yesterday."  
  
"No need. We didn't mean to tease." Wufei sounded sleepy, or drugged. He wasn't wearing his yukata; just a soft long sleeved tee that looked like it belonged to Zechs.   
  
"I know that. My moods are not stable and I took everything the wrong way. I know you weren't laughing at me."  
  
Wufei nodded slightly. "As I said, nothing to apologize for. I've been having mood swings of my own. It's the trauma to the body. It does odd things to the mind, as well."  
  
"Are you feeling ill? I should go," Heero said, starting to get up.  
  
"No, please, stay," Wufei said, gesturing weakly for him to remain. "Zechs is off getting measured for his new arm. You can keep me company for a while. I'm sure the nurse would bring us some tea."  
  
The nurses here clearly adored Wufei as much as the ones on their floor loved Duo. Within minutes a girl arrived with a tray holding a real rice china pot and two delicate painted Chinese cups. Heero raised the end of Wufei's bed higher and poured a cup for him. Wufei sipped at it gratefully. It was oolong, very sweet and fragrant. Heero sipped his in silence, watching how Wufei's slender fingers trembled as he cradled the cup.  
  
"You're still physically compromised." He wouldn't use the word 'weak' to Wufei's face, even in the medical sense.  
  
"Yes, but I'm improving quite quickly," Wufei replied calmly. "They're still doing a few hours of regen each day. They say I won't even have any visible scarring." He pulled down the neck of the shirt, showing Heero the top of an already faded pink incision.   
  
"I'm very glad." Heero swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. "Wufei, I know I've said it before, but I am so sorry-"  
  
Wufei sighed and set his cup down on the tray over his bed. "You have already apologized for the incidents leading to my wounding. I will accept this last one, on the condition that it _is_ the last one, and that you believe me when I tell you that there is nothing left to apologize for. What you and Duo did was rather foolish, I think, but I was not there and I do not know all the details behind your reasoning and decisions. I do know that you were not in your right mind, and therefore cannot be held responsible. So that is past and done. As for this, though?" He touched the scar on his chest. "This was not your fault. It is mine. You were a Preventer, Heero. You know as well as I do how inexcusably stupid it was of me not to take the extra sixty seconds to put on a flak vest. I'd had one on earlier in the day. That was my choice, my mistake. It cost Zechs his arm and nearly cost me my life, but it was my fault, not yours. It is an issue to be resolved between Zechs and myself. Do you understand?"  
  
"I will respect your wishes. We won't speak of this again," Heero replied, giving him a slight bow.   
  
A moment of uncomfortable silence passed. To change the subject, Heero said, "So, you are to marry Zechs. I'm happy for you."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"Of course! Anyone can see how much you love each other. You should be together."  
  
"Thank you. I wasn't sure, before, of your reaction. Perhaps it shouldn't matter so much, what my friends think, but I find that it does. Having lost my family and my colony-"  
  
"I understand," Heero said quietly, sparing him the necessity of an explanation. "I wanted to ask you, if it's not too personal, who asked who?"  
  
"He asked me, sweeping aside every impediment I'd imagined." Wufei looked down at his folded hands and smiled. "He's very good at that."  
  
"Where will you hold the ceremony?"  
  
"I don't care. He wants the wedding in Sanque. Although he scoffs as it now, I think he values his ties to his homeland very much. And of course, he wants our union officially recognized there for the sake of our children."  
  
Heero choked on his tea. "Ch-children? You are already thinking of adopting?"  
  
Wufei colored a little. "No, there is an in vitro process that will allow us to have children of our own."  
  
Heero listened in amazement as Wufei explained homogametic embryogenesis.  
  
"Of course, that's in the future," he said told him. "We are both too young to be parents, and I need to consider my degree program. And Zechs. He doesn't say it, but I don't think he knows what he wants yet."  
  
Heero smiled. "He wants you."  
  
Wufei's cheeks pinked again. "Yes."  
  
"What will you study?"  
  
"Sanque University has a very good comparative literature program, with a concentration in classical Chinese poetry. If I pursue my undergraduate degree there, that will give Zechs time in his homeland to figure things out. Then perhaps graduate work in China."  
  
"No more Preventers?" Heero already knew the answer.  
  
"No. No more Preventers. If nothing else, this last mission showed me how wise the rest of you have been to put that life behind you once and for all and move on. But what about you, Heero? What do you want?"  
  
"Duo," Heero replied without the slightest hesitation, then smiled to himself, knowing what Dr. Batoosingh would make of that. "Peace. Friends. Some useful occupation. I can't see myself in school, but who knows? I know I'm not in a frame of mind to make any serious decisions right now but-" He fidgeted with his cup. "When Zechs asked you to marry him, what did he say?"  
  
"It was after my second operation. He said that watching me die all those times, when my heart stopped, had shown him what life would be without me, and that he didn't want that." Wufei looked down, hiding behind the fall of his hair, but his voice was warm with emotion as he said softly, "He said it better than that, of course, but that was the gist of it."  
  
"Hn." Of course Zechs would know how to make a grand gesture. He was good with words.  
  
"You want to ask Duo, don't you?"  
  
It was Heero's turn to blush as he nodded. That's what had been pulling and gnawing at him, yet the thought of trying put it into words scared him. He kept his gaze fixed on the bottom of his teacup as he admitted, "I have for a while, almost since I came back, really. First it seemed too soon, then all this mess came up. Now I need to be certain that I can be stabilized mentally, before I even consider asking him for a commitment like that, but I do want to. I just-When I think of it, I can't think how to say it."  
  
"Are you certain about your feelings for him, Heero? Really certain?"  
  
Heero was a bit surprised that reserved Wufei would ask such a question. Then again, this was the new, in love Wufei. Eyes still fixed on his cup, he nodded again. "More certain than I've been of anything else in my life."  
  
"Perhaps it would help to try and vocalize some of those feelings with me, then," Wufei prompted, sounding like Batoosingh now. "What is it that makes you want to marry Duo?"  
  
Heero shook his head, grasping for words. It was like trying to get his arms around the world. "Everything," he said at last. "He's just-everything. Everything I want or need; it's him." He set the cup down and sank his head in his hands, frustrated at his own crippled verbal abilities when it came to things like this. "He's so beautiful! And not just his looks. He's everything that's beautiful to me." There was that word again. Everything. So damn vague! "He's everything and all that I want. No one else. Just Duo. Damn it, Wufei, you see? I'm no good a this. I know how I feel, I just don't know how to say it."  
  
"Oh yes you do, baby."  
  
Heero spun around in his chair to find Duo smiling at him from the doorway.   
  
Zechs was with him. He gave Wufei a nod and a fond smile. "Nicely done, mei."  
  
Heero was stunned for a moment, but only a moment. Rising, he went to Duo and looked at him carefully, reading the joy in his lover's eyes. "Whatever I just babbled out, it's not enough, and I'm still sick and you don't have to answer and there's no way you should be obligated-- but I meant every word."  
  
Duo answered by embracing him and giving him a deep, gentle kiss right there in front of everyone. When he pulled back at last, the tears had spilled over and his voice was husky, but joy shone even more brightly in those beautiful eyes. "I know you did. It was beautiful, what you said. Perfect. I've been trying to figure out how to say all that to you, too. You just beat me to it, that's all." He shot Wufei a grin. "Of course, you had help. No fair!"  
  
Wufei beamed at them from the bed, looking like a very contented Buddha. "I believe I just returned the great kindness the two of you did Zechs and me. Consider us even."  
  
"You planned this?" Heero exclaimed.  
  
"No. I simply recognized a moment of synchronicity when Duo showed up in the doorway just now, and took advantage of it. Perhaps it was my Gundam training. Improvisation was one of our most important skills, was it not?"  
  
Heero was still holding Duo. Resting his cheek against Duo's, he whispered, "You didn't answer yet."  
  
"Did too!" Duo laughed, kissing him again. "What, do I have to spell it out for you? OK, then. Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Heero Yuy. Anywhere. Anytime. The sooner the better. Yes, yes, yes, yes. Did you get all that? Want me to repeat it?"  
  
"Just the kiss part."  
  
Duo gave it back to him, verbatim.  
  
It wasn't how Heero had wanted to propose to Duo, and he still had misgivings about his own condition, but even the lingering edge of depression could not dull the joy he felt at this moment, holding Duo in his arms. Everything and all he wanted; that was Duo Maxwell, and only Duo Maxwell.   
  
He just hoped Trowa and Quatre could understand.


	92. Late Night Talk Radio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

"That's right folks, this hour of 'Ask Dr. Mike'is brought to you by Mama LaTour's Cajun Shrimp Boil Mix. Best in New Orleans! Mama LaTour's, one of WVUDO's many fine sponsors.  
  
"And now, back to our show. For those of you just joining the program, I'm Dr. Mike and we have a very interesting young man on the line. 'Trey' is married to another young man he claims to love, but has had some feelings for his best friend's fiance-they're both boys, too, listeners-and his best friend, too maybe. And, as came out just before the station break, he once slept with the man another male friend of his has hooked up with."  
  
"That's not what I--"  
  
"How old are you, Trey?"  
  
"Um, does that matter?"  
  
"Yes, I think so."  
  
"Twenty."  
  
"Twenty! Sounds to me like-- What the hell was that noise?"  
  
"Fire truck."  
  
"A fire truck? I see. So you're not calling from home?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Did you leave something out, Trey? Did your 'husband' throw you out tonight?"  
  
"No! I'm taking a walk."  
  
"At two in the morning?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"OoooooK. Our Trey is a man of few words, folks. So, long story short, you've gotten around. Have there been other relationships in your life, Trey? Sexual relationships?"  
  
"I wouldn't call them relationships."  
  
"Encounters, then."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How many? . . . Trey, you still with us?"  
  
"Yes. I was trying to estimate."  
  
"It doesn't have to be exact. More than ten?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"More than twenty? Trey?"  
  
"I would estimate several hundred."  
  
"Uh, could you repeat that, Trey? I think your cell phone may have faded out there for a minute."  
  
"Several hundred."  
  
"Hundreds?"  
  
An audible sigh. "Yes."  
  
"Did the guy you married know this?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"OK. Well, that's good, I guess. How many of these other encounters happened since you two got married?"  
  
"None! I've never cheated on him."  
  
"But you'd like to, with this other man you told me about?"  
  
"What? No! It wouldn't be cheating. That's what I was trying to explain. And that's not why I called. I keep telling you, I just wanted an opinion as to whether I should tell my other friend that I slept with his fiance before they met, and if I need therapy or not. I don't think so, but my friends say I do. Why are we talking about my sexual history?"  
  
"Well, Trey, I think it's a very good indicator that you do need some help. Sounds to me like you're a classic sex addict."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh yeah, Trey! Were you molested as a child?"  
  
"Dr. Mike?"  
  
"Yes, Jenny? That's my producer, folks. She screens the calls on our show. Do you have another caller for us?"  
  
"Yes, Dr. Mike. I have a young man on the line claiming to be Trey's husband. He'd like to speak to him."  
  
"Put him through, Jenny! This should be interesting, folks! See, it pays to be an insomniac in the Big Easy. Go ahead, caller. What would you like to say to Trey?"  
  
" _Trey?_ It's 'Honey'."  
  
"Uh-oh. Umm, hi-- Honey."  
  
"Hang up the phone, _Trey_. Now!"  
  
"Dr. Mike, we've lost Trey, but Honey's still on the line."  
  
"Hi, Honey, well, you certainly have an interesting-"  
  
"Excuse me, Dr. Mike. Do you hold a degree in clinical psychology or psychiatry?"  
  
"Well, now, I don't see how-"  
  
"That's what I thought. Good bye, Mike."  
  
"He's gone, too, Dr. Mike."  
  
"Ouch! Sounds like Trey's Honey isn't too sweet! If you boys are still listening, Dr. Mike says maybe you should try couples counseling. Our fine sponsor, Crystal Starsinger Shambala, specializes in gay intimacy issues----"  
  
\+   
  
Quatre had been fast asleep in a nest of pillows when Trowa had slipped out for a restless late night stroll. As he punched in the security code and let himself back in the courtyard gate, he looked up and saw that the bedroom lights were on upstairs now. Guilt and embarrassment weighted his footsteps as he forced himself across the garden, past the reconstructed fountain and up the wrought iron staircase.   
  
He paused on the walkway outside the window and peeked in through a gap in the curtains. Kat was still in bed, clad in that special silky therapeutic singlet he had to wear at night for his healing skin. It was an odd, asexual sort of thing, in an unattractive grey with white trim. Between that, the arm and leg splints, and the new hairstyle, he looked like a demented video game character.  
  
He was still lying on his stomach, but his head was propped up on pillows as he watched the door. He had his cell phone and a small radio on the bed beside him. Trowa took a deep breath and went in, but stopped just inside the door, head down, hands jammed deep in the pocket of his jeans, unsure of his welcome.   
  
Quatre shook his head and held out a hand. Trowa went to him and took it, letting Quatre pull him down beside him. Then he stroked Trowa's bangs back to look him in the eye, but he was smiling sadly as he said, "Dr. Mike? Trey?"  
  
Trowa dropped his face into his arms on the comforter. "How the hell did you know? Are you empathing in your sleep now or something?"  
  
"Nope. Cathy heard you on the radio and called me. Why, Trowa?"  
  
"I don't know! I couldn't sleep. I was listening to the radio while I walked and he came on. Heero's been after me to talk to someone . . ."  
  
"But Dr. Mike? His doctorate is in physical education. I checked on line."  
  
Trowa groaned. "So, I'm a not a sex addict?"  
  
"I don't know about that, but you're a sap on the radio. He totally led you. Heero gave me Batoosingh's card. Call him tomorrow. Trowa? _Trey?_ "  
  
"Yes! All right! You win. I'll call," Trowa mumbled into the bed.  
  
Quatre kissed him on the back of the neck. "Thank you, Treyyyyyy."  
  
"You're going to keep calling me that, aren't you?"  
  
"I kinda like it." He could hear Quatre grinning. "It's sexy. Trey the Horny Sex Addict."   
  
Trowa's growl of embarrassment changed quickly to an 'ahhh' of pleasure as Quatre licked the back of his neck, then began pulling at the jacket he was still wearing.   
  
"Strip for me, Trey."  
  
Trowa didn't have to be asked twice. Rolling off the bed, he quickly shed jacket and boots, then made a slower, more sensuous show of peeling off his snug black tee shirt and jeans. Standing there in his red and black briefs, he looked to Quatre for direction.   
  
Quatre looked quickly around the room, then had Trowa help him off the bed and over to the overstuffed armchair in the corner. He couldn't sit in it, with his tender back against the upholstery, but instead had Trowa drop his briefs and sit down. Kneeling between his spread thighs, Quatre found a comfortable way to rest his forearms over Trowa's on the chair arms without putting too much weight on them. Then he bent down and took his lover's already hard and ready cock into his mouth and proceeded to lick and suck Trey the Horney Sex Addict right out of his mind with pleasure.   
  
It was the first time since the explosion that Quatre had been able to touch him like this. Trowa gripped the arms of the chair, forcing himself to remain still and not do anything that might hurt his wounded lover.   
  
"That's right," Quatre whispered, pulling off his cock to kiss his way up Trowa's trembling belly. "Don't move. Keep your hands still. Imagine that they're tied there." The silky material of his singlet brushed across Trowa's neglected hard on.  
  
"Ah! Oh, yes!" Trowa closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the back of the chair.  
  
"Mmmmmm. You like that," Quatre growled, and nipped Trowa's left nippple. "You have to let me be in charge now, don't you? If you move, if you try to grab me and take control, it's all over. You just have to sit there and take it, don't you?"  
  
"Nnh! Yesss!" Suddenly it was excruciating not to move, but intensely erotic, too.   
  
Quatre lapped at his right nipple, then circled it with a firm tongue tip until Trowa let out a long whine of excitement. "Bondage without ropes, Trey. All I need is my voice to hold you here. Isn't that right? All I have to do is tell you what I want, and you'll do it."  
  
"Yessss!"  
  
"Stay absolutely still, Trey."   
  
Quatre was shaking a little now; he didn't have much reserve strength and even with his lower body supported against the chair, it was an awkward position for him. Trowa wanted to tell him they could stop, that he should go back to bed and rest, that they could pick this up again later, but now Quatre was kissing down his belly again, and taking his cock again, deep-throating him with long, smooth strokes of lips and tongue and throat.   
_  
//I can't move,//_ Trowa told himself, abandoning himself totally to the sensations to speed things along. _//I'm completely in his power. I'm helpless. Can't move. Can't get away. Can't do anything but lie here and take it . . .//_  
  
And that's all it took. The mind game, along with the restriction of not moving when the massive orgasm hit only made it hotter and he screamed as his whole body spasmed in place and his balls emptied themselves down his 'Honey's' throat. "Oh! Oh, meu mestre pequeno bonito!"  
  
Quatre licked him clean and collapsed panting against his legs. "That--that was so hot! But I think you're going to have to help 'pretty little master' back to bed. I can't move."  
  
"I'm not sure I can."  
  
"No hurry."  
  
Trowa took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes, looking down in love and a touch of awe at the tousled head resting on his knee. Quatre's breath was quick and hot against his balls, tickling his softening cock as it shrank slowly back to normal. Quatre always had been the master tactician, and the best talker. It was still a powerful combination.   
  
When Trowa trusted his own coordination again, he carried Quatre back to bed. When he had him settled back into his nest of pillows and blankets, Trowa stretched out naked beside him, pulled up the covers, and turned out the lights.

  
He stroked Quatre's hair, and kissed him softly on his warm lips and cheek, savoring his own scent lingering there. "And I did realize one thing, talking to Dr. Mike."  
  
"Mmmm? Whassat?" He was already half asleep.  
  
"I've never cheated on you because I've never wanted to," Trowa whispered, kissing him again. "Never even been tempted, not even with Heero. If we ever did anything, it would be with all four of us, together, agreeing, and that's different. But I don't need that, not like I need you."  
  
Quatre let out a fond, sleepy sound as he found Trowa's hand among the pillows and ran his thumb over the new ring. "I know, love. S'why I married you."


	93. Late Transcript #1:TB-W

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_Transcript entry by: Dr. Thomas R. Batoosingh_  
  
_Outpatient Services_  
  
_Winner Memorial Veterans Hospital_  
  
_L-2 ColonyNames censored for confidentiality._  
  
_Subject: T B-W._  
  
_Notes for Psychiatric Session #1_  
  
_12/20/198_  
  
_Subject has insisted on meeting in person, rather than by vid phone. My sense is that he means for this to be both our first and last session. Having known him through my association with DM and HY, I am still amazed that he would agree to therapy at all and my expectations for this session are low. In earlier encounters my impressions of T have been of someone very damaged by life, who has overcome great pain by sheer force of will. Unmistakable PTS, and yet the life bond he has established with his partner, the friendships he has maintained, the support he has lent to them, especially DM, and now, the creative endeavor he has masterminded force me to withhold all prejudgment of this complex young man._  
  
_Subject is punctual. Strong grip and rough palm noted when we shake hands, trademarks of his occupation. No signs of nail biting. Dressed casually, with touches of what I think of as dark artistic flair, sexual overtones: the trademark tight black pants-jeans today rather than leather he often favors--, dark blue silk shirt, long black leather coat, black leather western style boots with death's head's moths tooled into the leather. He wears a silver choker that looks like barbed wire and numerous bracelets made of black leather thongs and skull shaped beads. The overall effect is dark, but tasteful. Nothing about him suggests weakness or victim hood, nor does it exude any overt need to cause pain to others. "If I feel pain," this look seems to say, "it is because I choose it."_  
  
_Chooses armchair facing the door, rather than couch, as is common with combat veterans. Initially sits at ease, long legs loosely crossed at the ankle in front of him, arms resting on the arms of the chair. He has very attractive hands, long fingers. Wears wedding ring on left hand. Simple, very masculine design. His own design, he informs me when he notices me looking at it. I have seen his show, and seen him often in the news. It will be interesting, to discover how much of this artistic soul that manifests so well visually reflects his true deeper nature._  
  
_We sit like this for a moment, sizing each other up. He is clearly waiting for me to speak first. My opinion shifts. The stillness and ease with which he sits, the steady way he holds my gaze, the dispassionate expression; this is dominance play. It comes very naturally to him, but perhaps as a form of self-defense. Or perhaps invitation? I respond by closing my notebook and sitting back in my chair._  
  
I fear you've made a long flight for nothing, Mr. B.   
  
_It works. His facade is thin. I have caught him off guard. To his credit he covers his reaction well, but I see a hint of color in his face and a slight dilation of his one visible eye._  
  
TBW: What do you mean?  
  
You're clearly here against your will. I see no point in continuing the session. _(I stand up for good measure and go to my desk, turning my back on him in dismissal. If he as is adept at reading nonverbal cues as I believe him to be, this will be the critical tipping point. As I hope, he does not move, but he shifts in his chair. Legs cross more tightly. Arms drop to lap, hands clasped. I suspect it takes a conscious effort on his part not to cross his arms on his chest.)_  
  
TBW: No. I-that is, it is difficult for me to do this, but it's not against my will.   
  
You truly wish to seek therapy? I find that hard to believe.  
  
TBW: _(significant pause. Hands tighten in his lap. This is not easy for him.)_ I wish to explore the possibility.   
  
Why?  
  
TBW: I don't understand the question.  
  
I still don't believe that you want to do this, or that it was your idea.   
  
TBW: I admit, my friends have been pressuring me to see you for some time, but it was my decision to be here today.  
  
Why are you here today, Mr. B? _(The use of his single name is intentional and gets the desired reaction. He corrects me.)_  
  
TBW: My name is B-W now.   
  
(I decide to keep up the challenging tone. It seems to be working, drawing him out.) I see. And that's an important distinction to you?  
  
TBW: Of course!   
  
It seems rather cumbersome, using hyphenated names like that. Why not just choose one or the other?  
  
TBW: Q and I discussed that. At the time it seemed important that we both maintain our individual identities, but also join them. _(He pauses and I see the hint of a smile)_ It's rather ironic, actually. TB isn't even my real name. I didn't have one at all for years.   
  
Do you know your real name?  
  
TBW: Yes. Triton Bloom. Awful, isn't it? Something James Joyce would come up with. Q had always known me as T, and after the war he asked me to keep it as my legal name. I liked it better, too, and so I did.   
  
Why did you like that name better?  
  
TBW: _(laughs)_ Come now, doctor. Triton?   
  
Is that the only reason? You hadn't been T very long. Only a year, I think?   
  
TBW: That name let me be a Gundam pilot. The real TB was supposed to pilot Heavyarms, but he was an extremist, from an extremist family. He was killed and the scientist who headed the program on L-3 gave me the job and the name. It was the best thing that ever happened to me until then.  
  
Until then. Something better came along afterwards?  
  
TBW: Q. He's the best thing, and I wouldn't have met him if it hadn't been for all the rest.   
  
Ah yes. You love him very much, don't you?  
  
TBW: Yes. _(T surprises me with a show of genuine emotion. He blushes and blinks. He is adept, however, at using that long fall of hair to hide behind and he does now.)_

Do you need to talk about that?  
  
TBW: _(shrugs)_ What is there to say? I've loved him since the first moment I saw him. He's the first person I ever let kiss me.   
  
He was your first lover?  
  
TBW: _(lets out a very bitter laugh at that and looks up. He flips his hair back and the hardness and outright challenge in his eyes are a shock. The change was very swift. The barbwire necklace and death's head jewelry suddenly look very appropriate on this man.)_ You want to get right into it, do you? Did my friends coach you? Or have you just been doing some research on your own?  
  
I only know that you appeared to be very sexually active after the war. I don't know anything before that. And if you are referring to my sessions with DM, the subject of your early sexual history never came up.   
  
TBW: _(openly distrustful now)_ Really? Well, let me bring you up to speed, then. I grew up with mercenaries. Men slept with men all around me, and most of them at least liked each other. Some love each other and formed lasting bonds. No one raped me or laid a hand on me.   
  
_(Just for an instant I see an almost fugue like blankness come into his eyes and suspect the root of some trauma in this period of his life.)_   
  
TBW: It was later on, when another bunch took me up-I was about fourteen or fifteen I guess, then they started breaking me in, but it was never rape, OK? They let me set the rules.  
  
Rules?  
  
TBW: Yeah, the rules. No kissing. No fucking.  
  
I see. _(I wonder if he realizes that these are the same rules I have heard from almost every prostitute I have worked with?)_  
  
TBW: And they-they-  
  
They what, T?  
  
TBW: _(It takes him a moment to formulate an answer.)_ They looked after me. Gave me stuff-food, money, books, place to sleep. They let me work.  
  
You were a skilled mechanic?  
  
_(Another moment of that blankness. Only it's not really blank at all, but a mix of love and pain that he clearly cannot stay with it at all and quickly circumvents it and changes the subject.)_  
  
TBW: The mercenaries trained me on suits as soon as I could lift a wrench. I earned my keep and I was good. They taught me everything, how to fix mecha, demolitions, how to pilot and fight, languages, how to read. It's all the schooling I had, before the Barton Foundation took me on, but it was good. They were- _(another agonizingly fought moment of emotion follows.)_ They were good to me.   
  
Were the second group of mercenaries, and the men of the Barton Foundation good to you?  
  
TBW: It was different.  
  
Because they expected you to interact with them sexually?  
  
TBW: I suppose that was part of it. But I was just an employee to them, a mechanic. A pilot. I didn't mind. It was better that way.   
  
It sounds lonely.   
  
TBW: _(shrugs)_  
  
May I ask you a few questions, T?  
  
TBW: That's your job, right? Go for it.  
  
Do you have trouble sleeping?  
  
TBW: Sometimes.  
  
Do you have nightmares?  
  
TBW: Yes.  
  
Frequently?  
  
TBW: Yes.  
  
Sexual dysfunction?  
  
TBW: Impotence? _(laughs)_ No.  
  
Promiscuous sexual behavior.  
  
TBW: Not lately.  
  
But in the past?  
  
TBW: Yes, I suppose some would see it that way.  
  
But you don't?  
  
TBW: What's wrong with liking sex?  
  
Did you enjoy every sexual encounter? Where they all at your own choosing?  
  
TBW: _(Looks away. Shrugs. Does not answer.)_  
  
Flashbacks?  
  
TBW: Occasionally.  
  
What triggers them?  
  
TBW: Noises, usually. Anything that sounds like an explosion or a gunshot.   
  
Have you been violent during these flashbacks? Have you hurt anyone or yourself?  
  
TBW: Not often, and not since right after the war. I hurt Q and D a few times, waking up from nightmares, and other people I was sleeping with. More recently I just get lost, you know? Forget where I am? Usually it has to do with thinking Q has been captured or hurt. _(He pauses, and this time he smiles at something.)_ Actually a few weeks ago I came close to shooting someone.  
  
This amuses you?  
  
TBW: I didn't hurt them, and the circumstances are funny in retrospect.  
  
Care to share?  
  
TBW: No.  
  
Very well. You had some rather serious flashbacks after the bombing of your home, didn't you?   
  
TBW: Well, yes! Q was seriously hurt, and I was shot up with all kinds of drugs . . .   
  
You were hurt quite seriously yourself, I believe.  
  
TBW: I've had worse. I'm fine. He's still healing and sleeping on his stomach.  
  
Very well. Q sustained more serious injuries. But while in the hospital you did have flashbacks, during which you broke an orderly's nose and a nurse's arm.  
  
TBW: I did? No one told me. That's too bad.   
  
According to the report I was given, you had to be sedated and restrained. Only your fellow Gundam pilots could calm you down. Who was with you during the near shooting incident you just mentioned?  
  
TBW: Everyone. They all talked me down.  
  
You said earlier that after the war you hurt some other people. Were your friends there to stop you?  
  
TBW: Not always.   
  
How badly did you hurt these people?  
  
TBW: I-I don't remember all of it. I know I broke one guy's jaw. Some ribs on another, but that was a bar fight.  
  
Trowa, you have a history of violence.  
  
TBW: I wouldn't call it a---  
  
Then you are in denial. And since I still sense great doubt and hesitation in you, T, I'm going to be very honest, and will leave it up to you whether you wish to continue seeing me after today. I've counseled hundreds of young men just like you. You are one of the lucky ones. You are suffering from serious and prolonged Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome that manifests itself in violence toward yourself and others. You are fortunate in having a support system of friends, otherwise you might be far less well off than you are right now. Don't get me wrong; I can see that you are tremendously strong and talented. I believe you can have a long, happy, and productive life. But I think there is a shadow over you now from your past, and it goes far past your time as a Gundam pilot. I think we are dealing with abandonment issues, neglect, the abuse of being made to act as a child prostitute-  
  
TBW: I was not a whore! _(Less reaction that I would have anticipated. He looks more perplexed than insulted by my assertion.)_  
  
You said they paid you for sexual favors.  
  
TBW: It wasn't like that.   
  
Was it common practice? Did you barter with other men for sex, as well?  
  
TBW: Uh-no-  
  
Was there affection involved then? Your rules didn't make it sound like there was.  
  
TBW: No, it wasn't about-Look, you wouldn't understand.   
  
Because I didn't grow up in your world?  
  
TBW: Exactly. What was normal for me might not make sense to you. But it does to me. It's not a problem. People make too big a deal about sex anyway.   
  
If that's true, then why the rules?  
  
TBW: Because-I don't know. I just knew I had to keep some things back for myself.   
  
Intimate things. Things you wished to share only with someone you really cared for?  
  
TBW: Right. Exactly.   
  
And did it work out for you?  
  
TBW: Yes. Yes it did. Look, doctor, I appreciate all you're saying, and you may be right about the violent tendencies. I probably should be more worried about that. But the sex stuff I'm OK with. I don't want to talk about that. I've got that covered. I'm not some sex addict. I don't cheat on Q. I can keep my pants zipped on my own, and I've had plenty of opportunities to do otherwise, believe me.  
  
Then you would like to come back and talk about other things?   
  
TBW: If you promise not to call me a whore again.  
  
I wasn't calling you that, or judging you, I assure you.   
  
TBW: Just don't go there. If there's one thing we don't have to waste any time over, it's my sex life. I'm fine with that.  
  
Agreed. It's perfectly acceptable for there to be rules between us for these sessions, you know. They can change as you change, but it's important that you feel safe talking to me.  
  
TBW: For the record, I don't, but since D and H vouch for you, then I guess I'll give you a chance. Just stay out of my bedroom. That's fine, and it's sacred. I don't discuss it with outsiders.  
  
I understand. Rule number one: T's sex life is off limits.  
  
TBW: I hope that won't make our sessions too boring for you.   
  
I'm sure we'll find other things to talk about. Will you allow me to ask about your childhood? I'm far more interested in that.  
  
_(A long, uncomfortable pause, with very tense body language.)_  
  
TBW: I'll try.   
  
That's all I ask. Do you have any questions?  
  
TBW: Do you think I'm crazy?  
  
No, not at all.  
  
TBW: Thanks for that, I guess. You've seen our show, haven't you?  
  
Yes, it's wonderful. I hope to see it again soon.  
  
TBW: If you've seen the show, then you've seen part of my soul. A part I value. If fixing me is going to change that, then I can't do this.  
  
Actually, T, that's a very common fear among creative people. No amount of therapy will change what has happened to you in your life. Isn't that what you really draw on?   
  
TBW: We'll see. If I start losing my edge, it's over.  
  
That is always up to you. It's not like anyone is having you committed here.  
  
TBW: Good. Just so you understand.   
  
I'll add it to the rules.   
  
TBW: No fucking or kissing either, doctor. Just so you know where we stand.  
  
I'll make a note.   
  
_\---end of session transcript---_  
  
_I must admit, I did not expect a second session with TBW, but he has scheduled another for next week, and again in person here, rather than by vidphone. I suspect that given his personality type, which is highly physical and sexualized, he feels more in control being in the same room with me, being able to read my body language, facial expressions, etc. directly rather than through a screen._  
  
_I'm not displeased by this. What a magnificent mix of strength and sorrow, awareness and self-deception this man is! I find myself oddly energized, just being in the same room with him. That, coupled with his exotic looks, makes me think that he must have been an instant star of any sex club he entered. The raw sexuality of the man rivals even D's, in part because he is more aware and in control of it, and perhaps also simply an accident of genetics or personality. He is, as DM would put it, "sex on legs" and uses it as a life skill. QWB can count himself lucky if promiscuity is truly not a part of his husband's PTS pathology._  
  
_I cannot help but think of T's magnificent circus, with all its sex and darkness. T is right to say that it is his soul on display. I recalled that closing admonition he gives the audience. I found a transcript of it on the show's website: "Wrap yourself around someone for what remains of this night, drink and fuck and laugh and share that life with them. After all, it's all we really have to give each other."_  
  
_There is a gritty, gut-level wisdom in those words, and I read more affirmation than fatalism between the lines. It was certainly reflected in the remarkable pair of acts he performs, transitioning from what appears to be the death throes of war to the healing arms of his lover. What a tremendous catharsis, not only for the artist but for the audience, as well. He is a true artist. I only hope I have something to offer him in the way of peace with his past. There is something there, a corrosive experience that may well not have anything to do with sex at all. The question is, can he let go of it and maintain his sense of self?_


	94. Uphill Climb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Three days of light therapy was already showing results. Heero was still tired and prone to sudden changes of mood, but the swings were smaller and the lows weren't as deep. He and Duo spent much of their free time with Zechs and Wufei. Wufei was gaining health rapidly, though he was still moving like an old man when he had to walk very far. But he'd resumed daily meditation and had talked Zechs into trying it.   
  
"Do you find it relaxing?" asked Heero.  
  
"So far it only makes me horny," Zechs admitted with a laugh.   
  
"Zechs!" Wufei gasped, blushing furiously.  
  
"I'm sorry, my love. I can't explain it, but you just look so serene and exotic, sitting there on your cushion with your eyes closed and your breathing so-Well, never mind." Now Zechs was blushing, and shifting a bit uncomfortably in his chair.   
  
It occurred to Heero that given the seriousness of Wufei's condition, sex would be out of the question for some time for the two of them. Given what he now knew of Merquise's libido, he wondered how they were going to cope. Perhaps Wufei could perform oral sex in some relaxed position, with Zechs doing most of the work-- Heero caught himself and ducked his head, unable to look at the others for a few minutes.   
  
+  
  
That was during the day. The nights were a different story. From the very first Heero's dreams increased in vividness, but they were fragmentary and confused. He caught glimpses of that neon sign outside the restaurant where he and Duo had been captured, hands reaching for them, the cold room where they'd been held with Yuki-he guess those were all part of the newest chapter of his PTS. But there were other images, and these disturbed him more. Empty streets in the rain. His own haggard face shown in fragments in a broken, flyspecked mirror, and with it the horrible, terrifying moment when unseen hands grabbed him and held him down and touched him, touched him everywhere, and so brutally that he woke up again and again to find he'd lashed out at Duo or pushed him out of the bed.   
  
"You have to move to another room!" he begged, standing in the cold light of the little bathroom, helping Duo staunch the bleeding from his nose after one such rude awakening. His lover was already sporting a variety of new bruises and a swollen lip.   
  
"No way, baby," Duo said, voice muffled by the wet, bloodstained washcloth pressed to his face. "I know it's not me you're trying to hurt."  
  
"But I *am* hurting you!" Heero cried. "Look at you? You know I've got my strength back. If I attack you with serious intent in my sleep, you know what I'm capable of! Do you think I could live with that? Please, Duo, don't put me in that position. Not now!" He was trembling violently, and suddenly a horrible wave of nausea hit. Fortunately they were already in the bathroom. Falling to his knees in front of the toilet, he hung over the bowl, spewing up the roiling contents of his stomach while Duo crouched behind him, stroking his back.  
  
When he was empty he was too weak to move. Duo had to hoist him to his feet and support him all the way back to the bed. Once there he gave him some water to rinse the foul taste from his mouth, then fetched a clean wet washcloth and folded it across Heero's brow. His whole body was covered in a clammy sweat and he couldn't stop shaking. Duo tucked him in under the blankets and took the chair by the bed.   
  
"I could hurt you," Heero croaked, resuming the argument even though his head was still spinning. "I could kill you."  
  
"Not on your best day, 01," Duo scoffed, but he looked sad as he took Heero's hand in his. "I'm not leaving you to face this alone. Not even for one night. Copy that? This is my mission, too."  
  
+  
  
They argued about it until dawn, which hadn't been far away. In the end, it was Heero who came up with the solution and the doctors reluctantly agreed. When they bedded down together the following night, Heero's hands and feet were cuffed to the bedrails in heavy restraints. Duo waited until the orderlies were gone, then climbed in beside him and curled himself carefully in beside him. Worried that an arm across Heero's chest might panic him in his sleep, Duo just rested his head on Heero's shoulder and tucked his hand under his cheek.   
  
"That OK, baby?"   
  
Heero felt remarkably content with the situation. "Yes, I think this is a good compromise. I'm comfortable, and I feel safe with you here, as along as the door is securely locked and the lights are on.  
  
"Door's locked. We don't want Nurse Catheter in here again, right? 'No sex in room. You very, very bad!'" Duo laughed, making a joke of it, although they both knew it was a huge concession, for Heero to allow himself to be held helpless like this. He gave one of Heero's leg restraints a playful nudge with a bare toe. "Ya know, under different circumstances, this could be fun."  
  
Heero chuckled, a nice rumbly sound under Duo's cheek. "Yes, you'll have to show me sometime, what you find so erotic about being tied down. Right now I don't see the attraction." He was exhausted and sore and his cock was a limp thing against one thigh under his hospital pajama pants.   
  
"Only if you really want it. It's not for everyone. Besides, I think of you more as a top," Duo said, snuggling closer. "And you can tie me up any time you want!"  
  
"Do you ever think maybe it's odd that you like that, considering what happened to you before?"  
  
Duo shrugged. "Dr. B asked me the same thing in my last session. I dunno. I guess maybe the whole bondage rules system makes me feel like I'm in control this time. The bottom is, you know, if you're doing it right and playing safe. You discuss the scene first, and they both have to agree what's allowed and what isn't. If things aren't working or get too intense, you've got the safe word to make it stop. There ain't no safe words in rape."  
  
"But why relive it at all?"  
  
"I don't know," Duo sighed. "It just helps, that's all. And I say, if it works, don't fix it."  
  
"You used to get hurt, though. I've talked to Trowa and Quatre about it. You let men go to far and didn't stop them."  
  
"Yeah, I did. But that's over now, 'K? The kind of pain I was in back then needed a lot of hurting from someone else to make me stop feeling anything at all. I don't need that anymore, not since I got you back."  
  
"What if you lost me again, though?" Heero asked, insightful as ever.  
  
"I don't know, baby."  
  
Heero shifted so he could look Duo in the eye. "If anything happened to me, if I died-"  
  
"Heero, don't. I don't want to talk like that."  
  
"Listen to me, Duo," Heero said sternly, commanding in spite of being the one in restraints. "If anything ever happened to me, I'd want you to go on living and be happy. I'd want you to find someone else who would love you and take good care of you for me. Promise me that's what you'd do."  
  
"Heero-"  
  
"Promise me."  
  
"I can't!" Duo sat up abruptly, heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't had an anxiety attack in weeks but he felt one coming on now. With shaking hands, he undid Heero's wrist restraints and burrowed into his arms as the tears came. "Don't talk like that, Heero! Please. That's my number one big fear and it's going to take me a long time and lots of therapy to get over it. I don't even like being in a different room than you! Just the thought-If you ever-I just can't-"  
  
He totally lost it. All the stress and strain of the past few difficult weeks, the awful revelations and watching Heero shot down before his eyes, it all came pouring out now in hoarse, ugly heaving sobs against Heero's chest.   
  
Strong arms tightened around him. Heero sat up pulled Duo into his lap to hold him, stroking his braid and back. "I'm sorry, Duo. Forgive me. It's too soon. I just can't bear the thought of anyone hurting you, of you letting them do it!"  
  
"I know," Duo mumbled, wiping his nose on a corner of the sheet. "That's what got us out of that mess with Hato's men that night. Do you remember what happened? You were kinda out of it by then."  
  
"I remember hearing you screaming for me. After that it's kind of a blur."   
  
"You were something else!" Duo wiped his face and kissed Heero on the cheek. "You saved my ass. You saved us all."  
  
"And led us into a dead end ambush."  
  
"But only because you remembered getting out that way before. That's what Hato said. He sealed that corridor off after you got away. Heero, do you remember any more about that?"  
  
Heero hugged him again, but Duo could feel a shudder run through him. "These dreams I'm having. I think it might be memories trying to surface. I think maybe I need to reclaim them before they take control of me again, the way they did before."  
  
"You were traumatized and sick before, baby. I don't think memories can hurt you now. Maybe you just need to clean them out of your system. Dr. B can help you. Maybe he can hypnotize you or something? I just want you to get past them so we don't need these." He nodded at the cuff hanging from the bed rail, and the ones still around Heero's ankles.  
  
"I'll ask him tomorrow." Heero lay back and pulled Duo with him, rubbing his back and kissing him gently. "We're both worn out, and I am getting very tired of being in this hospital."  
  
"Me too. Hey, what day is it, anyway?"  
  
"I've lost track. Would you check?"  
  
Duo rolled out of bed and found his laptop, snagging a box of tissues on the way. "December 22. Man, three days 'til Christmas."  
  
Heero pushed himself up on one elbow. "Do you celebrate that holiday?"  
  
"I'm not religious, no. When I was a kid it was tough. It sucks, being poor when everyone else is celebrating. After the war Trow and Kat and I got together then and had our own celebration. 'Project Meteor Day.'"  
  
"The day we all fell to Earth," Heero whispered, then let out a small laugh of surprise. "We didn't know each other at all, but our ships came down in a cluster, all part of the same mission. And there Zechs was to meet us."  
  
Duo raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Damn, you're right! He attacked your transport, didn't he? That was your first fight. But it's like the six of us were fated to end up together, huh?"  
  
Heero shrugged. "What do you do, for Meteor Day?"  
  
"Well, it's pretty much like Christmas, only Trowa's a militant atheist and Kat's still too Muslim to feel comfortable with a tree or anything, and I don't have any history with it. We put up a wreath with little toy Gundams on it and make a big meal and give each other dumb presents-well, they give each other pretty cool, sexy stuff-and get drunk or stoned off our asses."  
  
"What about Wufei? Did you invite him?"  
  
"Always, but he never came. He was like that, always keeping his distance unless there was an emergency. Looks like he's going to miss it this year, too. I don't think any of us will be up to the stoned part this year, but still- Well, I guess you and I aren't going to make it back, either, are we?" Another wave of sadness rolled over him, and fresh tears stung his eyes. "I sorta got used to being with them, like family, ya know? And I guess I was sort of looking forward to-ya know-- having a boyfriend of my own to share it with this year. Well, fiance now, right?"  
  
"Right." Heero gave him a warm smile. "If it means that much to you, then we will. I'd like to be there, too."  
  
"What? How?"  
  
"You're healing well, Duo. You're only here because of me. And I am in better physical shape than you at this point." He pulled up his shirt and showed off the pattern of nearly healed bullet wounds on his chest and belly. "I'll speak with Dr. B about accelerating my therapy. I will convince him that it would be counterproductive emotionally for you and I not to be with family for the holidays, and that my sessions can be held by vidphone, as before."  
  
"Baby, I don't think you're ready for that. I mean look at you, sleeping in cuffs!"  
  
Heero shrugged. "I can sleep in cuffs in New Orleans if necessary. I'm sure Trowa and I can rig something up. He's very good at being a top, you tell me. Keeping me controlled at night shouldn't be much of a problem, even if it means not sleeping in the big bed for awhile."  
  
Duo couldn't help the homesick little twinge that caused; he really did want to go home, but not if it would put Heero at risk in any way. "We'll talk to Dr. B. If he says you need to stay here, then we stay. Copy that?"  
  
"Copy that. Now come be a good fiance and tie me down and get in bed. Copy that?"  
  
Duo grinned. "See, I told you the bottom is always in control."


	95. Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero still felt shaky the next morning, but he was determined to get Duo to New Orleans by Earth Fall eve or Christmas Eve or whatever anyone wanted to call it! Mission accepted. It felt good to have a goal in sight again, after so many days of painful drifting.   
  
Dr. Batoosingh was commuting between his offices on L-2 and the hospital here in Tokyo and wasn't due until just before Heero's three o'clock session. He and Duo met with the physical therapist, who pronounced them both remarkably fit and needing only some more rest before they could resume a light work out.   
  
When they were finished they found Wufei and Zechs in the solarium, facing off over a chessboard. Wufei was still in his pajamas and yukata, and seated in a wheelchair. He had an oxygen tube under his nose again, and an IV rack stood close to his chair, with some sort of drip going into his left hand through a tube. He looked exhausted and there were dark circles under his eyes. He was also broadcasting gloom, and seemed to be playing half-heartedly. Zechs, sharp as ever in worn jeans and a white Oxford, was clearly trying to cheer him up.  
  
"What happened to you?" Duo demanded. "I thought you were off all the tubes and wires?"  
  
"A minor relapse," Wufei replied brusquely, scowling down at the board as if the pieces had offended him.  
  
Zechs looked up and shook his head at the others; don't poke the dragon.  
  
Heero quickly caught up with the moves and soon both of the others were growling at him not to kibitz. Duo had never had any patience for the game. Instead, he wandered around, poking at the garish Christmas decorations that had appeared there a few days ago. Ropes of sparkly silver and white garland were looped over the tall window frames, with lots of colored glass balls. A silver tree decorated in a similar fashion, along with multicolored lights stood on one corner of the room.   
  
Engrossed in the game, Heero didn't notice what Duo was doing until he came over and perched on the arm of Heero's chair. He was wearing a length of the garland like a stripper's boa and shining red and green Christmas ornaments dangled from his earlobes.   
  
"Whaddya think, baby? Want your present early?" he purred, shaking his head a little to make the ornaments swing.   
  
Heero wasn't really in the mood for flirting, and guessed it as more boredom than anything else on Duo's part, but he slipped an arm around him and tugged at the garland hanging over one shoulder. "I don't think I should open this one here, do you?"  
  
"Get a room! Oh wait, you have one," Wufei muttered, still frowning over his next move. Zechs had his queen cornered.  
  
"Grumpy, are we?" Duo shot back. "Seriously, what's up your butt this fine morning?"  
  
It probably wasn't the most tactful choice of words, Heero decided.   
  
"I'm leaking!" Wufei snapped, and sacrificed a pawn for no apparent reason.  
  
"A small leak has developed on his aorta at the edge of the regenerated tissue field. It was detected last night," Zechs explained. "It's only a minor setback, really. They're going to correct it with laser surgery and more regen this afternoon, but it means more time in recovery before I can take him home."  
  
"And it's possible it will remain a lifelong weakness," Wufei added glumly.  
  
Heero understood now. The prospect of possibly facing life as an invalid would be intolerable for Wufei.  
  
"Oh, man, I'm sorry!" Duo dropped the teasing at once as concern took over. "I bet they'll fix you up just fine, though. The docs here are great."  
  
"Well I wish they'd gotten it right the first time. Now we have to stay--" Wufei told him, and his voice sounded a bit unsteady under the snarky tone. He cleared his throat impatiently, then clutched his chest for a moment as another coughing fit racked him. He was shaking and sweating by the time it was done, and obviously weaker than he'd been yesterday.   
  
Fluid in the lungs, and probably mood swings, too, thought Heero. "How long are they keeping you?"  
  
"At least another ten days, with observation," Zechs replied. He'd moved to Wufei's side and was cradling his head against his shoulder as Wufei struggled for breath. "We'd hoped to be home by Christmas. But it looks like we'll be having it here instead."  
  
Wufei closed his eyes, looking limp and miserable.  
  
"Man, that sucks, all right," Duo said. "Heero's going to try and bust us out of here in time to get back with Tro and Kat. And you know you still have a standing invite, right, Wufei?"  
  
"Thank you," Wufei whispered without opening his eyes.  
  
"Invite for what?" asked Zechs.  
  
Duo explained Earth Fall Day and Heero saw the way Wufei looked away in pained silence when Duo revealed that Wufei had ignored invitations to join with the others. Zechs stole a compassionate glance down at his lover, still leaning heavily on his chest, and pressed a kiss into his hair. Wufei did not complain or pull away, just sighed and closed his eyes again.  
  
Yes, Zechs is exactly what Wufei needs, thought Heero, watching them together and thinking again of how they'd all been drawn together that first day of Heero's war.  
  
"I was thinking, maybe next year all of us could try and get together?" Duo said, more to Zechs than Wufei. "I mean, with things being so different and all now?"  
  
"What do you say, mei?" asked Zechs, taking his lover's hand. "I think that would be lovely, don't you? Something to look forward to."  
  
Wufei looked shyly at Duo. "The invitation is still good for then?"  
  
"Of course, Wu-man, it always is! And you know we want you back in the Big Easy way before that, to finish out your birthday visit properly, too, ya know. Who knows, maybe you can even make it to Heero's big day, January eighth. Otherwise you have to wait all the way to September for Kat's birthday and mine. Of course, you can come visit any time, but it would be nice if-well, if you were around for some of the big events, too. Happy ones, this time. No more 'Maxwell meltdowns'!"  
  
Wufei shook his head slowly but he was smiling a little now. "I'm still getting used to it, having things to look forward to."  
  
"So am I. But it's important," Heero said quietly. "Otherwise, you lose your way."  
  
Just then a nurse came into the solarium. "Yuy-sama? There are people here to see you."  
  
"Visitors?" Heero asked, perplexed. Everyone he knew in Japan was here.  
  
"No, Yuy-sama, it is the police. They wait for you in your room."  
  
"Oh fuck," muttered Duo. "Guess the shit's gonna hit the fan now, huh? Well, it's been nice knowing you, guys."  
  
"There shouldn't be any problem," Wufei said. "Zechs and I saw to your cover story ourselves. Une signed off on everything personally."  
  
Heero rose, feeling a cold knot of fear tightening in his gut. "I don't think that's what they are here to speak to me about. Duo, would you mind remaining here?"  
  
"Yeah, I would," Duo said firmly. "Come on. I'll help you talk your way out of whatever it is."  
  
+  
  
Heero was momentarily relieved to see Sally Po with the plainclothes detective. She was in full uniform, and had a bulky evidence bag under one arm.   
  
The cop bowed and flashed a badge. "Yuy-sama, Maxwell-sama, I am Inspector Hiroka of the Kisarazu Sex Crimes Division. Please forgive me for troubling you while you are still recovering, but time is off the essence with our investigation. Major Po is acting as Preventer liaison in our investigation."  
  
Heero kept his mouth shut and sat down on his bed with Duo beside him, leaving the chairs for the others.   
  
"I've impressed upon Inspector Hiroka and his superiors the top secret nature of your mission in Kisarazu, Heero," Sally assured him. "Unfortunately, certain evidence has come to light that we need to discuss with you."  
  
The cold knot in Heero's stomach was almost painful now. He knew what they'd have in that bag. He didn't want to see it, didn't want to admit it existed. Sweat broke out down his sides under his shirt and down the back of his neck. "What is it?" he demanded, and it came out in his old mission voice, hard and flat, emotionless, but inside he was panicked.  
  
"We confiscated a huge amount of material from the building where you both were held," Hiroka told him. "Hato and his associates had been at work for some times, years it seems. We have literally thousands of hours of vid of the rape, torture and murder of young boys, as well as photos, website networks. He was producing and distributing these materials to a worldwide clientele.  
  
Heero wanted to crawl under the bed and hide, but he refused to show it, just remained motionless, revealing nothing except for the sweat he couldn't seem to control.  
  
"Hato was into this kind of shit long before the war," Sally told them. "But it is clear that at some point he became fixated on you, Heero, probably after the attack on the Kisarazu base."  
  
"And perhaps in part because you fit the profile of the kind of boys he was preying on," Hiroka added. "I have had to watch many unpleasant things in these materials. All the boys resemble you somewhat, and more so once he started targeting boys to dress up like you. It was not until after the war ended that he was hired by Rafael Conte to write for his Gundam porn films. We are hoping to tie Conte in with the murders, but so far there is no connection. Perhaps you can aide us in that."  
  
"How?"  
  
"First, I must ask you to look at some photos." Hiroka took a packet from his envelope and passed it to Heero. There appeared to be at least forty pictures.  
  
Does he know? Heero thought with a sick shudder. Is he testing me somehow? Now everyone was going to know! It would be all over the news. "Gundam Boy 01 Raped By Sadistic Pornographers." He could imagine already what the tabloids would do with this.   
  
Everyone would know. Total strangers. People on the street. He couldn't go anywhere without being noticed, recognized. And it wouldn't be like Meir's unfounded accusation. He would not be able to stare this one down, because it was true. Heero clutched the pictures, wondering if he could get though this without having to go throw up again.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to look at all of them carefully and tell me if you recognize any of them."  
  
It wasn't as bad as he'd feared. They weren't like the ones Hato had sent him. There was no abuse going on in the pictures, just shots of boys dressed in black Spandex shorts and green tank tops and ugly yellow sneakers. Most of them were smiling. These must have been taken before they realized what was really going to happen to them, Heero thought, heart hammering in his chest. One by one, he looked at each of them, bracing to find his own face there.   
  
He found Yuki first, picture number 32. The kid was looking up into the camera with a calculating smile. He was younger than most of the others, who appeared to range from fifteen to seventeen, but the expression on his face suggested that Yuki hadn't been a complete innocent. Maybe he'd been hustling on the streets to survive. Still, nothing justified what had been done to him. He was now recovering from surgery to restore the use of his legs, and he was still in the children's psychiatric ward under observation. So far he had refused to speak with a therapist. Heero had already arranged to cover all the boy's medical costs.   
  
There were so many pictures, far more than the number of bodies he and Duo had stumbled upon. Heero's hands were shaking by the time he reached the last few. Any moment now, he was going to see his own face looking up at him, perhaps from one of those damning pictures his tormenters had sent, and then the questions would start in earnest. He slowly flipped through the last three, feeling ill. It must have shown, because Duo had moved closer and was resting a hand on his back. He hadn't said a word, which was unlike Duo, but he was looking pale as he watched those faces and familiar clothes repeated over and over again. Dark hair, Japanese features, some even had blue eyes, though none so dark as Heero's.  
  
Three. Not him.  
  
Two. Not him.  
  
One.  
  
Heero looked at the last picture in stunned silence. It wasn't him.   
"This is the boy Duo and I met there," Heero told the detective, holding out Yuki's photo. "I don't recognize the others."  
  
"I'm afraid they didn't look much like this anymore, when you did see some of them."  
  
"This guy's a fucking serial killer!" Duo gasped. "But how come they sent Sex Crimes instead of homicide?"  
  
"Homicide is running their own investigation. I am concerned with what was being done to these boys before they were killed, and tracking down customers of Hato's website and mail order business. The magnitude of the situation, and the number of men apparently involved, has called for several task forces. You may be questioned by Homicide, as well, but only as material witnesses. Those men you killed in the line of duty are being handled separately, and by the Preventers. It was clearly line of duty and you will not be held accountable."  
  
"I see."  
  
"You agree that these young men look somewhat like you?"  
  
"In superficial ways, I suppose." Heero was almost dizzy with relief.   
  
"Did you know Hato personally?"  
  
"What? No, of course not!"   
  
Hiroka exchanged a look with Sally, and then gave Heero a pitying look. "I am sorry, Yuy-sama, but there is one other photograph I must ask you about. It was found in a separate cache, together with several vids. It as apparently part of Hato's private collection, but there is evidence that the photos and vids were also reproduced for sale. Please, examine the photo carefully and tell me what you think."  
  
Heero's short lived relief turned to bile in the back of his throat as Hiroka took a smaller envelop from his jacket pocket and handed it to Heero. Inside was a copy of one of the pictures Hato had sent to taunt him. Mercifully, it had been cropped so that all that showed was a scared, dirty boy being held by the hair by someone behind him. His eyes were wide, filled with confusion and fear.   
  
Heero stared down at it, into his own wretched face.   
  
"We have identified the other men shown in the photos and vids. I can give you their names if you wish, but they are all dead now, including Hato. You and the boy are my only material witnesses, Yuy-sama, but there is no one left to prosecute for those particular, unless there were others besides the men in the pictures, or if you can give me Conte."  
  
Heero shook his head. "I don't know. I don't remember."  
  
"He was sick, off his head," Duo said, and now he had an arm protectively around Heero. "If you've seen the vids, then you know he wasn't himself. You can ask Dr. Batoosingh, his shrink. He was fugued. You can't push him on this!"  
  
"Then I see no reason to involve Captain Yuy any further, do you, detective?" asked Sally.  
  
"Are you sure you don't remember anyone else?" Hiroka persisted.  
  
"Yes. I don't even remember them."  
  
"Then the fact that all four men pictured were discovered in the main chamber, around a metal table near some vid equipment, with their necks broken after your escape with Maxwell, that is pure coincidence?"  
  
"Yes. I reacted to a crisis situation to save the child and Duo. I don't remember the faces of anyone I was forced to fight."  
  
"I see." Hiroka still looked doubtful, but Sally pulled rank on him.  
  
"That is a Preventer matter, detective. We will take care of any disciplinary action deemed necessary. It was line of duty action, heat of the moment. Both Captain Yuy, and Maxwell are trained for that. That's why they were brought in as specialists."  
  
"And no one saw a conflict of interest, with Yuy-sama's involvement with these men?"  
  
Sally sat back and folded her arms. "That is a security matter. I'm not at liberty to discuss it, as you well know. And now that you have asked all your questions, you will turn over all materials relating to Captain Yuy to me, as agreed. Starting with that." She held out her hand for the photo of Heero and he surrendered it. It was clear under the customary veneer of politeness and professionalism, Hiroka did not like having the Preventers running his show.  
  
All the same, Hiroka knew a brick wall when he hit one. He gave Sally the photo and rose to bow to the others. "I am sorry to have disturbed you, and to have perhaps stirred up unpleasant memories, Yuy-sama. For now, I will consider this matter closed."  
  
He left, but Sally remained behind, and locked the door after him. "I have something for you, as well, Heero, but it's something you might actually want."  
  
She tore the seal on the large padded envelope she'd been holding and pulled out a worn, water stained red leather scrapbook. The pages were swollen with dampness and it smelled musty and faintly of garbage. All the same, Heero accepted it and opened it carefully across his knees. The first page was blank, to keep out prying eyes. All of those after it were filled with carefully trimmed pictures of his friends, with dates and notes under most of them in his own small, careful printing.   
  
"Oh my god," Duo gasped, looking over his shoulder. "This is the scrapbook you kept, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," Heero replied softly, throat tight. He closed it and set it aside. "Hato had this."  
  
"I'm assuming that's where he got those pages he sent you," said Sally. I was able to pull prints of Hato and the others of the ones you sent me, and this whole books has been carefully checked. Lots of Hato, no Conte. I'm afraid that scum sucker may be clean as far as the murders go. Whether he knew about them or not, we don't know. Hiroka and I were both hoping you could give us something to justify another warrant to search Wasabi."  
  
"I'm sorry, Sally. I was planning to ask my doctor if we could do some sort of memory recovery process, but now I'm not sure I want to. If this ever got out into the press . . ." He broke off as another wave of anxiety threatened to overwhelm him.  
  
"He's not up to that kind of shit right now," Duo warned. "Seriously Sally, if anyone tries to push this, I'll fight them, and I won't be alone. The bastards are dead. They got what they deserve. Hiroka can go chase down Hato's customers to his heart's content without any help from us."  
  
"How many-" Heero whispered. "How many of the cops and Preventers have seen the vids and pictures he had of me?"  
  
"Just Hiroka and myself," Sally assured him. "I already knew what they were going to find, based on what you'd already sent me. Une had been briefed, but she agreed not to view the materials unless absolutely necessary. Hiroka is a decent guy, too. The materials will be sealed, and as soon as I can, I'll see to it that you get them for disposal. You can keep the scrapbook, if you like. It's not considered important, since you won't be testifying about your own abuse."  
  
"Thank you, Sally, and please thank Commander Une for me, as well," Heero said, letting himself sag against Duo a little. He felt like shit. "I just-I just want to go on as if this never happened. I'm a different person now."  
  
Sally stood and smiled down at them. "I can see that, Heero. I see it in both of you, and I'm really happy for you. I knew you were amazing the first time we met, even before you flung yourself off that cliff. I'm just glad there was a real person left under all that training. Duo, this one's for you. It was in the camera by that metal table. I saw just enough to realize what it was. No one's seen it. I got to it in time." She handed Duo what looked like a vid camera disk in a sealed plastic evidence bag.  
  
Duo grabbed it and shoved it deep into a pocket. "Thanks, Sal. There are enough fake vids of me out there, without this."  
  
"Will you be visiting with Wufei while you're here?" Heero asked.  
  
"Yes, I was planning on it," Sally replied. "I won't say anything about all this, but I'll tell him you're in the clear, all right?"  
  
"Thanks."  
  
As soon as she was gone Heero sank back on the bed and threw an arm across his eyes. He was shaky and nauseated and still sweating. The front of his shirt was dark with it.  
  
Duo sat by him and held his hand. "You did well, Heero."  
  
"I thought I was going to pass out!"  
  
"But you didn't. I think you scared Hiroka off, doing that Perfect Soldier death glare the whole time like that!"  
  
"Was I doing that?" Heero had assumed he'd looked terrified.  
  
"Yup," Duo chuckled. "I can read you. I know how upset you were, but most other people can't. They just see that Gundanium mask you put on and run like hell. Hey, is it OK if I look at the scrapbook? I won't, if it's too personal, but the way you talked about it and all-"  
  
Heero lifted the arm from his eyes and sat up. "I don't mind. I want to see it, too."  
  
They placed the large portfolio on the bed between them and Heero slowly turned the pages. Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and to a lesser extent, Wufei, covered every page. There were a few of other people, like Relena or Sally, but mostly it was the four Gundam boys. And one in particular.  
  
After a few pages Duo looked up. "You've got a lot of me in here."  
  
Heero shrugged. "I love you the most. I missed you the most. And you were in the news a lot, too."  
  
This was true. For every shot of Duo out clubbing or partying with the others there were more of him being arrested or carried into a hospital. Duo squinted down at Heero's notes. "'Duo looks good in green.' 'Duo kisses Quatre a lot.' Were you jealous, 'ro?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Duo paused over a page of the arrest photos. "'Duo looks so unhappy.' 'Duo losing weight.' You worried about me, too?"  
  
"Of course, at least when I was sane enough to think straight. I thought of you all the time."  
  
Duo blinked away tears as he kept turning pages. Midway through both the arrangement of clippings on the pages and the handwriting underneath became increasingly erratic. Further back neat glue or tape gave way to dirty masking tape, or even what appeared to be little bits of chewing gum used to stick the pictures down. Many of the pages were streaked with dirt. The writing wandered across the page, often illegible, in other places readable enough to make out disjointed ramblings of a disordered mind. The final pages had drawings instead of clippings. They were jumbled across the page, little sketches of all of them, and again, Duo dominated the numbers.  
  
"I must have been afraid I'd forget what you looked like," Heero said, running a finger over a likeness of Duo grinning.  
  
"God, Heero, you were falling apart, but you kept this up," Duo said, torn between sorrow and wonder. "We meant that much to you, way back then?"  
  
"Yes. You were all I had, and I thought I'd never see any of you again. I didn't dare go near you."  
  
Duo set the album aside and took Heero's face between his hands and kissed him. "Don't ever do that again, baby."  
  
"I know." Heero felt exhausted and low again. He lay down and rested his head in Duo's lap, and let out a deep sigh as he felt Duo stroke his hair. "What time is it?"  
  
"Eleven twenty."  
  
"Batoosingh at three." He felt himself drifting off under those gentle caresses.  
  
"I'll wake you, baby. I'm on watch. You sleep."  
  
Heero sighed again and let himself slip toward a dreamless doze.   
  
"It's over, baby," Duo whispered, still stroking his head. "It's over now."  
  
"No, it's not," Heero muttered, reluctantly leaving the comfort of Duo's lap. "You'd better keep your distance while I'm asleep, or cuff me."  
  
Duo leaned down and kissed him. "I'll be over on the other bed if you need me."  
  
+  
  
Heero slept without dreams and woke thinking of his mission. He and Duo arrived at the office Dr. Batoosingh used for their sessions and were surprised to hear raised voices. Not even Duo had ever known the doctor to lose his temper, but from the sound of it, he had now. Heero caught his name and leaned closer.  
  
"Do you have any idea what a set back this might have caused?" It seemed to be a once sided conversation, for there was a pause, then, "I will hold you personally responsible, Detective!"  
  
Heero waited a moment after the shouting stopped, then knocked and opened the door. The doctor was in his customary chair with his pad on his knee. He greeted them with his usual Basset hound smile, but his cheeks were still flushed.  
  
"Ah, will Duo be sitting in with you today?"  
  
"What was that all about?" Duo asked. When the doctor merely raised an eyebrow at him, he added, "You were kinda loud, just now."  
  
"I see. I just learned that the police interrogated you, and that they confronted you with photographs. I was just expressing my opinion that such a surprise visit was not in your best interests as my patient. Tell me, Heero, how are you doing?"  
  
"I'm all right. I brought this to show you. Sally, our friend in the Preventers, brought it." He handed Batoosingh the scrapbook.   
  
The doctor paged through it slowly. "How did it make you feel, seeing this again."  
  
"I'm glad to have it back."  
  
"Even given the circumstances?"  
  
"Yes, this meant a lot to me, especially when I was sick."  
  
Batoosingh closed the book and handed it back. "That's a very good sign. Now, would you like to tell me about the bruises I see on Duo and the fact that you requested to be restrained when you sleep?"  
  
That took a few minutes, and Duo helped, downplaying any danger to himself while Heero insisted on his concerns for his safety.   
  
"If you are going to insist on sleeping with him, then perhaps this is the best solution, for now. Has this brought up other issues you would like to discuss today? You both appear to have something on your mind."  
  
"I want to take Duo back to New Orleans to have the holidays with our friends. It is important to both of us, to have some sense of family at this time," Heero said, as if stating a mission parameter.  
  
"But only if you say Heero is up to making the trip," Duo added.   
  
"Hmmm." Batoosingh stared down at his pad, and tapped his lips with the end of his pen.  
  
"That didn't sound like a yes," Duo said, ready to fight Heero on it.  
  
"Nor is it a no," the man told him. "You are responding well to the light therapy. That can be continued at the New Orleans Medical Center on an outpatient basis. Your physical injuries are sufficiently healed. I am somewhat concerned about the night terrors, however. Duo, Heero is right to be cautious. You have only to look in the mirror to see that. It would be safer if you slept apart. Otherwise, you will have to continue the restraints until his recovery has progressed further."  
  
"Why is this happening now?" Heero asked. "I have never hurt him like this before."  
  
"You and Duo indulged in a bit of shock therapy when you went to Kisarazu. Simply being there again might have brought back memories. Given what you experienced, however, it's small wonder the gates of memory are bursting. Given how calm you seem to be about it, Heero, I think we may take this as a sign of healing. Recovery is not always a pleasant process, as you both well know."  
  
"Soooooo doc, you're saying we can go home?" said Duo.  
  
"Give me a few days with him, Duo. I want to be certain he's at a point where it is safe for him to be seen as an outpatient. I hope you will be able to travel soon."


	96. In the Bleak Midwinter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The laser surgery to repair the weakness in Wufei's chest was noninvasive and he began to feel better almost at once. He was still too weak to be released from the hospital, however, and the thought of spending his first real Christmas here left him depressed and prone to sudden bursts of self-pity when no one was around. Zechs's new arm was complete and a medical team from Sanque arrived for the fitting. This took him away from Wufei for hours at a time over the next few days, and though it ultimately was a successful installation, the lines around Zechs's eyes and mouth each night bore silent testimony to the discomfort involved. He made light of it, but Wufei could tell. Zechs would hear no more apologies from him on the matter, however. To make matters worse, the weather had turned foul, with gusts of rain and sleet beating against the windows.  
  
Zechs was as loving and attentive as ever, despite his own discomforts, but somehow, that just made Wufei feel worse. This was Zechs's first Christmas in some ways, too, at least since he'd reclaimed his own identity. They'd planned to spend it together in Sanque, observing the customs of that country. Wufei felt perfectly comfortable observing the customs of another culture, and Zechs was not religious. It was simply going to be colorful and romantic and fun, an important first step in their life together. Even the prospect of a "duty visit" with Relena had not dampened his enthusiasm.   
  
To have to be here, stuck in this room he was so dreadfully sick of, still dependent on nurses and drugs? It was as depressing as the view out his window.  
  
All the same, he decided to make the best of it. He'd already borrowed Duo's laptop and ordered gifts to be delivered here. He had the money Kushreneda had willed him. He would show Zechs he could be generous, too. One of the nurses who had a crush on him was hiding the packages for him as they arrived. A few were more carefully hidden than the others and he blushed even thinking about them, wondering if he could actually get up the courage to give them to Zechs.  
  
Heero was doing much better. The increased therapy was having a marked effect. They were scheduled to be released today, the 24th. With the time difference, they would be back in New Orleans in time to celebrate Christmas Eve, or Earth Fall Day eve, with the others. Wufei was happy for them, of course, and had gifts to send back with them, but self-pity welled up again whenever he thought about them leaving. For the past two years Quatre had begged him to join them, be part of their new tradition, and both years he'd stubbornly stayed away. Looking back now, he realized what a stunted, selfish person he'd been. They really had cared about him, and he'd been too blind and self-involved, and yes, perhaps a bit frightened of their newfound intimacy-- to appreciate it. Now he was going to miss it again.  
  
  
Heero and Duo were discharged late that afternoon. They came by Wufei's room dressed to travel, with their coats over their arms. Sitting there in his wheelchair in his pajamas like an invalid, Wufei did his best to smile as they came in, but it took an effort.   
  
"The gifts for you and the others are in that bag. Zechs just stepped out. I know he wants to say good-bye," he told them, his voice a little strained. Damn it, it must be the drugs they still had him on. He resolutely told himself he was not going to cry!  
  
"Hey, don't look like that!" Duo exclaimed, seeing through his act at once. He came over and gave Wufei a hug. "Ya know, I think I saw him in the solarium on the way by. Come on, we'll all say good-bye together. And I want a peek at this new arm of his."  
  
"No, really--" Wufei began, but Duo took command of the chair and wheeled him out of the room.   
  
Heero fell in beside them with the coats and the bag. "You look sad," he noted in his typical blunt fashion.   
  
"I'm just tired," Wufei mumbled. This was torture! Why couldn't they just have left him alone?  
  
Thankfully, this floor had mostly emptied out for the holidays. They met only a few nurses along the way. As they approached the open door of the solarium, Wufei saw that there were lights on there. Perhaps Zechs had found someone more cheerful to play a game of chess with.  
  
Duo wheeled him through the door and Wufei was shocked to find not only Zechs there, but Quatre and Trowa as well. Quatre was in a wheel chair, too, but he was positively beaming as he waved and said, "Happy Earth Fall Day, Wufei! You didn't think we were going to let you two spend your first one here all alone, did you?"  
  
Wufei looked around at the others who were all smiling at him now, and burst into tears.  
  
+  
  
Duo had felt bad about leaving Wu and Zechs in the hospital over the holiday, and Yuki, too, but there was no reason to remain in the hospital any longer. They were both healing well, and Heero's emotional state was on firm ground at last.   
  
They visited the boy each day and he was slowly letting down his guard and opening up. Heero talked him into agreeing to therapy to deal with the abuse, and then made certain that a reputable therapist was brought in. They'd already given him some presents, too, new clothes and a portable game system. The kid had been speechless, and then he'd cried. Heero was finding it hard to think of leaving him here alone when the time came to go home. Adoption was out of the question; he'd already looked into that. He and Duo were too young, and foreign, to begin with, not even taking into account their mental health history or lack of a permanent address. But Heero had managed to set up a trust fund in the kid's name and meant to make certain he did not end up on the streets ever again.  
  
He wasn't happy leaving Wufei and Zechs here for Christmas, either. Wufei had no family and it was debatable whether Zechs did or not. He and Duo talked it all over with Trowa and Kat by vid phone. It had been Quatre's idea for them to come here instead.  
  
"The kitchen isn't done yet and the garden's full of building materials. I'd love to escape the mess for a bit."   
  
"Are you up to the trip?" asked Heero.  
  
"Oh yes! I'm still having trouble with my left leg, but my back is much better."  
  
"I'll find us a nice hotel suite," said Trowa. "One with a king-sized bed."  
  
They'd felt a little guilty, keeping Wufei in the dark about their plans, but Zechs had insisted on secrecy. "He'll only make a fuss and try to talk you out of it."   
  
He was probably right, but Duo still felt bad, seeing Wufei break down like this when they sprang the surprise on him. It was probably embarrassing the hell out of the poor guy, with Zechs holding him like that, right there in front of everyone. He got himself under control quickly, though, and Zechs looked oddly pleased.   
  
"Looks like that new arm works just fine," Duo whispered to Heero.  
  
"I told you they were good friends," Zechs said, giving Wufei his handkerchief.   
  
"Sorry, Wu," Duo said, kneeling down by his chair. "But you're stuck with us this year. See, we even added you both to the wreath."  
  
"The what?" asked Wufei, and then retreated behind his handkerchief again as he saw what Duo was talking about.  
  
Trowa and Kat had brought the Earth Fall Day wreath with them. Trowa had made it their first year together and Quatre had sent Wufei pictures.   
  
The wreath was fashioned out of artificial greenery, like a regular Christmas wreath, but the big floppy bow was silver and instead of the usual decorations, there were six small, hand-painted Gundams. Duo had made the original five--they'd included Wufei right from the start, even though he wasn't there--and Trowa had made a little Tallgeese and added it next to the Shenlong. Zechs had actually been piloting a Leo that day, but the Tallgeese had been his suit of choice and he'd asked Trowa to use that instead.  
  
The wreath was hung on the back of a chair by the hospital Christmas tree, and the others had already piled their presents there. Unbeknownst to Wufei, Duo, Heero, and Zechs had all been out shopping yesterday while he took his afternoon nap.   
  
When they finally got Wufei calmed down, he called in one of the nurses and whispered to her. She went out, and came back pushing a wheelchair loaded with brightly wrapped gifts. There looked to be nearly a dozen, in every size and shape.  
  
"I did some shopping of my own," Wufei confessed shyly, watching as his offerings were added to the pile under the silver tree.  
  
Duo had charmed the hospital administrator into giving them the use of the room for the night. In keeping with past tradition, massive amounts of Chinese food and beer soon arrived for the evening feast and Duo had found an orderly who was willing to buy a bag of weed for him. Heero scowled a bit at that.  
  
"Hey, it's Earth Fall Day!" Duo told him, exchanging a wink with Kat. He'd taught the little blond to smoke the shit that time he'd stayed at his desert base. It had been one of their first bonding rituals. Proper as he'd seemed at the time, Kat had taken to it like a duck to water. Duo also noticed that Zechs looked pretty pleased with this development.  
  
While Duo rolled blunts with practiced ease, Trowa took five small flat packages out from under the tree and handed them around. "Welcome to Earth Fall Day eve," he said with mock solemnity, giving Zechs and Wufei theirs. "One of our many ancient traditions is the Earth Fall Day Eve Dress Code. Each year one of us chooses a theme and everyone must dress accordingly. The first year Duo won the toss and chose the theme. Duo's choice was 'Nudity.'" With a magician's flourish, Trowa produced a handful of photos and passed them around. These were some of the more tasteful pictures taken that night, but Wufei blushed anyway and quickly handed them back. Heero grinned. Zechs lingered a bit too long over them for Wufei's liking.  
  
"I might have guessed," Wufei growled, taking the pictures from his lover and giving them to Duo. "I'm not doing that. Not even for you."  
  
"No, it's different every year," Duo assured him. "Of course, no one says we can't repeat a theme now and then."  
  
"We decided to go by ascending order after that," Trowa continued. "Last year, I chose an island theme." The pictures were less risque this time, grass skirts and loud shirts. Quatre had opted for a coconut shell bra.  
  
"We all got lei'd that year," Duo quipped.  
  
Trowa and Kat rolled their eyes.   
  
"So it's my turn this year," Quatre continued. "Since we had two engagements in the group, I decided we should go for something romantic. Go on, open your boxes."  
  
Duo eagerly opened his. Quatre had refused to tell him what he was up to. It was a really small box. Duo ripped off the shiny silver paper and lifted the lid, then grinned at the contents. Inside were a pair of black silk boxer shorts covered in shiny red lip prints, a black 'beater' style tee shirt and a black leather cock ring with silver heart-shaped studs. Everyone else had gotten the same outfit, even Zechs and Wu.  
  
Duo looked up to find Wufei eyeing the cock ring skeptically.  
  
"Is this a bracelet of some sort?" he asked.  
  
Kat had come prepared. He snapped a picture of him holding it just as everyone else burst out laughing. He also caught the immediate shift to outrage a moment later as Zechs whispered the explanation in Wufei's ear.  
  
"OK, everyone go get changed," Quatre ordered.  
  
"You aren't serious!" Wufei gasped.  
  
"Come now, mei. It's tradition," Zechs said.   
  
"You knew about this?"  
  
"Not in detail, my love. But 'when in Rome', as they say."  
  
"We're in Tokyo."  
  
"Same thing," said Duo. "C'mon, Wu man. Pleeeeese? Heero's going to wear his, aren't you baby?"  
  
"Of course," Heero replied, already peeling off his shirt.   
  
"You would do anything that braided menace asked you to," Wufei pointed out.  
  
"True," Heero pulled the tight black shirt on and it molded itself to his toned chest and belly. Duo's mouth watered a little and the others smirked--except Wufei, who just stared.  
  
"And Kat and Tro came all this way just so we could finally be all together," Duo wheedled, seeing Wufei still adamant. "Gee, Wufei, you wouldn't want to hurt Kat's feelings, now, would you?"  
  
Quatre helpfully gave Wufei a big-eyed, imploring look, complete with pout.  
  
Wufei lasted about ten seconds under that combined onslaught. Or maybe it was Heero's abs under that shirt. "Very well!" he snapped. "But I get to wear my yukata. And no pictures!"  
  
"Dream on, 05," Duo laughed. "Go on, Zechs. Get your boyfriend changed. We'll make do here. Hurry up, the food's getting cold."  
  
The four of them who remained stripped and changed. They'd all been intimate enough with each other not to be embarassed at a little nudity. Heero did turn away, when Kat and Trowa put on each other's cock rings, but he gamely held up his to Duo.  
  
"Shall I?"  
  
"God, I love you!" Duo breathed, biting his lip as a rush of lust hit.   
  
Heero kissed him, then reached into Duo's black silk boxers and slipped the leather band around the base of his stiffening cock behind his balls. Duo winced a little as Heero pressed the snaps home, then gasped as a warm hand cupped his balls and stroked up his cock. The combination of the caress with the snug constriction of the ring made him want to go celebrate in private. Suddenly he was very anxious for Heero to resume he role as primary top.   
  
"My turn," he sighed, and made a slow, teasing job of snapping the leather band into place. Heero was trembling a little and had his eyes closed by the time Duo was done. When Duo settled the waistband of his boxers back into place, there was a considerable tent in the front of them. Heero grabbed him and gave him a passionate kiss, caressing his ass through the black silk and rocking his hips against him. Glancing over at the others, he found them doing the same, only Kat still had his hand in Trowa's boxers. Duo closed his eyes and happily concentrated on what Heero's tongue was doing to his. He broke away with considerable regret.  
  
"I don't think Wu is ready for this." He gave Heero's erection one last stroke. "Down, boy!"  
  
"I hope we haven't pushed Wufei too fast," Quatre said, noting how long the others had been gone. "I really only meant it as a joke."  
  
But Wu and Zechs were both smiling when Zechs wheeled him back in. They were both wearing the required outfit and looked hot as hell, even if Wufei had his ratty old blue bathrobe on over his. Zechs was robeless, and Duo got a good look at the new arm. Like the last one, the only thing that distinguished it from the real thing was the silver locking band. It was several inches higher than the old one, he noted with an inward wince.   
  
Duo was about to ask if they were wearing the entire outfit, when Wufei held up his right hand, showing Duo the cock ring snapped snugly around his wrist. The heart-shaped studs twinkled in the colored lights of the Christmas tree.   
  
"I rather like my bracelet," he said.   
  
Duo gave Zechs a quick once over as everyone laughed and Kat snapped more pictures, noting the man's own smug grin. If Zechsy was wearing the cock ring, it wasn't around his wrist.  
  
Trowa had brought a portable radio. He found a station playing cheesy Christmas music and they sat down in a circle on the floor and ate the Chinese with chopsticks straight from the cartons and washed it down with beer. Afterwards Duo lit up a couple of joints for dessert and they passed them around. Heero discreetly passed, sticking to beer, but Wufei toked like a pro.   
  
"You've done this before, I see," Zechs chuckled, watching him with amusement.   
  
Wufei held the smoke for a moment, and then exhaled and replied with a chagrinned look, "I don't make a habit of this anymore, but yes, I have."  
  
Trowa took the joint and Duo saw mischief in his eyes. "You've only smoked alone, I think, judging by your technique. You're wasting half the hit." He took a long pull, then leaned over to Quatre and blew the smoke gently into his mouth.   
  
Kat inhaled happily and kissed him. "Second hand smoke. I love it!"  
  
+  
  
Heero reveled in every moment of his first holiday, and felt a warm, quiet wonder at being here with these young men, his friends. Not so very long ago he'd had to watch from a distance, through photos and news feeds. He'd never imagined himself in the heart of their little family.  
  
He didn't mind Quatre's choice of theme. The room was warm and everyone looked very sexy. Even Wufei was falling in with the spirit of the evening. Heero caught him exchanging charged looks with Zechs and smiling that new, secret smile of his. Heero realized that he and Wufei had been the last to let go of their wartime selves and it had cost them both dearly. Love had saved them both.  
  
When they were done eating he couldn't help pulling Duo close and wrapping his arms around him. He wasn't sure if the cock ring was helping or making things worse. He did know he was going to make love to Duo before this night was over. He waited until Duo had taken a puff on the joint, then captured his lips with his own and sucked the pungent smoke from his mouth.  
  
"Decided to be wicked after all?" Duo asked, surprised but cuddly.  
  
"Just this once," Heero said, taking the joint from him and sucking in a mouthful of smoke to share back with him.   
  
"Present time!" Quatre announced when they were all pleasantly buzzed. "We usually do it tomorrow, but since we're headed back home then, we'll do it early this year."  
  
Duo had discussed things with Trowa and Quatre, and coached Heero and Zechs on the gift buying rules. Each couple bought something nice for each other, and a gift for the other couples to share. Wufei had been out of the loop, but done the same anyway.  
  
They'd were all already wearing their gifts from Trowa and Quatre. Wufei had gotten everyone antique absinthe glasses and silver absinthe spoons. Zechs gave them bottles of very good champagne. Duo and Heero gave each couple nicely framed sketches Heero had done of them.  
  
Then it was time for the couples' gifts. Heero took a small package from the dwindling pile and handed it to Duo. "This is from me."  
  
Duo opened it, and found a tiny, beautifully wrapped box inside. This turned out to be a black velvet box. Heero took it from him, then rose up on one knee and opened the box to reveal a heavy platinum band with a gorgeous oval-shaped indigo blue stone set into it.   
  
"I wanted to ask you more properly," he said, smiling up at Duo. "Will you marry me, Duo Maxwell?"  
  
"You know I will, baby. Is this an engagement ring?" Duo gasped. It was beautiful.  
  
"Yes. The man at the jewelry store said it is quite common nowadays, for men to wear them, too. It's a Burmese sapphire, the birthstone for September, which you've chosen as your birthday. He also claimed that according to tradition, the stone brings health, wealth, longevity, happiness, prosperity, and fame to the wearer. I wish all those things for you in our life together." He took the ring from the box and slipped it onto Duo's finger. "There is a wedding band that goes with it. You get that later."  
  
Duo kissed him, and then retrieved a tiny package hidden in the tree. "I think I better give this to you now. Looks like we shopped at the same store." He knelt in front of him as Heero unwrapped an identical box. "You never gave me a chance to ask you at all, and now you beat me to it twice. Heero Yuy, will you marry me?"  
  
Inside the box was a ring identical to the one now twinkling on Duo's finger, set with the same blue stone. "The January stone is garnet, and that just didn't look like your kind of thing. I picked this one because it's the same blue as your eyes. And I like all that stuff you said it was supposed to help you with, too." He slid the ring on Heero's finger and kissed the back of his hand. "I love you, Heero, and I wanted to give you this on this day. Now we have better memories for it."  
  
"Damn, you two are so sweet!" Quatre exclaimed, tearing up. "And you didn't even buy them together, but they match!"  
  
"Well, there aren't that many guy's engagement rings to pick from," Duo admitted. "But I guess we have kinda the same taste, too. Or maybe that guy at the store recognized us and figured out what we were up to. He was looking at me kinda funny! Anway, I love it, Heero. It looks really good on both of us."  
  
Heero couldn't think of anything better than kissing him again, by way of an answer. He hadn't really thought about wearing one himself, but now he couldn't imagine taking it off.  
  
"I would like to give you your present now, Zechs," Wufei said, taking a tiny box from the pocket of his robe. "If you would give me a hand, I will kneel, too."  
  
"There's no need for that, my love," Zechs told him. "We're both already on the floor."  
  
"Very well, then." Wufei opened the little box to reveal a platinum band with a large round diamond set into it in a circle of gold. "It is an old Earth custom, I believe, to give one's intended a diamond."  
  
Zechs's pale blue eyes went wide as Wufei reached for his new left hand. "Mei, this is--It must have--"  
  
Wufei gave him a warning look, and then kissed his hand tenderly. "Diamonds are said to endure forever, and the circle is endless. Such is my love for you."  
  
"Mei," Zechs murmured. He kissed him again, then gave him his right hand instead. "I know it's not traditional, but I'd rather wear it on the real one."  
  
Wufei smiled and slipped it onto his ring finger. "We seem to be capable of making our own traditions."  
  
"I need a tissue," Quatre sniffled from Trowa's arms.  
  
"Man, talk about your G-factor. We are sooooooo gay!" laughed Duo.   
  
"I prefer to think that great minds think alike," said Zechs, presenting Wufei with a now very recognizable little box. This ring was masculine, like the others, and set with a large ruby.   
  
"It is your stone, as we've already determined. I hope you don't mind another, but I do so love you in red." He kissed the back of Wufei's left ring finger. "I told you I was saving this one for something special. Wear it always, to remember my passion and deep devotion to you, my beautiful Wufei."  
  
Quatre blew his nose loudly into his tissue. "This is the best Earth Fall Day ever! I don't know how we'll ever top this!"  
  
"Actually, Duo and I have one more gift to give you and Trowa," Heero told him, and pulled an envelop with a bow stuck to it from behind the tree.   
  
"Hey, you're breaking the rules," Quatre told him as he opened it. "You're only supposed to--- Oh Allah! Oh my fucking god! Heero, what the hell?"  
  
He and Trowa both stared down at the bank draft.   
  
"It's not a gift, exactly," Heero explained. "I'm offering to buy into your show as an investor. I know it's nowhere near what you stand to lose because of all the delays, but I thought it would help."  
  
"Two hundred thousand?" Trowa gasped, finding his voice at last. "Heero, I know you hacked money during the war, but this--You and Duo need to think of your own future!"  
  
"It's OK, really. I had an unexpected inheritance recently." Heero exchanged a look with Zechs. "I have plenty of money, and I really want to do this. I told you, it's an investment. Also, Duo and I are willing to perform in your show until Quatre is able to return. It is one of your selling points, is it not? Having Gundam boys on stage? I know I'm not trained for that exactly, but I thought some of my abilities from the war could be modified. I've very strong and agile. I could--well, I'm sure you could think of something?" He trailed off, not sure of their response. Quatre looked stunned. Trowa was giving him a blatantly appraising look.   
  
"You are very strong," he murmured.  
  
"People will go nuts!" Quatre exclaimed. He wiggled over to them and threw his arms around them both. "It won't even matter what the act is. It's enough that it's _you!_ And Duo. God, you're so gorgeous we just have to paint you silver or something and have you stand in the spot light!"   
  
"Ah c'mon, Kat! There's gotta be something fun I could do. I'm pretty agile too!"  
  
"He is," Heero agreed. "And supple."  
  
"I don't suppose you want in on this, Zechsy?" Duo laughed. "You'd cause quite a stir."  
  
"I already have, thank you," Zechs laughed. "The Sanque Parliament will soon be debating whether a potential heir to the throne can have a spouse of the same gender."  
  
"What if they say no?"  
  
Zechs hugged Wufei. "Then Relena better keep up her claim and have a few heirs of her own. I have no interest in ruling anyway, and certainly not without 'the man I love' at my side."  
  
Duo laughed. "You are such a G-boy, Zechsy!"  
  
"Thank you, Duo. So, what other traditions must be observed?"  
  
"Ummmm, well--" Quatre suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable.   
  
"We generally get really stoned and make out," Trowa finished for him.  
  
"All of you?" asked Heero.  
  
"Just messing around," Duo put in hastily. "Strip poker, spin the bottle, that kind of thing, until we pass out."  
  
"Strip poker would be a very short game in these outfits," Zechs chuckled. Wufei just looked scared.  
  
"That first year we started naked and had to put clothes back on every time someone lost a hand," Trowa mused, grinning.  
  
"Yeah, well, most of us aren't up to major drugging this year, and Wu, you've been a good sport. Don't worry, we're not going to embarrass you any more--this year, anyway," Duo told him.   
  
"I'm sorry, it's just that I am not used to such---pastimes." Wufei had turned almost as red as the stone in his ring.   
  
"We know that. It's quite all right," Heero assured him. "No one would expect you to---"  
  
"I've never played this 'spin the bottle', but I do understand the concept," Wufei went on before Heero could finish. "If--if the rest of you wished to keep up that tradition, well--I suppose I could try. That is, if you don't mind, Zechs."  
  
Zechs stared at him a moment, then grinned. "Not at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh! Total sap, I know! I never intended to go the whole "Christmas" route. It just worked out that way, time-wise. Sorry. Blech! Back to good honest lemons, lust, and angst soon, I promise!


	97. Spin the Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

It must have been the pot. Or the embarrassing outfit. Or maybe some sort of weird drug interaction between all that and his medications. Wufei wasn't sure what had made him volunteer for the silly game, but once he'd blurted out the offer to play and seen the delighted-and amusingly surprised-reactions of the others, there was no taking it back. Feeling like a man who'd just jumped off a bridge with no view of the bottom, much less a net, he joined them in a circle on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. He was still in a weakened condition, and had already been out of bed too long, but Zechs settled him between his long legs, letting Wufei lean back on him.   
  
It was probably thanks to the pot that he wasn't excruciatingly uncomfortable sitting there in his lover's arms among his friends, all in little more than glorified underwear. Or maybe it was because the others were clearly so genuinely glad to have him there; that had swept away the last of his residual shame and regret over past events. He'd been caught up in that for too long, losing the sense of mindfulness he'd worked so hard to learn as a young student. The past could not be changed. The future remained a mystery. In the here and now he was loved and wanted.   
  
It also felt very good, having Zechs's two strong arms around him again. The new one was very realistic, with warm, smooth skin that felt very close to the real thing.   
  
All the same, it was a strange experience so far, and he watched with some trepidation as Trowa finished off the contents of a large bottle of beer and placed the empty in the middle of the circle.   
  
"OK, here are the rules," Duo announced for his benefit. "You spin the bottle and you have to kiss whoever it's pointing at when it stops. And it has to be a good kiss, too, on the lips, not just a peck on the cheek." For some reason he shot Heero a wry look as he said this. "Whaddya say, guys? Hands OK, but no groping below the belt?"  
  
Quatre let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, all right, but tongues allowed, right?"  
  
"Well yeah!" Duo agreed.   
  
Wufei's eyes widened. This was more involved than he'd imagined. More--intimate. The kind of kissing he'd been planning definitely fell more into the 'peck on the cheek' category Duo had just outlawed. He stole a nervous look over his shoulder at Zechs.   
  
"Are you too tired for this, mei?" Zechs murmured, reading him like a book and offering him a graceful out.   
  
"No," Wufei said a little too quickly. Zechs thought he couldn't do this! The others were stealing looks at him, too, expecting him to back out. Suddenly it seemed like a matter of personal honor to stay. He'd show them, no matter how distasteful things got.  
  
"Who goes first?" asked Zechs.  
  
"Go for it, Blondie," Trowa offered.  
  
Zechs shifted Wufei a little as he reached for the bottle and gave it a good hard spin. It rotated rapidly on the tile floor, coming to rest at last pointing at Quatre, who happened to be sitting beside him.   
  
"Ooooh, blond on blond action. This is gonna be hot!" Duo chuckled.   
  
With one arm still around Wufei, Zechs leaned over and embraced Quatre with the other, giving the smaller blond a firm kiss on the lips.   
  
Forced to watch at close range, Wufei heard Quatre's soft sound of pleased surprise. He wondered if he was going to regret going along with this.  
  
Quatre sat back and gave Zechs a happy grin. "Nice. Plain, but nice."  
  
"We get rated on performance? You didn't tell me that part!" Zechs objected.  
  
"Too late! My turn!" Quatre gave the bottle an enthusiastic spin and it came to rest pointing at Heero who was sitting across from him. Without the slightest hesitation, he crawled across and climbed right into Heero's lap, straddling him and wrapping his bare legs around Heero's hips. Then, burying both hands in Heero's dark hair, he gave him a long, moaning kiss with what looked like significant use of tongue on both sides. They both had their eyes closed and Heero's hands slipped under the back of Quatre's black shirt, disappearing all the way to the elbows and doing something that made Quatre squirm and chuckle. The tattoos on his shoulders rippled over the lean muscle there. Quatre was small, but the circus acts kept him in top form.  
  
"All right! That's the way you do it!" Duo laughed, apparently not offended in the least at this aggressive interaction. Neither did Trowa, who appeared to be proud of his lover's exhibition. No one even looked surprised. Wufei's gut tightened. No, he hadn't bargained for this at all!  
  
When Quatre had unwrapped himself and returned to his place, Heero spun the bottle and got Trowa. He moved over and pulled him up onto his knees, body pressed to Heero's. Then, holding him close with one arm and getting a rather rough grip in his Trowa's hair with the other, he pulled the other man's head sideways, exposing his long neck. It was a very long, muscular and attractive neck, Wufei couldn't help noting. And those tight, scanty shirts certainly showed off how exceptionally well toned the two of them were. The bands of tattoo encircling Trowa's biceps rippled sensuously as he braced his hands against Heero's sides, fingers clenched against the muscle there. Wufei was beginning to appreciate tattoos.  
  
With deliberate slowness, Heero bit his way up the side of the Trowa's throat, leaving a trail of red marks in his wake. Trowa gasped and his hands clenched where they'd come to rest, just at Heero's waist. When Heero reached the corner of Trowa's jaw he licked his way to his mouth and devoured it, still holding him by the hair. When he was done Trowa more or less collapsed back into his place, his face flushed and pink.   
  
"You slobbered all over me, Yuy," he growled, wiping his face on his arm. He sounded annoyed, but his eyes told a different story, and the notable bulge in the front of his shorts. The legs were cut full and hung loose on Trowa's slender thighs. The way he was sitting gave Wufei a flash of tight, darkly flushed scrotum.   
  
Wufei looked away hastily, only to find himself momentarily at eye level with the evidence of Heero's arousal as he reclaimed his place in the circle. Another unanticipated aspect of the game. The room seemed rather stuffy now.  
  
Trowa recovered and sent the bottle spinning. It came to rest with the neck pointing squarely at Wufei.   
  
"Hey, how do we tell if it's Zechs or Wufei? They're right on top of each other," Duo noted.   
  
"We'll alternate," Trowa said, those dilated green eyes already fixed on Wufei. "It's 05's turn."  
  
He approached slowly on all fours, supple as a panther. Wufei felt like he was about to be pounced on, like prey. Trowa was the most darkly sexual of them all, exuding a potent aura of danger and lust when he chose. He reined it in now, however, as he closed in on Wufei and knelt between his outstretched legs. Instead of pouncing, he cradled Wufei's head gently between those big, callused hands and drank his lips like a man savoring a fine wine.   
  
It was a tame kiss, compared to the last two, but the warmth of Trowa's hands and the silky caress of his tongue over Wufei's closed lips sent a sensual jolt through his body, straight to his groin. He was still too medicated to get fully aroused, but it was unmistakable.  
  
"Congratulations, 03," Zechs said, a chuckle rumbling against Wufei's back. "I believe you have the distinction of being the only other man ever to kiss my Wufei."  
  
Trowa pulled back slowly from the kiss, still cradling Wufei's head. He gave him a warm, lazy smile, and kissed him on the forehead. "I'm honored." Those warm hands slid slowly away, down Wufei's neck and over his shoulders through the thin fabric of the robe. The caress left his body tingling. He stole a guilty look at Quatre, but the other boy's eyes were sparkling with amusement.   
  
"Good, isn't he?" he asked proudly.  
  
"Umm, yes," Wufei managed, and felt Zechs chuckle again.  
  
Duo laughed, lighting up another blunt. "C'mon, Wu. Your turn! Time to lose your cherry."  
  
Wufei colored at the coarse joke, but gamely leaned over and sent the beer bottle spinning end for end.   
  
He got Duo, and found he was not displeased at the outcome.   
  
"Guess I'm gonna have to come over there, huh?" Duo knee walked over to him and bent over, as if he planned to steal a quick kiss and retreat.   
  
It was a silly game, but a game all the same, and Wufei was nothing if not competitive. Now that he'd seen how it was played, he set out to excel. He caught Duo by the hand and drew him down to settle between his legs. Duo was taller than he was, all arms and legs, but Wufei captured him in his arms and gently cupped that pointed chin, tilting that lush, overly talkative mouth up to his and silencing him with a nip to that pink lower lip, which he immediately soothed with his tongue. He'd learned a great deal of technique from Zechs and it worked now. Duo made an approving sound deep in his chest, then wrapped his arms around Wufei and opened his lips, letting him in. Letting himself react rather than think, Wufei deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue over Duo's, tasting beer and smoke and a not unpleasant hint of Chinese spices from dinner. It was interesting, rather nice. He explored further, taking in the delicate ridges of Duo's palate and the ivory smoothness of his teeth. What would Sally think, he wondered. He'd never kissed her like this, not even when they were making love.   
  
Duo's eyes had fluttered shut during the kiss. He sighed as Wufei released him and gave him a dazed look. "Wow! You sure you haven't played this game before?"  
  
"Certain."  
  
Duo reluctantly rolled out of his arms and wiggled back to his spot. "OK, let's see if I can top that!"  
  
His spin came to rest pointing right back at Wufei.  
  
"Zechs's turn," Trowa announced.  
  
"I'm gonna have sore knees," Duo groused, but his eyes were shining with anticipation as he crawled back and knelt beside Zechs. "Man, I've always wanted to do this!"   
  
He buried his fingers in Zechs thick platinum hair, running his fingers through it in slow, sensual caresses as he covered Zech's mouth and face with light, teasing butterfly kisses, then zeroed in on his lips, claiming them with deceptive gentleness. Wufei leaned away to give him room, but still felt the sudden jut of his lover's erection against his back. Under most circumstanced Wufei would have been upset, but he was still tingling from Trowa's kiss and Duo's, so he was in no position to complain.   
  
Duo sat back, trailing his fingers through Zechs's hair one last time. "Mmm mmm mmmmm! Hey Heero, I think I'm starting to understand your thing for my hair."  
  
"My turn again," said Zechs. He spun and got Heero. "Let's see if I can make a better showing this time. If you'll excuse me a moment, my love?"  
  
He gently released Wufei, stood up an walked over to Heero, who was watching him with his usual guarded expression. The wariness increased as Zechs extended a hand and pulled him to his feet.   
  
"In honor of our first meeting," Zech murmured, then put his arms around Heero and whirled him off balance into a deep dip. One hand cradled Heero's head, the other under his back held him arched up against Zechs. Heero started to struggle, then froze as Zechs captured his mouth and took it rather forcefully. Heero remained still, one foot awkwardly off the floor, one hand braced against Zechs's shoulder, but Wufei saw a tremor run through him.   
  
"I think this duel goes to Zechs," Quatre said, grinning.   
  
Heero was blushing from chest to hairline when Zechs set him back on his feet. "That--that was good."  
  
"Thank you." Zech was grinning as he sat down with Wufei again.  
  
Heero's spin came back to Wufei. He came over with that same impassive look, but Wufei caught a glint of something in those bottomless dark blue eyes as Heero knelt in front of him and reached hesitantly for the tie holding Wufei's hair back. "May I?"  
  
"I suppose," Wufei replied, and felt a flutter of odd excitement as Heero gently pulled it loose and ran his fingers through Wufei's hair.   
  
  
"Hey, I thought it was only my hair!" Duo objected. Heero ignored him, concentrating instead on taking Wufei's breath away as he ran his fingers through his hair again, then cradled the back of his head and slipped his tongue into Wufei's mouth.  
  
It was a direct, to the point sort of kiss, such as one might expect from Yuy, but his lips and hands were amazingly skilled at giving pleasure. Wufei felt that strong tingle overwhelm him again as he thought, "This is 01 kissing you!" Heero, whom he'd admired so during the war. Had some part of that admiration been attraction? It seemed possible, given the effect this kiss was having. He was mortified to hear himself let out a faint whimper when Heero broke away at last.   
  
"Hey, you may have been the first, Barton, but you didn't get Wufei to blush like that!" Duo gloated.  
  
Mortified to have been caught out like this, Wufei sank back against Zechs and covered his face.   
  
"It's all right mei," Zechs whispered. "He is very virile, isn't he?"  
  
Wufei took a deep breath to calm himself. "When--how does this game end?"  
  
Duo exchanged a look with Quatre. "What do you say? Once everyone has kissed everyone else at least once?"  
  
"Sounds good to me."  
  
And so it continued for nearly an hour more, with many repeats. Wufei got to kiss Quatre several times, and found him spicy and yielding, just as he'd guessed he would be. As their lips met the first time he felt a rush of friendly acceptance and wondered if this was something to do with Quatre's empathy. It left him smiling and on impulse he gave him a second light, friendly kiss in parting.   
  
He got to kiss Duo twice more, but Heero and Trowa only once. That was probably just as well, since those two had a most disconcerting effect on him. Perhaps it was because they were the most like Zechs, powerful and dominant.  
  
His last kiss of the night, however, came from Zechs and that one wiped out the effects of all the others. It lasted a very long time, during which the whole world seemed to dim and slip away, leaving him aware of nothing but his lover's scent and warmth and strength. As he came back to earth, he realized the others were laughing.  
  
"What?" he demanded indignantly.  
  
"Don't worry, Wufei, we're just happy for you, that's all," laughed Quatre.  
  
When Wufei remained confused, Heero smiled and said quietly, "Zechs is the only one who made your toes curl."  
  
By the time the game was over, Wufei was reaching the end of his limited strength and it showed. They all shared a parting beer, then Zechs lifted him into his chair again and wheeled him back to their room, with the others with them, carrying their gifts. They waited while Zechs tucked him into bed to say their good byes.  
  
"Thank you. Thank you all," Wufei told them, looking around at them with new eyes. They were drunk and a bit high, of course, and so was he, but he saw a new beauty in all of them, and it wasn't because of the silly game. They had stayed here for his sake, and to be together. They accepted him and felt he belonged with them still. He blinked back tears again as they hugged him and shook hands. Quatre and Duo both kissed him on the cheek, but that seemed only natural now. It was just their nature, their way of showing real affection.  
  
Heero didn't kiss him, but held his hand a moment, looking down at him with evident concern. "We're leaving early tomorrow. We won't see you again for a while." He paused and a hint of color crept into his cheeks. "It--it has been good, getting to know you better, as we are now. You are a good friend."  
  
Overcome, Wufei squeezed that strong hand as best he could. "So are you, Heero Yuy. And all of you. I won't ever forget this."  
  
"You better not," said Duo. "It's your turn to pick the theme next year."  
  
"It will not be 'nudity', or anything like it," Wufei warned.  
  
Duo just grinned and shrugged. "I've got a whole year to convince you." He turned and grabbed Zechs in a hug. "Take care of him for us. We expect you two to come tear up New Orleans with us real soon."  
  
"We're looking forward to it," Zechs replied, planting a kiss on the top of Duo's head. "And I look forward to seeing which side of the bed you end up on, too."  
  
Duo sputtered comically as Zechs bid the others good-bye, and waved and winked at Wufei as Heero wrestled him from the room.   
  
And it was over. They were gone and Wufei was alone with Zechs with the snow falling softly outside the window.   
  
Zechs bent over the bed and kissed him. "Happy Christmas, my love, and Happy Earth Fall eve. Did you have a good time?"  
  
"Yes, very good. Did I do all right with the game?"  
  
"Brilliantly, mei," Zechs chuckled. "I must admit, it was rather sexy, watching you with those other boys. Did you enjoy it?"  
  
Wufei shrugged. "It was interesting, but Heero is right about my toes. They curl only for you. What about you?"  
  
"It's in my nature to enjoy such games, and they are all very lovely and delicious boys, but none of them compare to you. And none of them kiss half as sweetly as you, either."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Zechs sat down by the bed and took his hand, looking concerned now. "Mei, were you jealous? I promise you, there is no reason--"  
  
"No, strangely enough, I wasn't. As you said, it was somehow erotic, watching you kiss them like that, right in front of me. And I know it didn't mean anything more than a game. But it was a sort of bonding ritual, too. A good one, I think."  
  
"You look very nice in the chosen outfit."  
  
Wufei blushed a little. "It's a bit--revealing for my taste, I'm afraid. The shorts are a bit loose."  
  
"Ah yes, I was gifted with a few visions myself," Zechs laughed.   
  
"I saw Trowa's balls," Wufei admitted, laughing in spite of himself. "They're very dark."  
  
"Alas, I missed that spectacle. But Heero's are very large. Maxwell's, as well, and quite pink. And Quatre's penis is the smallest of the group, and the color of pink rose petals, just like yours."  
  
Wufei stared up at him, wide eyed. "I saw Trowa's by mistake. You were looking!"  
  
Zechs shrugged and kissed him again. "I'm a guy. Guy's look. And don't think the others weren't doing the same, especially Trowa and Duo."  
  
"They've already seen us naked," Wufei reminded him, recalling that disastrous night in New Orleans.  
  
"True, but they seemed to want another look. As I said, guys look. Perhaps they're a little envious? After all, now they know that your lover has the largest cock in the group."  
  
"And my difficulties related to that fact. Oh, that reminds me, I have a few more gifts for you." Wufei could feel himself blushing again, but pressed on. This seemed to be the right moment. "They're under the bed."  
  
Zech raised a questioning brow at him, then bent and pulled out the three small boxes hidden there.   
  
The first contained two bottles of lubricant. "I was already pondering our 'problem'," Wufei explained sheepishly. "That one there is made especially for anal sex, and contains an extract of clove oil, which is said to lessen the pain of entry."  
  
"I see. And this one? 'Specially formulated for maximum self pleasure'?"  
  
"Because of my recovery. We can't--well I can't do much of what I really want to for you for a while, so I thought--well, I don't expect you to not need to--" His face was flaming now. "I thought this might help."  
  
"Very thoughtful of you, mei. But where did you learn of such things?"  
  
Wufei bit his lip in embarrassment before he answered. "Quatre gave me a catalogue."  
  
"Did he? Why doesn't that surprise me. Well now, I can't wait to see what else you've found."  
  
The next one contained expensive professional massage oil scented with sandalwood. "When I'm feeling stronger, I thought it might help, if I could touch you that way."  
  
Zechs opened it and sniffed appreciatively. "Very nice! And so thoughtful. There's plenty here for mutual rubs, too. The doctor did give us the go ahead for affectionate touching. He feels it will be very therapeutic for you. We just have to avoid anything too rambunctious."  
  
"Thank you. I was too embarassed to ask about that. I will enjoy that. Now, open the last one."  
  
It was the largest of the three boxes and Wufei held his breath as Zechs smiled and tore away the paper. He opened it and pulled back the silver and black tissue paper, the blinked in surprise at what lay inside. "Butt plugs?"  
  
Wufei nodded, unable to name them out loud. "Those are--well, they're for me. I thought, while I'm recovering, that you could help me--help me be more ready for you, next time. We start with that small one, and then work up to--"  
  
Zechs picked up the largest one and studied it a moment. "Hmm. Was it so bad for you, last time? You should have said something, little love."  
  
"No! Not really, but it was rather difficult, for you I mean, having to be so careful and go so slowly. I'd just like to make it easier for both of us. I'd like--" Wufei paused again, wishing the color of his cheeks was something he could control. "I thought it would be good if it could be less controlled. Less careful."  
  
Zechs grinned. "You want to be pounded through the mattress, in other words. My my, what a conversation you must have had with little Quatre! I assume he's faced the same dilemma with his lusty lover? Trowa is very well endowed, too, as I recall."  
  
"'A shower and a grower'," Wufei murmured.  
  
Zechs laughed outright at that. "I think my innocent lotus blossom as been corrupted!"  
  
"It's just something Quatre said, about him. I remembered it because it applies to you, as well. Right now, in fact. You've been growing since the game."  
  
Zechs regarded the tented front of his boxers ruefully. "Well, it has been a while. I'm afraid I may have to excuse myself and try out this special lube you've so thoughtfully provided."  
  
"Excuse yourself? But I thought--" Wufei let his voice drop to what he hoped was a seductive register. "I hoped you'd let me watch."  
  
"But you're so tired. I don't want to push you too hard, not so soon."  
  
"I'm fine," Wufei insisted, unable to take his eyes away from that silk covered bulge. His own body wasn't up to responding fully, but he still could enjoy this. "Please. Lock the door and draw the shades. Then you can sit there, in that chair where I can see you. I'll just watch. I just want to watch you."  
  
As he'd hoped, Zechs took very little convincing. Wufei knew his lover's needs; days without any sort of sex at all must have been excruciating. Unless--"Zechs, have you been taking care of this on your own, all this time?"  
  
Zechs locked the door and pulled the shades. "I was too worried about you to even think of it at first. All I cared about was to see you open your beautiful eyes again. But I must admit, these past few days, I have occasionally taken matters in hand, as it were."  
  
Wufei grinned and curled up on his side, facing the chair. "I've never seen you do that. Show me."  
  
Zechs stood a moment, hands on his hips, shaking his head. "What a naughty little love you're turning out to be! Kissing other boys. Demanding sexual performances." He paused and his eyes darkened. "Running around in fire fights without a vest. When you're feeling better, you and I are going to have a 'talk' about that."  
  
"I see." Wufei shivered unaccountably at that. "But for now, please, let me watch?"  
  
Zechs gave him a sultry smile and peeled the tight black shirt off over his head with a languorous motion. "How can I deny you anything, when you blush so prettily asking?"  
  
With that he let the boxers fall, leaving him wearing nothing but the cock ring with the hearts on it. Silly as it seemed, Wufei loved the way it held his lover's heavy balls forward under the long, fully erect shaft. If anything, it made him look bigger than ever and Wufei marveled again that something of that size had actually been inside him. Clear fluid was welling up from the tip already and Wufei licked his lips. "I want that. I want to taste you."  
  
"Mei, you promised you'd lay still."  
  
"I will! Just--please, just come over here for a moment. It's been a long time for me, too."  
  
Zechs relented and came to the bedside. The bed was just the right height; all Wufei had to do was lean forward a little as Zechs guided the tip of his cock to his lips. Wufei lapped delicately at the viscous droplet, savoring the musky salt taste of it. He mouthed the tip for a moment, then kissed his way down the shaft to nuzzle those irresistible balls, so wonderfully presented. "I like this cock ring very much. I shall have to buy more of them for you."  
  
Zechs gasped happily. "When you are better, my love, I will show you how good they can make you feel. But that's enough now. You're getting pale again."  
  
Wufei was feeling dizzy. He settled down and watched as Zechs settled in the chair with the bottle of lubricant and spread his long, pale thighs so Wufei could see everything.   
  
"I'm going to touch myself now, mei, and I'm going to imagine that it's you doing it." He flipped the plastic cap open and slowly poured a stream of liquid into the palm of his left hand. Still looking at Wufei, he warmed it between his palms, then used both hands to slowly stroke the slick over his long, thick shaft. Almost at once his lips parted and his breath came in faint, shallow pants. His eyelids dropped, hooding those intense blue eyes, but not before Wufei had read the intense arousal there. Zechs was enjoying this, touching himself with Wufei watching. Wufei smiled to himself. It would be nice if his own body would cooperate, but this was very hot anyway.   
  
"That looks good," he breathed. "You are so beautiful, my Zechs, my emperor."  
  
Zechs let out a deep groan and let his head fall back against the chair. His long pale hair fanned out around his shoulders, framing the deepening pink spreading over his chest and face.   
  
"Oh yes, that's right," Wufei whispered. "Touch yourself for me, my love. Let me see you do it."  
  
"Ah god!" Zechs gasped. He threw one long leg over the padded armrest of the chair, exposing himself completely, and abandoned himself to pleasuring himself in earnest.   
  
Abandonment was a good word for it, Wufei thought, watching in mingled lust and awe as Zechs smoothly pumped one fist up down the shaft, while using the other to palm the dark, swollen head. Wufei had guessed right about his state of arousal. And he marveled as always at how totally at ease with it Zechs was, so natural and uninhibited. He'd never been held back by shyness or shame. He reveled in his own body and Wufei felt himself carried away at the sight.   
  
"I wish I was kneeling between your legs right now," he told him, his voice a caress. "I love the way your balls look, all gathered up like that. I want to lick them, taste them, feel their weight against my face."  
  
"Ahhhh!" Zechs arched back in the chair, pumping his hips now, and cradling and squeezing his balls for Wufei. His nipples were hard little points and a sheen of sweat glistened across his broad, smooth chest. Spread out as he was, Wufei could see his opening clearly for the first time, like a tiny pink star winking between those creamy, muscular cheeks. He'd never touched Zechs there. It had never occurred to him to want to, but now, seeing it exposed like this, he wondered if Zechs would like it if he did. He wondered if Zechs had ever let anyone fuck him? It was hard to imagine and Wufei pushed the thought away. Still, Pandora's box had been opened, as it were, and curiosity nagged at him.   
  
"Zechs, you look like the god of sex that way," he murmured, cupping his own limp genitals through the silk boxers and stroking them. "I can see your opening when you spread yourself like that."  
  
"Ah! Oh, Wufei! So--so good!" Zech panted, almost writhing now.   
  
"Do--do you like being touched there?"  
  
In answer, Zechs reached down and circled his opening with oiled fingers, rubbing it and stroking up the engorged ridge of his perineum.   
  
"Oh yes. God, yes! Touch yourself like that! Show me what you enjoy."  
  
"Nuuh! Ah! Ah! Ah!" Zechs was shaking now, and Wufei began to fear for what the nurses would hear down at the station. Aroused as Zechs was, though, he handled himself with great control, just as he did Wufei when they were making love together.   
  
"Oh god, Wufei. My love-- Beautiful--oh fuck! I'm going to--going to--"  
  
"Come for me, my emperor," Wufei urged. "Show me."  
  
Zechs arched back further, panting hoarsely, then fumbled at the snap on the cock ring, releasing it and letting it fall away. Then he stroked his way down his shaft and balls and thrust one finger into his opening as he continued to pump his erection. Thrusting gave way to violent trembling, and with a strangled cry he came, shooting thick white spurts of semen across his chest and belly. He abandoned his ass and cupped his balls, squeezing and pulling at them in what seemed a painful fashion, but the look on his face as the final spurts shot out was pure rapture. He hung there a moment, lost in orgasm, slowly stroking his cock, and then went limp in the chair, eyes closed, gasping for air and grinning.  
  
"Are you all right?"   
  
"Mmmph. Mmmm. Yeeeeesssss," Zechs managed, apparently unable to move. "Oh mei! You wicked little-you're so--love you."  
  
"I love you. You looked so--amazing! I want to see that again sometime soon!"  
  
"As much as you want," Zechs sighed, opening his eyes at last and gazing fondly at him. "You are a fantastic lover, my darling, even when we're not touching. Did you really enjoy that?"  
  
"Yes, very much!"  
  
"Kinky little minx!" Zechs slowly gathered himself and wobbled to his feet, heading for the bathroom.   
  
"Wait!" Wufei blurted out. "A taste, please? Before you wash it all away?"  
  
Zechs gave him that lazy, sexy smile again and walked unsteadily over to the bed. Bracing himself on the bedrail, he ran a finger through the cum on his chest and held it down to Wufei.   
  
Wufei took it into his mouth and sucked it clean, savoring the flavor. "Mmmm. My favorite flavor in the world. I want to get better very soon."  
  
Zechs gave him a second taste, then kissed him on the forehead. "You are a very, very bad boy, and I'm a lucky bastard. I'm going to go clean up now, and then I'm going to stagger back here and hold you and kiss you until you go to sleep."  
  
"What makes you think that will make me sleep?" Wufei scoffed, but in truth, he was completely worn out now. His eyelids already felt heavy. He tried hard to stay awake for Zechs's return, but the sound of the shower and the hiss of snow against the windows lulled him to sleep. Sometime later he was vaguely aware of warm, strong arms around him and lips pressed to his. He kissed him back sleepily and heard Zechs whisper, "A very good Earth Fall Day, indeed."   
  
+  
  
Duo was thinking the same thing as he cuddled with Heero and the others in the cab on the way to the hotel. He was happy and horny and high, and more than ready to reestablish Heero's sexual dominance.   
  
"I want you to fuck me so goooood tonight, baby!" he whispered in Heero's ear, following the words with the tip of his tongue.  
  
Heero grinned and tightened his arm around Duo's waist. "Copy that, 02. Want me to tie you down first?"  
  
"There you go, spoiling me rotten again!"  
  
"Can you two at least wait until we get to the hotel," Quatre chuckled.   
  
Their bags had already been delivered to the hotel, thanks to Trowa's foresight. After the party, the four of them had thrown on jeans, shirts and coat over their "party wear" and piled into a cab with only one back seat. Now they were packed together, Quatre almost in Duo's lap. Trowa was more stoned than anyone, and was using his long reach to fondle everyone's hair. Eyes closed, head thrown back against the seat, he was grinning and murmuring, "Bello bello bello!"  
  
"Hey Kat, I hope your man's not too far gone to get it up for you," said Duo.   
  
Quatre, who was also feeling no pain, answered by grabbing Duo's hand and placing it on Trowa's crotch.  
  
"Ciao bello!" Trowa rumbled without opening his eyes.  
  
"Nope, he's good to go," Duo admitted. "How 'bout you, baby?"   
  
He reached for the front of Heero's jeans but he caught Duo's hand and kissed it instead. "All systems go. But let's not embarrass our driver, OK? This is Japan, after all, not New Orleans."  
  
"Mmph!" Duo nuzzled his way back under Heero's chin.   
  
At the hotel they managed to behave themselves long enough to get into the elevator. There were no other riders and Trowa immediately pulled Quatre against him, gripping his husband's ass with both hands as he kissed him with almost savage intensity.   
  
Heero leaned back against the wall and pulled Duo back against him, then mouthed his neck and caressed his nipples to make him squirm. "Yeah, just like that," he growled as Duo ground his ass against Heero's erection. "Gonna take you, little mermaid. Do you want it hard and fast, or slow and sweet?"  
  
"Fuck, Heero, you're gonna make me come!" Trowa gasped, still dry humping Quatre.  
  
Duo was too turned on to comment.  
  
Their room was on the eighty-first floor. Trowa swiped the key card with a flourish and threw open the door. "Right this way, my beauties. One big bed for cuddling, as requested."  
  
The others stood gaping at the opulent room. It was tastefully appointed in modern browns and tans, and the focal point was an immense bed.   
  
"That is a very fucking big bed," Duo agreed, gazing at it in stoned awe.  
  
"Very big," Heero said, looking around, "and the only one."  
  
Trowa sobered a bit. "Huh? No, that can't be right. I told them a suite, two rooms, two beds, with at least one really big one."  
  
"How good was their English?" asked Quatre. "There's your other bed."  
  
A narrow roll away cot stood against the wall by the door. There was no second room, no other big bed.  
  
"Maybe in Japan this is a suite?" Duo offered.  
  
"Fuck. Fuck!" Trowa growled. "Now what?"  
  
They all stood there, at a loss but still horny as hell.  
  
"Well," said Quatre at last. "That _is_ one really big bed, isn't it?"


	98. A Very Big Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero stared at Quatre for a moment, apparently trying to get his drug and alcohol fuzzed brain around what he seemed to be suggesting. "Huh?"  
  
Quatre giggled, leaning heavily against Trowa. His leg was much better but he'd been on it too much today and the dull ache was leaching through his buzz. "I said, that's a really big bed. Plenty of room. For--whatever."   
  
Trowa was staring at him, too, and so was Duo. Quatre wasn't so stoned that he didn't pick up on the wild blend of lust and confusion pulsing through the others. They wanted this, whatever "this" was, but they just didn't dare admit it. Well, he was stoned and fucking horney from the spin the bottle game and his leg was hurting like a bitch now and damn it, he was going to bed!   
  
He shrugged at the others and limped over to the bed, shedding clothing on the way. By the time he reached the edge of the mattress he was bare from the waist up and had his pants and silk boxers down around his ankles. He shuffled the last few inches, got tangled in his pants and shoes, and tumbled face first onto the bed, giggling again. Looking back over his shoulder at Trowa, he purred, "Come and get it."  
  
Trowa laughed and came to rescue him from the tangle around his ankles. Freeing Quatre's feet, he scooped him up and shifted him further onto the bed, then stripped and joined him. Still careful of the newly healed skin on Quatre's back, he pinned him on his belly and kissed his way up the backs of Quatre's thighs to the rounded pink flesh of his ass.  
  
"Mmmmmm, yeah!" Quatre sighed. This was a good start for "this." He could already feel Heero's dark, pulsing libido perking up from across the room, and Duo wasn't far behind.  
  
"Hold on a moment, meu pequinos," Trowa murmured. He rolled off the bed and went to the pile of luggage by the bathroom door. Quatre watched him affectionately, loving the way that big erection bobbed against Trowa's belly when he paraded around nude like this. Trowa never had any compunction about showing skin. Quatre doubted it even occurred to him to care what anyone else might think. He'd have performed naked in Circus della Notte if he thought he could get away with it.  
  
Pulling out the small special suitcase they'd packed together, Trowa thumbed the combination lock and opened it to reveal their carefully wrapped collection of candles, cuffs, bottles of lube and other traveling sex accoutrements.   
  
He tossed a couple of bottles of slick and a box of expensive condoms to Heero, set out half a dozen thick pillar candles around the room and lit them, then turned out the lights. He'd positioned them in such a way that the rest of the large room was lost in darkness. Only the bed area was illuminated. He went back to the case and returned with a couple sets of fleece-lined cuffs and some coiled rope. "I brought this for putting Heero to bed but we can probably find some other uses for it, beforehand," he said with a smirk.  
  
He buckled a pair of cuffs around Quatre's wrists, and then secured them together behind his back with a metal snap ring. Quatre felt another pulse of interest from the pair still frozen by the doorway.  
  
"Yum," Duo murmured, licking his lips at the bondage scene, just as Quatre had known he would. It had been a while since they'd hit any clubs of that sort together, but from what he'd heard from him and Heero, his tastes hadn't changed much since he'd been with Heero.   
  
Trowa heard Duo and gave Quatre a knowing wink, then knelt beside him, put a pillow under his hips to raise his ass, and began torturing him with kisses all over his back and legs and bottom. "Ti amo, pocco. Amo le vostre natiche dolci!"   
  
"Oh, Trowa! Amante grande!" Quatre gasped, trussed, helpless and utterly delighted with the situation.  
  
+  
  
Heero was the least stoned of any of them. He'd had enough to lower his inhibitions, but not so much that he wasn't aware of the way Duo was still wavering by the door. He was grinning as he watched Trowa maul Quatre, but he hadn't made a move toward the bed and he was still fully clothed.   
  
Heero pulled him close and whispered against his ear, "Whatever you want, little mermaid, it's fine with me. Maybe we can go get a different room-"  
  
Duo leaned against him and looked up. "I-" He looked back at the pair on the bed. Quatre's ass was higher in the air now, and Trowa was behind him, kissing his cheeks and stroking him between the legs, crooning to his lover in Italian.  
  
Duo shook his head a little, then slowly peeled off his coat and shirt. He looked at Heero again and grinned. "Big bed."  
  
"Rules?" Heero was already unbuttoning his own shirt and letting it fall.   
  
Duo thought about that a moment and shrugged. "Nobody fucks me but you."  
  
"And?"  
  
Duo kicked off his boots and let his pants and boxers fall. He was still wearing his cock ring and he was very hard. Heero saw the drop of clear precum welling from the slit. "And we see how it goes?" he replied, giving Heero a sultry look as he took him by the hand and led him to the far side of the bed. As soon as they reached it Duo gave him a shove, knocking him flat on his back and climbed up on top to kiss Heero's lights out.   
  
As Heero let his hands wander over Duo's back and ass, he was aware of his own lack of embarrassment. Although this was the first time the four of them had been naked together like this, and intimate with each other in the same room, it somehow felt familiar and comfortable, after all the lovemaking they'd done across the hall from each other with the doors open. Perhaps they'd been coming to this all along? The other two were beautiful, that was for sure. Heero loved the way they looked in the soft golden glow of the candles. Trowa was so lean and long, and his skin slid like tight silk over his muscles as he moved. The dark patterned bands around each bicep rippled in a way that made Heero want to reach over and touch them. As Trowa shifted, he also caught sight of the intricate band of color and darkness across his lower back. It was like-a beacon!  
  
Quatre was just as lovely as Heero had imagined, too. He'd noted earlier that 04 was wearing his facial piercing again, but saw now that he'd put the little metal bars back into his scrotum, too. That, and the tattoos on his shoulders and belly, made him look very different than the innocent little blond Heero had first met on Earth. In daylight he could still pull off that innocent look, but here, like this, he was the embodiment of sex.   
  
"Earth to Heero? Copy, 01?" Duo was laughing, but Heero thought he caught a little tension behind the joke.   
  
"I'm here, little mermaid, with you," he murmured, returning his full attention to the most beautiful man in the room. He rolled Duo on his back and found the hair tie, pulling it loose. Duo wrapped his arms and legs around Heero and rolled his hips against Heero's, letting him have no doubt how OK he was with this so far.  
  
"God, you are so beautiful!" Heero gasped out, kissing his way down Duo's long, graceful throat. "So fucking beautiful!"  
  
"Fuckably beautiful," Trowa laughed beside him. "Just like my little boy."  
  
They all stayed with that for a while, making out with their lovers and filling the room with their soft sighs and moans. Trowa had released the ring holding the cuffs together, freeing Quatre's hands. O4 was moaning softly with his eyes shut, but suddenly he turned his head and gave Heero a dazed, blissed out look, then stretched a hand out to him and Duo. The candlelight flickered in his wide blue eyes and on the worn steel rings on the cuff. "C'mere."  
  
They crawled across and joined the other two in the middle of the bed. Duo took Quatre's hand and was pulled down into a kiss. Heero hung back a little, watching. Quatre was passionate and willing. He opened his mouth eagerly to Duo and let him in.   
  
Heero's cock throbbed. It was hot, seeing the two of them like that. Then Duo glanced up, saw his expression, and murmured, "I think Tro's getting lonely, baby."  
  
Tearing his eyes away from the pair making out in front of him, he found Trowa still kneeling behind Quatre, but watching Heero with an almost feral gleam in his one visible eye. "Ciao, bello," Trowa purred, and licked his lips.  
  
"Ciao, bello." Heero leaned forward, meeting those lips, letting strong callused hands pull him in and down. Then he was on his back beside Quatre, with Trowa's long, hard body stretched out full length on his, their erections rubbing together and cock rings catching between them as Trowa arched against him. His tongue was hot and forceful as it probed between Heero's lips, and past his teeth to massage and tease Heero's tongue. Duo had rolled up on top of Quatre, still just inches away.   
  
Suddenly it seemed very important to establish some sort of connection. It was an easy matter to reach out and stroke Duo's ass with one hand, grasping Trowa's lean, muscular butt with the other.   
  
Still kissing Quatre, Duo buried his fingers in Heero's hair. Trowa moaned into Heero's mouth and rubbed against him again, all the while finding and clasping Quatre's hand where it rested on the bed between them. As if some circuit had been completed, with everyone touching everyone else, they were all suddenly tumbling and sliding over each other all over the bed, seeking mouths, stroking and clasping whatever warm flesh came close. At one point Heero managed to pin all three of the others down and crouched over them, going from mouth to mouth, tasting and licking, comparing the feel of each set of lips against his own. He found he could tell them apart with his eyes closed: Duo's mouth, wide and generous and lush, Quatre's smaller, plumper lips and pointed tongue, and Trowa, whose lips were thinner but just as seductive, especially the talented way they sucked on Heero's tongue.   
  
Another scramble of limbs, and the others pinned him down and proceeded to kiss him almost everywhere. It tickled and aroused him and for a few moments he couldn't tell whose mouth was where. It got even harder to do when Trowa produced a silk scarf from somewhere with his magician's skill and blindfolded him.   
  
Someone else, probably Quatre, took his hands and guided them behind Heero's head. "Keep them there, 01." Yes, that was Quatre, but Heero had never heard him sound quite like that before, his voice just as arousing as the lips kissing down the inside of his arm and the hand sliding down his bare chest to toy with his achingly hard nipples.   
  
Other hands grasped his ankles, gently pulling them apart, and Heero felt someone kneel between his spread legs. Hands massaged the insides of his thighs, stroking up not quite to his balls and down again. Strong hands massaged his feet, and a tongue flicked teasingly across his toes, sending waves of stronger arousal all over Heero's body. Then there was a shift. The hands left his feet and nipples as their owners moved to kneel on either side of him. Then six hands were stroking and caressing and teasing him all over.   
  
"Ah, god! That's so good," Heero gasped. It took all his will power to keep his hands locked behind his head, but he didn't want to give them any reason to stop.   
  
It was sweet torture, all those hands, and not one of them touching his cock. They came close, brushed over it, massaged along the base of it and behind his balls, and nails scraped along the leather and studs of the cock ring. Fingers even played through his pubic bush, and he heard Quatre giggle again and say, "Hey, he does trim down here! You owe me a dollar, Trowa." But not one finger offered any relief to his throbbing erection. The cock ring, still snug around the base and balls, only increased the delicious torment.  
  
There was a pause, a brief, whispered conversation, then he felt them all shift as one and then the unmistakable, unbelievable sensation of three tongues licking slowly up and down his shaft and balls.   
  
"Ahhhhh!" Heero shouted, automatically arching up for more. Strong hands and arms held him down on the bed, and those teasing mouths continued their work. Someone was sucking the tip, while someone else sucked his balls onto their mouth, and the third made circles with the tip of a tongue up and down the shaft in between. Heero could scarcely breath, it was so good. He couldn't tell who was doing what at this point, and decided he didn't really care. He was dimly aware of the tickle of Trowa's bangs and the silky weight of Duo's unraveling braid across his skin, but it was all lost in a muddle of overwhelming sensation.  
  
"Happy Earth Fall day, Heero," Quatre chuckled.   
  
Just when he thought he had to either come or lose his mind, it all stopped and someone pulled off the blindfold.  
  
Quatre was leaning over him, blue eyes incandescent with lust. "Not yet, 01. Everyone gets a turn."  
  
Duo was next. They tackled him down onto his back and Heero snugged the blindfold across his lover's eyes. Duo groped for his hand and pulled him close. "Remember my rule," he whispered, sounding a little nervous.   
  
"I will, I promise," Heero said, and kissed him. He found the extra cuffs and buckled them around Duo's wrists, securing them together with the locking ring. Duo shivered and licked his lips again, then stretched his bound hands over his head.  
  
Heero took his place between Duo's legs and caressed his thighs and belly, letting Duo know it was him. This time he got to watch as the other two worked their magic on Duo. Trowa rubbed his feet and sucked Duo's painted toes. Quatre lapped at Duo's tight pink nipples. Heero cupped Duo's balls and rolled them in their tight sack above the ring. Duo moaned and tossed his head, mouth open and slack with arousal.   
  
Heero turned and caught Trowa's attention. "Have another of those scarves?"  
  
Trowa leaned over the edge of the bed and handed him a long black one with silver stars on it. Heero wrapped it around Duo's already cuffed hands, then pulled them behind his head and tied the long ends of the scarf around his neck, securing them in place.   
  
"Oh baby, yeah!" Duo moaned, more turned on than ever. He writhed under Heero, trying to rub his cock on Heero's belly. Heero stayed just out of reach, settling back between his lover's long legs and teasing his balls again, as Trowa and Quatre teased his chest and feet with their mouths. Duo's whole body flushed a delicate pink and precum was dripping from the tip of his cock onto his belly. Heero leaned down and lapped it up, letting his cheek brush the tip.  
  
When Duo was panting and moaning even more loudly, Heero bent and licked the tip again. Trowa moved up beside him and leaned in, running his tongue over Duo's sac. On the other side, Quatre lapped up and down the shaft, swirling his tongue against the hard column of flesh. His tongue met Heero's as they both worked on Duo, and Heero thought he might come right then and there. He caught Quatre in a deep, probing kiss, and tasted Duo on Quatre's tongue. With a moan of his own, he released Quatre and took Duo down his throat, sucking and licking him just the way Duo liked.   
  
Trowa lifted his head from Duo's balls and began licking the base of his shaft above the ring, licking Heero's lips, too, every time he deep throated Duo. Duo was gasping incoherently by the time they stopped. Heero untied his hands and they all fell on Quatre, who was looking a bit delirious by now.   
  
"I can feel you all!" he gasped out, even before the others began touching him in earnest. "So good, making love together like-ah-oh yes!"   
  
Trowa took his place between Quatre's legs and Heero took over the foot rub position. Quatre was incredibly ticklish and tried to pull his feet away. Heero held him firmly by the ankles and licked slowly up the sole of each foot. Quatre's scream was muffled as Duo captured his mouth with his own, holding him down with one hand and tweaking his pink little nipples with the other. Meanwhile Trowa was on his knees, his ass in Heero's face as he sucked and licked Quatre's scrotum. Still holding Quatre's struggling legs and licking those sensitive feet, Heero was gifted with a beautiful view. Trowa's ass was spread for him, tight little opening fully exposed, and his large balls and long, thick erection were bobbing under his belly, still snugged up right by the leather strap. Risking a kick in the face, Heero managed to get a grip on both of Quatre's ankles with one hand, freeing the other to caress Trowa's ass and genitals. He felt 03 shuddering and shivering under his touch.   
  
//Does Trowa still want me to fuck him?// Heero wondered, entranced by the feel of that long, hot, hard cock in his hand and the sight of that brilliant, intricate tattoo across the small of Trowa's lean back.   
  
Quatre stopped struggling and broke the kiss with Duo. "Yes! God, that would be so hot right now!"  
  
Heero gave a guilty start and let go of both of them, then looked hastily to Duo. His lover's face was flushed, those violet eyes hot and hazed with lust as he held Quatre and stroked his friend's erection in a loose fist. Both of them were still wearing their leather bondage cuffs. Heero's cock twitched appreciatively at the sight.  
  
"You wanna fuck him, baby?" Duo purred. "Wanna fuck him while I watch?"  
  
Aroused as he was, Heero's drug and sex-addled brain sent up a flare of alarm. He stared at Duo in stunned amazement, wondering if he'd heard him right. "Do you want me to?"  
  
"Yeah, this time." Duo admitted, still caressing Quatre. "Special occasion, like I said. Do you want to?"  
  
"Yes," Heero said, "But-I want to watch you, too."  
  
Duo's lazy smile widened. With his free hand, he slowly finger combed the rest of the braid loose and shook out that magnificent auburn mane, letting it spread across Quatre's chest and belly. "If we do this," he said thickly, "then we do it all together.  
  
"Together. Yeah!" Quatre sighed, letting his head fall back against Duo's shoulder.   
  
"Together," Trowa agreed, kissing Quatre on the inside of each thigh and licking his balls.   
  
But Heero still hesitated, gazing into Duo's eyes, wanting to be sure before they took such a big step. "Are you sure, Duo?"  
  
Duo smiled again, and started helping Quatre up onto his knees. "Special occasion. Different rules." He positioned Quatre so he was kneeling, facing Trowa, with Duo behind him. He mouthed Quatre's neck and stroked his belly, teasingly close to his upright erection. "You sure about this, you guys?"  
  
"Do it!" Trowa moaned, leaning back into Heero's arms and offering his throat.   
  
"Rubbers and lube?" Heero managed, overwhelmed by the feeling of that long, sinewy body filling his arms.   
  
"Spit's good enough," Trowa gasped, grinding his ass against Heero's crotch. "Fuck me, 01!"  
  
Heero found the condom and put one on, and handed another to Duo. Then he took his time lubricating Trowa's tight hole. "Hands and knees, 03. I want you to suck Quatre while I do it."  
  
Trowa immediately complied, bracing himself on one hand and cupping Quatre's balls with the other as he took his husband's hard cock down his throat.   
  
"Oh yeah, like that!" Duo groaned. He rolled on his own rubber and slicked Quatre quickly. "I'm gonna fuck Kat now, Heero. Let me see you do Tro. Come on, baby, fuck him!"  
  
Trowa moaned encouragingly around Kat's cock and spread his legs wider. Heero slicked his cock and pressed the head to 03's opening.   
  
Trowa was surprisingly tight, almost as tight as Duo's the first time Heero had made love to him like this. It occurred to him that Quatre's cock was the only one that had ever stretched him here, and that his was somewhat smaller than Heero's. Afraid of hurting Trowa, Heero struggled to control the urge to just thrust into that tight heat, but Trowa let out a harsh, needy growl and forced himself back against Heero until he was in to the hilt, his belly pressed to Trowa's ass.   
  
"He likes it rough!" Quatre gasped, arching back in Duo's arms as Trowa moaned around his cock.   
  
"No rough stuff for you, though, kitten," Duo said, licking his way from Quatre's shoulder to his ear lobe and sucking it. "Nice and easy for you."  
  
Heero couldn't see Duo entering Quatre, but he watched their faces, reading the shared bliss there, and that was almost as good. Both of them were flushed and glistening with sweat as they in turn watched as Heero began a slow, deep pounding deeper into Trowa.   
  
Duo's hair fell around Quatre like a shining silk veil, and Heero gasped again, knowing first hand what the caress of that hair felt like when Duo fucked him up the ass like that, slow and steady. The memory of that, coupled with the hot grip of Trowa's ass around his own cock, was almost enough to make Heero come and he made himself go still for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths to regain control. This shouldn't be rushed, for Trowa's sake or anyone else's.   
  
He gripped Trowa's hips, tracing the edges of that pattern with his thumbs as he steadied him and began to thrust in harder. A collective moan went up from the others. Trowa braced himself, holding steady as he continued to deep throat Quatre.   
  
Heero felt the tightness of Trowa's body around him, and the hard, good feel of his body under his hands. His raw, natural smell and the musky cologne he favored filled Heero's head, driving him on. He was slamming into that tight body now, but his own orgasm was still held a bay as a plan struggled to take shape in the back of his overloaded brain.   
  
Trowa was trembling against him. Quatre was swaying and sighing in Duo's arms as Duo gently caressed and took him. His eyes were half closed now, and he had that distant, pleasure-laden look, but his gaze kept coming back to Heero.   
  
"Duo?"  
  
"Yeah, baby?"  
  
"Don't come."  
  
Duo's eyes widened a bit. "Huh?"  
  
"Don't come, 02. That's an order."  
  
"Oh! Oh god!" Quatre moaned. "Heero, you're going to-going to make me-"  
  
"Make 04 come, 03," Heero ordered, trying for his hard mission voice, though it was hard to pull off, turned on as he was.  
  
  
Trowa moaned around Quatre's cock as he bucked back hard on Heero's, still impaling him mercilessly from behind.   
  
"Take him sweetly, 02," Heero instructed, and saw Quatre arch back, mouth wide in a silent cry of ecstasy. "Secure his hands. Stroke him deeply. Caress his prostate with your cock, 02."  
  
Everyone was moaning now. Duo closed his eyes and caressed Quatre's chest and belly, then pinned Quatre's wrists against his chest as he rocked against him, following Heero's orders.   
  
Heero found he could lean forward over Trowa's back and reach them both. He pulled Quatre into a deep kiss, invading that soft, willing mouth, then held him close and found Duo's mouth, devouring him eagerly. He settled back, pleased with the effect it had clearly had on the others. He wondered what Quatre's empathy was doing with all this. Almost at once, Quatre opened his eyes and murmured, "Wild ride! Everyone's happy."  
  
"Swirl your tongue against his head, 03," Heero murmured, rotating his hips a bit to hit Trowa's prostate from a slightly different angle. Trowa cried out with his mouth full and his head bobbed faster on Quatre's shaft.   
  
"Heero!" Duo whined, panting with excitement.  
  
"Don't come, 02."  
  
"Oh god. Duo, Trowa----Heero, I'm gonna-gonna--!" Quatre's body began to shake, and then he was thrusting with his hips, caught between Trowa's mouth and Duo's cock. "Oh. my. GOD!"  
  
He came wildly, crying out. Trowa was making desperate sounds too, and swallowing noisily. Heero gripped him under the arms and pulled him back so he was sitting up in Heero's lap. This angle of penetration seemed to excite him even more; Heero could feel Trowa trembling on the edge of orgasm.

"02, disengage. 04. Suck your man off."  
  
With another desperate whine, Duo pulled out and crawled shakily over to drape himself around Heero. The mingled feeling of his hot body and cool, wild hair drove Heero dangerously close to coming again.  
  
Quatre slumped forward and began greedily sucking Trowa's erection. Heero watched in delight at how much of that big shaft 04 could manage. He must have had to practice a lot.  
  
"Oh fuck!" Trowa screamed, spasming. "OfuckofuckofuckoFUCK!" He came with a long, ragged cry, clutching Heero's hands and Quatre's hair and writhing between the cock and the mouth that were ravishing him. He hardly seemed to notice when Heero pulled his cock from his ass. He arched one last time into Quatre's mouth, then slumped sideways onto the bed. Quatre crawled into his arms and they wrapped around each other, panting and laughing and trying to find words. Trowa opened his eyes and found Heero. "Ti amo. Ti amo, bello-"  
  
Heero smiled back, then turned to Duo, who was still kneeling on the bed, a painful erection standing up hard and red between his thighs. "Your turn, 02. Lose the rubber."  
  
Duo grinned and stripped it off, letting it fall somewhere beyond the mattress. Heero did the same, then retrieved one of the scarves and slipped it thorugh the rings of the bondage cuffs Duo was wearing, securing his hands tightly together. He saw Duo's widen and the flush in his cheeks darken.   
  
"03, where's that rope?"  
  
"Oh, Heero, baby!" Duo moaned.  
  
Trowa rose unsteadily and retrieved the required article. It was good quality bondage rope, a soft nylon round weave that would hold a knot without locking dangerously, and hold a body without chafing. IT was long, too, long enough for Heero's purpose. He'd been doing some more online research.   
  
Finding the middle of the rope, he used that section to secure Duo's hands behind his neck again. Then, as Duo moaned appreciatively and the others looked on in mounting interest, Heero used the two long ends to bind and weave a pattern down Duo's body. When he was finished, Duo's torso was covered in a web of rope and his legs were securly bound, his knees spread wide and trussed close to his body, his completely exposed ass perfectly framed by a white network of ropes. His cock was still nicely exposed, too. Heero tested his handiwork by standing and lifting Duo's body by the improvised rope handle he'd fashioned just below his chest. Duos' body hung perfectly balanced, with no pulling, constriction, or pain.   
  
"Wow!" Quatre breathed.  
  
"I think I see a new act," Trowa murmured, testing the ropes and stroking Duo's hair. Duo was in a near trance state by now, following Heero trustingly with his eyes.  
  
Heero placed Duo so he was lying in Trowa's lap, with Quatre close beside him. "Touch him. Let him know you're with him," Heero instructed softly, then stretched out between Duo's legs. "Your turn, 02. We're going to make you come now."  
  
"Mmmmm, yeah!" Duo murmured, already blissed out.  
  
"And I'll be the one to fuck you, just as I promised."  
  
"Trust you, 01," Duo whispered, smiling with his eyes closed now. "Trust you all."  
  
While the others stroked and caressed Duo, Heero slowly, teasingly began to lick and suck at Duo's balls. They felt a bit cool, and fearing they'd been constricted too long by the cock ring, Heero unsnapped it and took it off. Duo hissed a little in pain, but Heero soothed the reddened skin where the leather had been with his tongue and lips and felt Duo shiver and relax again in his bonds. His erection had softened a little during the binding, but now it was back full force, hot and weeping.   
  
Now Heero could allow himself the luxury of lapping up the salty precum, smearing it around the head with his tongue and sucking it off. Duo was floating on bondage high and his responses were mostly smiles and faint sighs and moans, but Heero had learned how to read those. He teased him a little more, then took him suddenly down his throat and felt Duo jerk in his bindings.  
  
"Oh, yeah, that's-that's gooooooood," he moaned, probably referring both to the strict constriction of the rope and what Heero was doing to his cock.  
  
Heero worked him gently but firmly with his tongue and throat and felt Duo's reactions grow stronger. Quatre was working his nipples and Trowa had one hand in Duo's hair, stroking it back from his face, and the other rubbing his thighs. Heero guided his hand down to Duo's balls and had him cup them for him while he sucked harder at his cock. Precum was leaking out in a steady stream now. Heero checked Duo's breathing. He was looking a little tired. It was time.  
  
"I'm going to fuck you now, Duo," he said, kneeling between his thighs and touching the tip of his cock to Duo's opening. "O3, prepare him for me. Just the outside."  
  
He chose Trowa because in Duo's mind, Trowa was a top, just as Heero was. Looking back over the night's events so far, Heero realized he must truly be the top alpha male of the group, having finally fucked Trowa.  
  
Trowa understood the order and didn't slip a finger into Duo's ass. //Promise kept,// Heero thought with satisfaction. Slicking his own fingers, he worked them inside Duo, gently opening and stretching him while the others looked on.   
  
"Do it, baby," Duo urged softly. "Take me. Need you!"  
  
Duo had taken good care of him in the hospital. Heero had needed him on top, taking charge and giving comfort, but he knew that between them, Duo preferred to be the one taken. He'd been a top all his life, before Heero, but he'd been saving himself.   
  
"No one but you, baby," Duo crooned, as if reading his thoughts.  
  
"No one but me," Heero replied, and took Duo's cock in his hand, stroking it expertly as he pressed his length into that bound, hot, willing body. Duo still lay in Trowa's arms. Trowa was still caressing Duo's balls, and now he touched Heero's, as well. Quatre joined in, and Heero's reined in passion suddenly blazed at the feeling of three bodies touching his again. His cock was buried deep in Duo's heat and tightness, and hands were touching him everywhere, rubbing his balls, squeezing his ass, tickling up and down his chest and back.   
  
"Your turn, too, 01," Quatre told him. He kissed Heero deeply, and closed his hand over Heero's on Duo's cock.   
  
Duo's eyes were open again. He was moaning and laughing now, urging them on. "Harder baby. Show 'em how you do me!"  
  
"Jerk him off for me, 04," Heero ordered. He gripped Duo under the legs and pulled him in hard, fucking him with long, driving strokes. From the corner of his eye he saw the Trowa was erect again. "Change of plan. 03, take 04."  
  
Trowa carefully released Duo and pulled Quatre to him, taking him from behind as Quatre bent over Duo, still stroking his cock.  
  
It was too much for all of them. They came one after the other like a string of firecrackers, screaming and swearing and crying each other's names. Duo came so hard it hit Heero and Quatre both in the face and they laughed as they licked the salty cum from their lips. Heero's orgasm was the last to hit, and it blinded him for a moment with its electric intensity. He realized he was yelling something and then figured out it was Duo's name. That pleased him on some deep level, and he knew it would make Duo happy, too.  
  
After than he just wanted to collapse in a pile of sweaty, welcoming arms and legs, but he forced himself to stay alert as he carefully freed Duo from the ropes and rubbed his extremities to make certain the circulation hadn't been compromised. Duo fell asleep with a blissful smile on his face before he'd finished, and Quatre was already gone, too. He and Trowa got them into the bed side by side, then curled up bracketing them. Trowa draped an arm over them all and found Heero's hand. Heero clasped it, gazing across tousled auburn and blond hair into those intense green eyes. Even in the candlelight he could see the hint of worry there.   
  
"You OK, Heero?"  
  
Heero caressed Trowa's fingers with his thumb. "Yes. How are you?"  
  
"Sore, but happy. You fuck like a god. I knew you would."  
  
Heero considered this, trying to sort out the jumble of feelings those words evoked now that it was over.  
  
Trowa caught him fretting and stroked his cheek. "Special occasion, remember? I'm not expecting things to change. I don't want them to, OK?"  
  
Heero gave him a grateful look. "Thank you. I just hope the others don't regret---"  
  
Duo stirred, nestling his backside more firmly against Heero's thighs and finding the hand Heero had wedged under the pillow. "No regrets, 'ro. Love you. Gonna marry you. Now hush up and let me sleep!"  
  
"Yeah," sighed Quatre, opening his eyes just long enough to kiss all three of them. "Shut up and sleep. 'thas an order."  
  
"Bossy little things, aren't they?" Heero chuckled, relieved.  
  
Trowa grinned and nuzzled the back of Quatre's head. "You should talk!"


	99. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero woke slowly, aware at first of nothing but a warm weight on his chest. He opened his eyes and discovered that it was Quatre. He was sprawled on top of Heero, lying between his spread legs with his head on Heero's chest and his arms around him. Heero instinctively tried to wrap his arms around the sleeping boy but they were still cuffed over his head to the bars of the fancy wooden headboard. The others were nowhere to be seen and Heero raised his head, looking around in alarm. The heavy drapes were still drawn and there was no sound of anyone in the bathroom.  
  
Quatre woke up as soon as he stirred. Sleepy blue eyes blinked up at him. "They left a note," he mumbled, showing Heero a crumpled piece of paper. "Didn't want to give room service an eyeful, so they went out to find us some breakfast." Before Heero could ask, he added, "Everyone's fine. How are you?"  
  
Heero pondered that. Sober now, in the light of day, with a warm, naked Quatre still lying on top of him with no apparent desire to move, Heero decided that he was fine, too. "Just a little sore. Uncuff me, please?"  
  
Quatre shifted against him, his smooth belly sliding over Heero's morning erection as he reached up and undid the leather cuffs. Heero lowered his stiffened arms and flexed them. Quatre settled back down with his ear to Heero's heart, giving every indication that he intended to go back to sleep right where he was. Heero rolled his stiffened shoulders, and then gently embraced him, stroking his hair. This felt good, as it always did, to touch and cuddle Quatre. 04 sighed and snuggled closer, completely relaxed and content.   
  
Heero hugged him and combed his fingers through Quatre's silky mop of hair. He didn't like this new hairstyle, but it was only temporary. The short hair on the back and sides of his head was growing in nicely, and he'd promised to let it all grow long. At least he'd bleached it out to blonde again, with a few sky blue pieces over his eyes.   
  
Quatre chuckled. "I love you, too."  
  
Heero hadn't been thinking that, exactly, but he realized he'd been feeling it, and for a long time since he'd come back. "I didn't make love to you last night."  
  
"Yes, you did. We just didn't have sex."  
  
"Are you sorry?"  
  
Quatre was quiet for a moment. "No. Are you?"  
  
"No. This is--I don't know. This feels right." He was at a loss for words. Somehow, holding Quatre like this was enough.  
  
"Yes, it does," Quatre agreed, hugging him. "Am I too heavy?"  
  
"No, you're just right."   
  
Another chuckle vibrated against Heero's cock, and that felt nice, but it didn't make him want to fuck him. It was odd, but--nice.  
  
Heero glanced over at the bedside clock. It was nearly nine, and Christmas Day. Earth Fall Day. "Three years ago, we were all on Earth for the first time. Well, except for Trowa."  
  
"Strangers. Funny, isn't it? It seems so much longer ago. Now we're family."  
  
"Family." That sounded right, though Heero was quite certain they didn't fit any standard definition of the word. "How will this work? You and Trowa have to get back to your show."  
  
"You and Duo are coming with us to New York, right? You said you'd help out."  
  
"Yes, but maybe not as permanent members of the company."  
  
"Let's just play it by ear. You guys have your wedding to think of, and what you want to do with your lives. Tro and I will support any decision you make."  
  
"Thanks." Heero kissed the top of Quatre's head, loving his spicy, musky smell. "I hope you can resume performing soon."  
  
"I will. Physical therapy is already helping. But--" He paused, and Heero felt him tense against him.   
  
"Your family," Heero said, gently prompting.  
  
"We don't have to think about them right now."  
  
"I don't mind. What's going on with that?"  
  
"There's going to be a competency hearing next week."  
  
"Next week!" Heero rolled Quatre off and sat up, staring at him in surprise. "Next week and you didn't say anything? What can we do? How can I help?"  
  
Quatre curled up on the pillows, took Heero's hand, and nestled his cheek against it. "Not much you can do, I'm afraid. Their lawyers are trying to use my relationship with you guys against me. Basically, they're making me out as a weak-minded pervert who's been led astray by infidels. I've certainly given them enough ammunition these past few years. And I did walk away from the family business."  
  
"Is it true they're attempting to have your union with Trowa voided?"  
  
Quatre shrugged, but his grip on Heero's hand tightened a little. "They want to put me in a mental hospital and 'cure' me."  
  
"That's absurd!"  
  
"Of course it is. I'm not even an L-4 citizen anymore. No, what they really want, especially my uncle, is to punish me, even if it's only dragging me through the tabloids again. In the old days, here on Earth, someone like me would have been killed for bringing shame on the family. At least they aren't going that far."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Quatre."  
  
Quatre smiled up at him. "It's OK, Heero. I never got along with that part of my family anyway. I didn't even know my oldest sisters, growing up. By the time I came along they were already off on other colonies, working. As for my uncle, he's in it for honor, but also to gain control of WEI."  
  
"So what are you going to do?"  
  
"Let him have it."  
  
"The company?"  
  
"He can't have complete control. There are too many other sisters as shareholders, and some of them still like me. But if he wants me out, that's fine. If they'll just leave me alone, that's all I ask. I've talked about this a lot with Trowa. I don't care about the money. He and I were living on practically nothing on L-3, using my allowance for extras. I don't care about that, as long as I have him. And anyway, it looks like the circus is going to support us quite nicely. We're going to be fine, Heero. Don't worry. And if it all goes south, well, then we'll just come and sponge off you and Duo."  
  
"Do you need character witnesses?" Heero asked, more upset than Quatre seemed to be. "I'll testify for you."  
  
"I appreciate that, Heero, but that might do more harm than good, considering." He gestured down at the two of them, naked together in bed. "No, so far it's just going to be us and our lawyers with the judge, in a closed hearing."  
  
"It still doesn't seem right," Heero grumbled.  
  
"That's because you didn't grow up on L-4," Quatre said sadly. "I did. It wasn't easy for me, letting go of a lot of things--beliefs--to be with Trowa. I'm not sorry, either, but I'm willing to deal with the consequences."  
  
"You think you deserve this."  
  
Quatre just cuddled closer, nuzzling his way under Heero's chin. "Don't worry about it."  
  
Duo and Trowa came in just then, dressed in jeans and tee shirts under their snow-dusted leather coats and bearing pink bakery boxes and insulated coffee cups.  
  
"Whew, it smells like orgy and ass in here!" Duo said, wrinkling his nose. "You two still in bed?"  
  
"Just talking," Quatre replied, sitting up.   
  
"Lazy bastards," Trowa said, pretending disapproval even as he and Duo stripped to their briefs to join them. "You're here, all warm and snuggly, while Duo and I walked ten blocks in a blizzard to find breakfast for you."  
  
Quatre raised an eyebrow. "A blizzard?"  
  
"Well, it's snowing," Duo told him.  
  
They ate pastries and coffee in bed, and then made ready to go. Trowa and Quatre took the first shower, and Heero could hear the murmur of voices over the hiss of the water. Alone at last with Duo, Heero pulled him close and looked deeply into his eyes. "Are we OK?"  
  
Duo smiled up at him. "I am if you are. And you and Kat seemed real OK when we got back."  
  
"We were just talking."  
  
"I know, baby. I can read you both like books." He grinned and kissed Heero on the nose. "I love them, too. You know that, and I've done my share of messing around with them. I'm glad you're into it, too. I don't feel so guilty about it anymore."  
  
"But you never had actually had sex with them before, and now we both have."  
  
"Yep. And it was fun, and maybe we'll do it again sometime, if it feels right. But we all said last night that things aren't going to change. Does that still go?"  
  
"Yes." Heero kissed him gently, heart bursting with sudden tenderness. "You're still my one and only, little mermaid, no matter what."  
  
"Mmmmm, yeah," Duo purred. "Back at you, 'ro. Kat's a sweet ride, and it was hot, but he's no Heero Yuy."  
  
#  
  
There were many shades of silence with Trowa. Quatre had long ago learned to read them without being too invasive. He lathered his husband's lean back, letting his fingers linger over the tattoo there. "Talk to me, Tro."  
  
Trowa turned and took him in his arms. The spray of the shower pounded on his shoulders, casting a cloud of mist around them. "You're not mad, meli?"  
  
"Why would I be mad? It was my idea."  
  
"I know, but we were stoned."  
  
"Are you sorry?"  
  
Trowa stared down at their feet. "I wish I was, at least a little."  
  
Quatre cupped Trowa's chin and rose on his toes to kiss him. "No guilt, love. No brooding." That was like telling Trowa not to breath, of course, but it had to be said.   
  
This had been a huge step for Trowa. He and Duo and Quatre had all fucked their share of other men, but only Quatre, of all the five of them, had ever willingly bent over for strangers, outsiders. And there's been plenty of them, during his wildest days right after the war, when Trowa had left him to go back to the circus to try and make things right, and Quatre had returned home to start his big breakdown. For a long time, nothing had seemed real or right, not even what he'd shared so briefly with Trowa on Peacemillion. Bereft of the body he so craved, he'd careened out of control and held his own ass cheap, offering it to anyone who seemed to offer a momentary respite from the crushing emptiness in his heart. To this day, he still marveled that Trowa had never held that against him. Quatre could tell now, though, that he was having trouble extending the same mercy to himself. He'd wanted Heero, and he'd given himself to him, loving every minute of it while it lasted with every fiber of his sensual soul. Now he had to suffer for it. Quatre could feel the guilt building.  
  
Quatre guided him out from under the spray and turned him so Trowa was facing the wet tile. Without a word, Quatre stroked his hands firmly down his back and gripped his buttocks, then worked a finger between them, penetrating him none too gently.   
  
Trowa was still stretched from Heero's cock, and slick with last night's lube. He was sore, too, and hissed softly through his teeth even as he pushed back for more. Withdrawing his finger, Quatre rose on his toes again and entered him with a single hard thrust. Trowa cried out softly and braced himself against the wall, rocking his hips back, opening himself to pain and possession.  
  
Quatre wrapped his arms around Trowa's waist and gentled his thrusting, kissing his lover's back and shoulders. "You're mine, Trowa. I love you, and you're mine."  
  
"Ti amo," Trowa moaned, reaching back with one hand to stroke Quatre's face. "Thank you, meli. Don't ever leave me."  
  
"Never."  
  
They came together, shuddering against each other, then washed and dried each other tenderly, kissing and caressing.   
  
"I liked seeing you come with Duo," Trowa murmured, and Quatre knew his husband was all right again.   
  
Heero and Duo must have heard something or guessed what was going on. When Quatre and Trowa emerged from the bathroom they were waiting with open arms, and the four of them shared a long embrace.  
  
"I don't want things to be weird with us," Duo said.  
  
"Everything's fine," Quatre assured him. "Now, let's go home!"


	100. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei found the hospital a lonelier place with the others gone, but they kept in touch by vidphone nearly every day.  
  
Wufei was given little peace by his doctors. His aorta had mended well with the last treatment, but he was still being given all sorts of antibiotics and drugs, and was constantly being monitored. At least he was allowed to begin physical therapy again. He soon grew sick of the sight of the corridor, but doggedly made his way up and down it as often as his mending body would allow, trying to rebuild his lost strength.  
  
Wufei's doctors were pleased with his recovery rate, but he remained frustrated by his own weakness. As his release date neared, at the end of the first week of January, he was no longer in any pain but remained short of breath and he tired all too easily, even as he tried to push his own limits. It was too soon to tell if he would have lasting any lasting physical disabilities but for now, he was burdened with a whole list of cautions about what he could do and not do, even what he should eat.  
  
One good sign was the gradual, if tenuous, reemergence of his libido. Strenuous sexual activity was still out of the question, but Wufei managed to coax Zechs into masturbating for him again twice more before they left Tokyo. He was amazed at how much he enjoyed his lover's performance. It was very pleasurable to be able to watch with detachment as that strong, virile body became aroused and reached climax. He could tell that Zechs found the situation equally enjoyable, too, though he did not initiate the activity himself. When he came to bed afterwards his skin was hot, and smelled wonderfully of sex and sweat. Zechs would not hear of any direct sexual contact between them yet, but Wufei insisted on licking his fingers clean of semen, and he could tell that this pleased his lover.  
  
A troubling element of a different sort had arisen, or perhaps Wufei was finally well enough to notice. For the first time since they'd been sleeping together, Zechs was restless at night, muttering and twitching his sleep enough to wake Wufei. Propped on one elbow, he watched as fear and desperation played across that proud, handsome face. He'd never seen such an expression when Zechs was awake, and suspected that the nightmares that plagued his lover were his fault. Wracked with guilt, he stroked Zechs's brow and kissed him gently until he quieted or awakened. He would not speak of his dreams, but held Wufei almost painfully tight until he fell asleep again.  
  
Out of bed, however, Zechs proved to be an incorrigible nurse. He oversaw Wufei's treatments, and his release, taking charge of the forms and medications. On the day of their departure he dressed Wufei for the journey home, in his favorite jeans and a soft wool sweater, and would have carried him through the halls in his arms if Wufei hadn't put his foot down and insisted on a wheelchair. Even that hurt his pride, but there was no help for it. He was still woefully unsteady on his feet and lacked stamina. This was at least preferable to falling on his face in front of all the nurses and security guards.  
  
And of course, the press.  
  
Hospital policy and security had kept the reporters and paparazzi out of the ward, but they were waiting in a pack when Zechs wheeled him out onto the snowy sidewalk where a limousine was waiting to whisk them off to a private jet. But there was still this gauntlet to be run, and he and Zechs had agreed ahead of time that it was probably better to give them a brief statement than try to escape without comment.  
  
Bundled in his black cashmere coat and a blanket like the invalid he was, Wufei grimly endured the inevitable whirr of cameras and the volley of questions from the crowd of reporters trying to clamber past the police and Zechs's bodyguards.  
  
"How are you, Wufei?"  
  
"Prince Peacecraft, is it true you two were secretly married here in Tokyo?"  
  
"Will you be living with him, 05?"  
  
"What do the other Gundam boys have to say about your relationship?"  
  
The questions flew as thick as the falling snow for a few moments, while Wufei and Zechs silently waited for them to stop long enough for an answer.  
  
At last Zechs held up a hand. He was wearing an expensive topcoat over his jeans, with his hair loose over his shoulders. The photographers ate it up, as Duo would say.  
  
"Thank you all for your concern," he said. His voice had never recovered fully, and it went a bit thin and raspy as he tried to raise it to be heard now. With a small frown of frustration, he stepped closer to the forest of microphones thrust in his direction. "Thank you," he began again. "Unfortunately, Captain Chang is still too weak to speak with you, but I'll be happy to answer a few questions. A few, mind you. We have a long flight ahead of us and Captain Chang's strength is still limited."  
  
"Are you two married?" asked the American reporter who'd first shouted the question.  
  
"No," Zechs replied, and left it at that. Neither of them wanted the news of their engagement to come out in this undignified fashion. Like it or not, Zechs was still royalty and there were protocols to be followed.  
  
"What is the nature of your relationship?" someone else persisted. Wufei looked over, recognizing the German accent at once. It was Meir, from Berlin.  
  
"That is private," Zechs replied coolly.  
  
"But isn't it true that Captain Chang was formally disciplined by the Preventers for his relationship with you, sir?" the bastard persisted. It was like Heero's return, all over again.  
  
"I assure you, Captain Chang is in good standing with the Preventers," Zechs replied. "As you know, he was wounded in the line of duty, and most heroically, I might add. I expect he will be receiving a commendation for his part in apprehending a very dangerous serial child murder and sex ring."  
  
"What was Heero Yuy's role in that, and Duo Maxwell's?" someone else shouted.  
  
"I cannot comment on that, except to say that their conduct was exemplary."  
  
"Is Captain Chang going back to Sanque with you today, sir?"  
  
"Yes." There was no point in trying to hide that fact.  
  
"Then you two are involved?"  
  
Zechs arched an elegant eyebrow at that and shot Wufei a questioning look. Wufei sighed and nodded. "Yes, I am happy to say that we are, but you must not expect me to share any personal details with you here today. We are private people and I hope you will respect that."  
  
Fat chance, thought Wufei, watching the way the reporters were slavering over this crumb of information.  
  
Zechs politely but firmly extracted himself from the reporters and helped Wufei into the car as the bodyguards closed ranks around them.  
  
"Well, that wasn't so bad," he said, settling the blanket snugly Over Wufei's knees again and buckling his seatbelt for him.  
  
"Compared to what?" Wufei grumbled, glad of the tinted glass. He hadn't realize how sheltered they'd been up until now. They hadn't even watched the news. Now it seemed the whole world was descending on them. Still more fragile than he cared to admit, Wufei clasped Zechs's hand and rested his head on his shoulder, trying to master his unruly emotions.  
  
"It's all right, mei," Zechs murmured, putting a protective arm around him. "We'll be home soon, and no one will bother you there. I'll see to that."  
  
"I'm not ashamed of our love, you know," Wufei replied, emotion making him sound overly gruff.  
  
"I think we proved that the other night, with the bottle game," Zechs chuckled.  
  
"I simply don't feel comfortable with so much attention. Especially from people like that!"  
  
"I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to some media attention, though. Gundam boys and ex-terrorist princes can't get free of the limelight so easily."  
  
"Prince Peacecraft." Wufei savored the name wonderingly.  
  
"Please," Zechs laughed. "That's Mr. Merquise to you, my little love."  
  
"Agreed. But it does occur to me that I am to marry the handsome prince who rescued me. I suppose the press will have a field day with that."  
  
"They don't know how I rescued you, my little love, from your lonely delusion about yourself, nor need they. And I'll be certain to tell them how you threw yourself in front of a bullet for me."  
  
"You aren't going to let that go, are you?" asked Wufei, thinking again of Zechs's nocturnal torment.  
  
Zechs's brows drew down a little at that. "I don't think I'll ever be able to, mei. That moment is etched in my heart forever. Promise me you'll never be so foolish again."  
  
Chastised yet again, Wufei squeezed his lover's hand. "I will not be so careless again, but I will always protect you with my life."  
  
Zechs sighed and hugged him. "I suppose that will have to do for now."  
  
The private jet Relena had sent for them was outfitted like a hotel suite, complete with a dining table and a double bed hidden behind a partition, in addition to several rows of first class style seating. Their bodyguards took the seats, and Zechs insisted Wufei make the trip in bed. He tucked him in, then went to join the copilot in the cockpit to oversee take off. Wufei stared out the curved window by his bed, feeling even more like an invalid, and embarassed to be seen being coddled like this by the bodyguards. He lay back, intending to find a proper seat as soon as they were airborne, but his weak body betrayed him again, and he slept all the way to Sanque.  
  
#  
  
An armed chauffer and more security personnel met them in Sanque that evening, and Wufei had a pleasant moment of deja vu as he sank into the plush leather upholstery of the Rolls. This time he was returning with Zechs to a more certain future, one he was very much looking forward to, if only he could get well again.  
  
There was no snow here, but the air was crisp and the houses were still decorated with lights and wreathes for Christmas.  
  
"It's a very pretty holiday," Wufei remarked, enjoying the spectacle as they made their way thorugh the capital to the coastal highway.  
  
"I can't say that I'm particularly religious, but I do enjoy the good feelings and the celebrations that go with it," Zechs admitted, kissing his hand. "I'm glad you're not uncomfortable with it."  
  
The great house overlooking the sea was a blaze with lights. Strings of twinkling white lights had been wrapped around all the trees lining the long drive, and covered the bare bushes and trees that flanked the grand entrance. Zechs helped him into the waiting wheelchair and, with the help of one of the bodyguards, got him up the stairs. It was awkward and embarrassing. By the time they'd gotten him up to the wreath-decked front door he wished Zechs had just carried him.  
  
Inside, the house had been decorated in typical lavish Sanque style. Every window was hung with fragrant pine and balsam garlands, and festooned with colorful red and gold velvet ribbons. Bowls and arrangements of fruit and red berries adorned tables. In the large living room that they'd hardly ever used stood a huge, colorfully decorated Christmas tree.  
  
A light supper had been laid on a small, linen draped table by the fire. They dined there, with Wufei in his wheelchair, and then Zechs settled him on a chaise lounge by the tree.  
  
Tomas appeared with a tray of sweets and hot cider. "A belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, your Highness. And welcome back, Master Wufei. The staff and I are so pleased to have you both home and well again."  
  
"Thank you, Tomas," said Zechs. "I trust you all received the boxes I sent?"  
  
"Most generous, your Highness. Shall I send in the maid to clear the table?"  
  
"Yes, and then we won't need you again tonight. Please tell the others we're not to be disturbed."  
  
Tomas bowed and left them, closing the sliding doors softly behind him.  
  
Zechs joined Wufei on the chaise, holding him in his arms and feeding him tiny, delicately flavored sweets from the silver tray.  
  
Wufei accepted the pampering, glad to be here with him again and enjoying the tree and the fire. "I think I like Christmas, so long as I don't have to convert."  
  
"As you are marrying a confirmed atheist, I don't think that will be necessary. And there is no state religion in Sanque." He fed him another sweet, something sticky and redolent of apples and cinnamon. "Tell me, Wufei, how attached are you to this house?"  
  
"Why do you ask?"  
  
"Oh, it just seems a bit much, that's all. It was Relena's choice for me, you know. All this rococo frippery? That's her style, not mine. I spent most of my life in military academies."  
  
"Rococo frippery'?" Wufei chuckled, cuddling closer. "Shall we move into a barracks, then, your Highness?"  
  
Zechs smiled and kissed him. "No, but I was thinking of something smaller, and more modern, perhaps as a wedding present. Or we could build. Would you prefer something more Chinese?"  
  
Wufei laced his fingers through Zechs's and their new rings caught the firelight. "I don't know. So long as I am with you, I don't care that much."  
  
"My little romantic."  
  
Zechs kissed him again, and this time Wufei parted his lips, teasing Zechs's tongue with his own. He pressed a hand to Zechs's broad chest, feeling how the pulse quickened there, then slid it down to the front of his jeans. "You are aroused, your Highness."  
  
"Mmmm. I prefer 'emperor' from you, little love," Zechs rumbled against his lips.  
  
Wufei smiled inwardly, sensing that his overly protective lover's resistance was low tonight. "Your humble blossom boy misses his emperor's touch very much," Wufei sighed, feeling the stirrings of his own arousal. "It's been so long! Weeks!"  
  
Zechs pulled back reluctantly. "I know, my love, but the doctor's orders were very clear."  
  
"Nothing too strenuous," Wufei reminded him as he pulled the tie from his hair and shook it loose. "That's what the release instructions said. But he did say that intimacy was acceptable and probably good for my recovery. I'm not asking for a hard-- Well, you know. But I need your touch. And--" He paused, pondering the best lure to overcome Zechs's lingering reluctance. "And I want to taste you. Really taste you."  
  
"Oh, mei!" Zechs gently kissed his way down Wufei's throat and pulled at the neck of his cashmere sweater to kiss his shoulder. "I need you, too, but I won't jeopardize your recovery in any way. Not with you doing so well."  
  
"I know. You're right of course, but still--" Wufei looked up coyly through his lashes; he'd learned a great deal about what Zechs found irresistible these past few months. "Undress me, Zechs. Do whatever you think best after that, just so long as you touch me. I'm so tired of being sick! I need you tonight, as my lover. I'll behave and do as you say, I promise."  
  
Zechs shivered noticeably as he kissed him again, then shook his head. "You used to be shy, as I recall."  
  
"You have corrupted me, my emperor. I'm yours to command."  
  
"And if I command you to go to bed and sleep, like a good little blossom boy?"  
  
"I slept through the whole flight," Wufei countered. "I'm wide awake now."  
  
"You're pouting, Captain Chang."  
  
"I never pout. I'm far too dignified," Wufei said, doing his best to pout as erotically as possible. He had no doubt that he looked perfectly ridiculous, but Zechs's defenses were crumbling. The man was grasping at straws. Wufei brought his lips close to his, not quite kissing, and delivered the coup de grace. "Please, my love, carry me off to our bed and do what you will?"  
  
That did it. With something like a snarl of arousal, Zechs scooped him up and carried him down the corridor past several surprised bodyguards to the room they now shared.  
  
Once there, however, he turned the tables. He lit the candles that stood ready on the bedside table, then took his time undressing Wufei, kissing and licking bare skin as it was exposed. When Wufei was naked and panting, and sporting his first real erection since the shooting, he slowly stripped off his own clothing and joined him on the bed in the sixty-nine position. Lying close to Wufei, he smoothed a hand over his hip, then gently drew his cock into his mouth and caressed it with his tongue and lips.  
  
"Oh god, yes!" Wufei gasped, and eagerly took Zechs in his mouth.  
  
The smell and taste and heat of his lover washed over him in an erotic wave from head to toe. As one, they shifted their lower thighs to pillow their lovers' heads. Zechs wrapped an arm around Wufei's waist and caressed his ass as he worked magic with his mouth. Wufei was too overwhelmed by sensation to do more than cling to that wonderful body and take him down his throat as skillfully as he knew how. He kept his promise and lay very still as they slowly, gently drove each other to glorious simultaneous orgasm. Wufei moaned with pleasure as he drank Zechs's thick, salty sweet ejaculate and felt the answering vibration in his cock as Zechs did the same. It was pure bliss.  
  
When they'd licked and sucked each other clean, Zechs turned and spooned in behind Wufei under the covers. He continued to gently stroke and caress him, but Wufei did not miss the way he also surreptitiously checked his pulse.  
  
"I feel fine," he assured him. "More than fine. Wonderful! Thank you, my love. I really did need that."  
  
"A sure sign of returning health," Zechs chuckled warmly against his neck.  
  
Wufei did feel wonderful, still caught in the afterglow, but it had exhausted him more than he'd expected. He wouldn't admit that, but he could already feel his eyelids growing heavy. He yawned, then found Zechs's hand and clasped it. "And now I truly do feel like I'm home. I love you so!"  
  
Zechs hugged him gently. "I love you, my darling, and I want the whole world to know it. I'm to go before Parliament in a few days, to formalize our engagement. I'd like to give them a date for the wedding. Are you ready to think about that?"  
  
"I'll marry you tomorrow if you like. Is that soon enough?"  
  
Zechs laughed. "Sanquese state weddings are rather long, tedious affairs. You'll need your full strength to get through it, and I mean to dance with you afterwards, in full view of the photographers. Spring is lovely here. How does April sound?"  
  
"My emperor's wish is my command," Wufei sighed happily, nestling his bare backside against Zechs's spent cock. "I will marry you in April, not faint during the ceremony, and dance as much as you like. When you're not dancing with Maxwell, that is." He toyed with the diamond engagement ring he'd given Zechs. "Will we play 'spin the bottle' anymore, after we're married?"  
  
"Oh dear. That sounds like a question with no right answer."  
  
Wufei snorted, amused. "I did not mean to sound like an insecure woman playing mind games. I enjoyed kissing them, too, and enjoyed watching you with the others. Will it be different, when we are married?"  
  
"I don't expect it to be. It doesn't seem to make any difference to Trowa and Quatre."  
  
"True."  
  
"And you have my word, as always, that kissing is as far as I will ever go with anyone else ever again, and only with your blessing."  
  
Wufei turned over and looked earnestly into his eyes. "Are you certain this is what you want, Zechs?" It all suddenly seemed very real and final, this talk of setting dates. "Monogamy, I mean? Or are you just doing it for me?"  
  
Zechs stroked Wufei's hair back and smiled. "Both. And yes, I'm certain. Your love completes me, mei. I don't need any other men, now that I have you."  
  
Satisfied, Wufei kissed him and nestled down with his head on Zechs's chest. "You complete me, too, Zechs. You've made me whole for the first time in my life."  
  
He went to sleep with Zechs's taste in his mouth and his scent filling his senses and dreamed of marrying him in the temple on L-5, both of them dressed in the traditional black robes. It was a good dream, but he was shaken from it when Zechs began to toss and mutter in his sleep.  
  
It was too dark to see his face, but Wufie could hear him muttering, "No, no, look out. Vest, not wearing-NO!"  
  
"I'm here, Zechs," Wufei whispered, kissing him and rubbing his chest. "I'm safe and alive. I'm with you, my love."  
  
He wasn't certain if Zechs woke or not, but strong arms enfolded him, holding him tightly for along time before that frantic heartbeat under Wufei's cheek slowed to normal again.


	101. At Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_January 4, 198_  
 _Waldorf-Winner Hotel_  
 _New Riyad, L-4 Colony_  
 _7:30 a.m. L4T_  
  
Quatre stood in front of the hotel mirror, scowling at his reflection. Piercing jewelry removed-all of it, not just the pieces that showed-- dressed in the expensive, stylish gray business suit, with his hair freshly dyed back to plain blond and cut more softly around his face, he looked more like his wartime self than he had in months. A taller, older version, to be sure, but still more like Quatre Raberba Winner than Kat Winner-Barton.   
  
He hated it.   
  
"I like my other outfit better," he grumbled, glancing over at the black leather pants and black, cropped CdN tank top that Trowa had vetoed. "I'm sick of pretending to be someone else, just to please them! It doesn't do any good, anyway! You look great. I look like an accountant."   
  
"A very attractive, stylish accountant, meli." Trowa came up behind him and reached around to straighten the knot of Quatre's elegant Italian silk necktie. His own black silk suit and black collarless shirt were more avant-garde in cut. He smiled at Quatre in the mirror and kissed him on the cheek. "Keep the mission in mind, 04. We don't want to go scaring the straights now, do we? This is just camouflage for moving in enemy territory."  
  
Quatre turned in his arms and rested his head on Trowa's shoulder. "I know. I'm so glad you're here!"  
  
Trowa hugged him close. "I just hope it's not a mistake."  
  
Their status was questionable. Quatre's family was using their relationship and history against them. According to L-4 civil law, same sex marriages could not be legalized here. But under ESUN law, unions sanctioned on other colonies or Earth must be honored everywhere, a statute that was still bitterly debated here. Quatre had given up his L-4 citizenship when he broke with his family two years ago, but he'd been a minor then by all statutes and his uncle and older sisters were calling into question the emancipation he'd been granted at the end of the war. On L-4 he wouldn't be considered a legal adult for another year.  
  
His lawyer, Isobel Cardoza, was famous for representing rich and powerful clients in cases like these and her record was excellent, but there was too much at stake for Quatre to be anything but unsettled as he watched the clock tick toward the appointed time.   
  
"Do you think Heero and Duo would mind if I called?" he asked. "It's still so early there."  
  
Trowa took him by the elbow and led him to the vid phone on the desk. "Call. You know they're up."  
  
+  
  
_New Orleans, LA_  
 _3:35 a.m. EST_  
  
Marie brought a tray of coffee and fresh sugary donuts up to the upstairs parlor and joined Heero and Duo in front of the new large screen television. She'd personally overseen the equipping of the new kitchen and gone back to work there before the last painter had left. Too worried about "Mr. Quatre's" fate, she'd spent the night and been up cooking for most of it.   
  
Heero gave her a smile and took charge of the coffee pot. He and Duo hadn't slept either. They'd seen Quatre and Trowa off the previous day, then spent the day going over contingency plans and moping around the too-empty house. It was almost a relief to have Zero Hour finally coming. It had been a long week.  
  
They'd had the television on all night, listening to the press wind up before the hearing that would start at 5 a.m. New Orleans time. It was cold and rainy and dark. Heero lit a fire in the fireplace and sat on the sofa with Duo under a blanket.  
  
"They saying anything new yet?" Marie grumbled, settling in an armchair with her coffee.   
  
"No. Same old garbage," said Duo, flipping between the local channel and GNN with the remote.  
  
Heero resisted the urge to grab it away from him. As usual, most the news commentators were concentrating on the more lurid details of Quatre and Trowa's past. There were the expected clips of Quatre's breakdown rant on the steps of WEI, shots of him entering clubs and hospitals and rehabs, the infamous Vanity magazine cover, stills of the couple in their risque circus outfits, and of course, endless replays of the four of them clubbing. To anyone who didn't know the truth, it probably did look like Quatre was leading a very dissipated life. It made Heero feel very helpless, just sitting here, unable to do anything at all.   
  
The vid phone beside him rang just then and Quatre appeared on the screen. He was smiling, but Heero could tell how tense he really was. He wondered if Trowa had made love to him, as Heero had suggested.  
  
"Good morning." Heero moved over to make room for Duo in front of the monitor. "How are you doing? You look very respectable."  
  
Quatre wrinkled his nose. "Thanks, I guess. I'm nervous as hell, but I think I'm ready. The judge we're meeting with knew my father. Maybe that will help."  
  
"Hang tough, 04," Duo told him. "Hell, you're the smart one, right? And you could always charm the pants of anyone you wanted to. Just bat those baby blues at him and give him the innocent act. He won't have a chance." He glanced down at his watch. "Hey, it's time. Good luck, buddy! We love you!"  
  
"Love you, too." Quatre gave them a high sign and signed off.  
  
Duo switched back to GNN just in time to catch the start of Dr. Batoosingh's live interview with Larry Watts.  
  
"Good morning, Dr. Batoosingh. Thanks for joining us so early," said Watts. He was one of the better talking heads, in Heero's opinion, and handled more serious stories with decorum.  
  
"I am most happy to do so," Batoosingh replied, calm and unflappable as ever. Heero wondered if he had his pad open on the table beside him, ready to take notes on the interview the way he did in sessions.  
  
"Now, doctor, perhaps we should begin by explaining to our audience that you have never treated Quatre Winner-Barton, but know him through some of the other Gundam boys, who are your patients."  
  
"That is correct, Larry."  
  
"And which ones, if you don't mind my asking?"  
  
"Doctor-patient confidentiality does not allow me to say."  
  
"Of course. Sorry. But you feel you know Quatre well enough to speak about his emotional status?"  
  
"I do, and I do so with his express permission, and that of his partner, Mr. Barton-Winner."  
  
"I see. So, in your expert opinion, doctor, is there any merit in the claims some of his family are making, that he's not mentally competent?"  
  
"I find such claims utterly absurd, Larry. Mr. Winner-Barton has always struck me as a most intelligent and resourceful young man, wise beyond his years. He did suffer a nervous breakdown after the war, as so many young pilots did, but he sought appropriate medical help and has pulled his life together most admirably. His relationship with his partner strikes me as a very healthy one."  
  
"How then do you explain pictures like these?" More clubbing scenes flashed across the screen, focusing mainly on those of Quatre making out with Duo and Heero in clubs and on dance floors.  
  
Batoosingh smiled. "Mr. Winner-Barton's lifestyle may not be as sedate as some would like, but I have seen nothing in recent months to suggest that it is in any way destructive. Quite the opposite, in fact. Quatre and his friends are young, and they enjoy a rather unique history and social life together, but in my professional opinion, their behavior falls well within a broad definition of normal. There is no mental illness involved in the dynamic."  
  
Duo chuckled, cuddling closer to Heero. "Good thing he doesn't know about Tokyo."  
  
"Hush!" Marie said, shaking her head. "Whatever you boys get up to, I don't want to know either. Ain't nobody's business, that's what I say. Those folks of his got no right, nosing around in his doin's. That child's had enough heartache for one lifetime. You all have."  
  
"Amen to that," Duo murmured, raising his coffee mug to her.  
  
The feed cut to a feed of the street in front of the L-4 colonial high court building, where Quatre and Trowa had just emerged from a long black limo. The sidewalk was jammed with citizens and reporters being held back by a police line. Some in the crowd were holding up signs clearly in support of Quatre's right to privacy, while others condemned his relationship. The camera zoomed in on a bearded young man holding a sign that showed a picture of Quatre in club clothes, caught in mid pelvic grind with Duo, over which was scrawled in huge red letters, "Abomination!"  
  
"What is this, the fucking dark ages?" Duo exclaimed, quivering with indignation.   
  
Heero shook his head and tightened his arm around Duo, feeling another disquieting wave of helplessness. He wondered if it was his own emotion, or something he was picking up from the others over all that distance.  
  
Quatre had on his game face, though, Heero noted proudly. There was no hint of hesitation or fear as he calmly made his way toward the stairs, smiling at a few well wishers and ignoring the others. Trowa strode along beside him, one hand resting protectively in the small of Quatre's back. He looked looking taller and thinner than ever in his classy black Dolchi suit. His expression was unreadable as always, but Heero recognized the way he was scanning the crowd for potential threats. Some people were cheering them, others shouting epithets.   
  
"No wonder he wanted to keep it a secret at first," Heero said, rubbing a hand up and down Duo's arm to calm both of them.   
  
The vid phone rang again, and this time it was Wufei, and he looked furious. "You are watching the news, I assume." Those slanting black eyes were flashing with outrage, just like the old days.  
  
"Yeah. Can you believe it?" asked Duo.  
  
"No! What a shameful exhibition of intolerance. Poor Quatre! He doesn't deserve such treatment!"  
  
Heero thought of how Quatre had acted when he told him about the hearing. It had been as if this is exactly what he thought he did deserve. "Would it have been any different on L-5?" he wondered, thinking of all Wufei had told him.  
  
"There were no laws forbidding homosexuality. It simply wasn't recognized or discussed. One had to be discrete, no doubt, but this? This is ludicrous!"  
  
"Jesus, look at 03. If looks could kill!" said Duo.  
  
"Stand by. They're going in," murmured Heero.  
  
Heero and Wufei left their connection open as Trowa and Quatre disappeared inside. The reporters began interviewing people in the crowd, most of whom were against Quatre. After a moment Heero seized the control from Duo and killed the sound. "Enough. Their opinions are meaningless.  
  
+  
  
"Fornicator!"  
  
"Dirty faggots!"  
  
"Shame on you!"  
  
By the time he had Quatre safely inside the courthouse, Trowa would have given his right nut for five minutes in Heavyarms with a full ammo load. His jaw ached from gritting his teeth. This was a mission, and he knew how to control himself, but it had never been harder. Not when he could feel Quatre flinching at every harsh insult. The old wounds in that tender, conflicted heart were being ripped wide open again, and his love was bleeding.  
  
He slipped his left hand into his jacket pocket, palming the contents to calm himself.   
  
Miss Cardoza met them outside the judge's chambers with the bailiff and several armed officers. She gave Trowa an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. The judge insists on keeping it to only those directly involved.  
  
"I am directly involved," Trowa gritted out.  
  
"It's all right, Trowa," Quatre said, squeezing his hand. "It's enough to know you'll be right out here waiting for me." Rising on his toes, he kissed Trowa soundly on the lips and gave him a defiant wink as several of the security guards looked away in disgust.  
  
Quatre and his lawyer went inside and the heavy door shut with a dull, final sound. Trowa sat down on the polished wooden bench beside the door and rubbed his left ear, surreptitiously activating the tiny hidden earphone keyed into the pin sized transponder in Quatre's lapel. Everything came in loud and clear.  
  
+  
  
Quatre followed his lawyer inside to a comfortably appointed office. Deep leather armchairs were arranged in front of the judge's large desk. The judge, his uncle, sister and their lawyer were already in place. Quatre nodded to them as he took his seat, not liking the way his uncle was smiling at him.   
  
He remembered Judge Al-Quar from his father's parties and fundraisers. He was a white-haired man, very tall and thin, with a pointed white beard and thoughtful dark eyes under his shaggy eyebrows.   
  
"Hello, Quatre." The judge rose and shook his hand. "I am sorry to meet you again under these circumstances. I assure you, I have looked into your case most thoroughly and will strive to be fair to all."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Quatre said. "I must tell you, it's most upsetting to be here. I have already made it clear that I'm willing to give up my shares of WEI to my three younger sisters and sign away my vote in the corporation. I don't want anything from them at all, except to be left alone."  
  
Al-Quar shuffled through a stack of papers on his deck and held up a document. "Yes, I have your signed affidavit before me. It is part of what concerns me."  
  
Quatre's heart sank. This was not going to be easy. "You doubt my motives?"  
  
"This is a competency hearing, Quatre, not a corporate negotiation. The issue before us is whether, over the past three years, you have been acting of your own volition, and in your own best interests. As a minor-"  
  
"I have been an emancipated minor since the war's end, and under ESUN law, I am no longer one, since I turned eighteen," Quatre said stiffly. "As a citizen of L-3 . . ."  
  
The judge held up a hand. "Your lawyer has presented your arguments to me already. The time after the war was chaotic, and the rights of the ESUN versus colonial autonomy are still under dispute. You were a minor by all statutes when you were recruited by the Gundam scientist, and you left home against the express wishes of your legal guardians, your father and eldest sister."  
  
Fatima gave him a triumphant look. "You broke Father's heart. He never would have agreed to let you go, so you just ran away! You were still disobeying and betraying him the day he died."  
  
"Fatima, please," the judge cautioned.   
  
Quatre gripped the arms of his chair and struggled not to give in to grief at the memory. "It's true he disagreed with my choices, but the last time we spoke, I think he understood, even if he could never agree with what I'd chosen."  
  
"That is not at issue, either," said the judge. "You acted in direct and willful disobedience to your father's express wishes and under the law, you should have been found and brought home."  
  
"We might not be sitting here at all if that had happened," Quatre's lawyer retorted. "Quatre's part in ending the war is undisputed."  
  
"So you say!" Uncle Ahmed sniffed. "He did not act alone, and we have only the word of outsiders and other wayward minors."  
  
"That is also not on the table for dispute," the judge said sternly. "Having carefully examined all the facts presented, I do not believe Quatre was old enough to make such a decision without significant coercion. A young, impressionable, kind hearted-boy, offered the chance to go off on a grand adventure, with the added allurement of the Gundam itself . . ."  
  
"You're wrong!" Quatre said as calmly as he could manage. "I knew exactly what I was doing, and why! I'd do it all over again if I had to."  
  
The other lawyer, Omar Obeno, held up a familiar looking dossier. "Quatre was among a group of prospective pilots specifically targeted by the insidious men of Operation Meteor. He underwent extensive psychological profiling. They knew exactly how to turn him from a respectable, misguided child into a renegade!"  
  
"I must object, your honor. My esteemed colleague is twisting the evidence with his own pejorative opinion," Cardoza interjected. "Every suit pilot in every army underwent similar vetting. Only those deemed strong were allowed to pilot mobile suits. The fact that Quatre passed all tests with flying colors should be seen as a testament to his outstanding maturity."  
  
The judge gave a noncommittal shrug and turned to another file. "I have here a compilation of psychiatric and medical reports, dating from March of 196 to July of 197. Posttraumatic stress. Emotional break down. Drug abuse . . ." He pursed his lips disapprovingly. "Venereal disease. Arrests for drunkenness, drug abuse and public indecency. A charge of prostitution. Now you perform nude in a show that has already been banned on this colony?" He looked up at Quatre and shook his head sadly. "My boy, I know you were raised better than that!"  
  
"The prostitution charge was dropped. It was a false claim, filed out of spite by a man Quatre refused to date," his lawyer countered.  
  
"But the rest? Quatre, these are not the actions of a stable mind."  
  
"His work with Circus della Notte is an artistic performance. It may not meet the standards of this colony but it is highly acclaimed elsewhere," Cardoza said. "As for his earlier troubles, Quatre is hardly the only veteran to go through a period of such behavior. All of those factors are directly traceable to post traumatic stress syndrome. His diagnosis is well documented, together with the record of his treatment and release by Dr. Emma Standish. Since that time he as proven himself a responsible, productive citizen. He has held a steady job-"  
  
"A job he was given by the very man who seduced him, and kept him under his control and in his bed, at considerable financial cost to this family, I might add," said Ahmed indignantly.  
  
"How dare you!" Quatre was on his feet, barely able to contain himself. "Trowa did not seduce me, and I have always been with him of my own free will! He saved my life and my sanity!"  
  
"Quatre, please! This isn't helping!" Cardoza whispered, tugging him back into his seat.   
  
"I'm sorry, your honor, but please try to see it from my perspective," Quatre said, clenching his hands in his lap. "Trowa is more than just my hus-ah, partner. He's my best and dearest friend. He saved my life many times, during the war and afterwards. But for the past two and a half years my uncle and sister have done nothing but drag his name very publicly through the mud, accusing him of all sorts of terrible things. Not once in all the time I've been with him have they tried to get to know him. This isn't just about the Winner money, although I'm sure that's a big part of it. No, they can't get beyond the fact that I'm gay and I love him! And-and I'm afraid that you can't understand that, either, sir. How am I supposed to get a fair hearing under these circumstances, with such cultural bias against me? I'm not sick, I'm just different!"  
  
"Quatre, answer me this. Was Trowa Barton not among the many men you had sexual relations with during the time before you received mental health treatment?"  
  
"Yes, but-"  
  
"And you yourself have stated on the record that he was the first man you had sex with, at a time when the effects of this wartime stress were already beginning to manifest?"  
  
"That had nothing to do with it!"  
  
"And that even while claiming he loved you, he encouraged you to go to sex clubs of the most extreme sort, and to consort with other men. That he watched you commit sexual acts with other men?"  
  
"I-yes, but-It's not the way you make it sound." Quatre felt his face going red. Of course they knew all about that. His sister's spies had been very skillful, right from the start. The judge probably had photos in that thick file in front of him. "You can't understand what it was like, trying to handle so many changes at once. I did have PTSD, but I'd also tried to force myself to be someone I wasn't when I came back. I tried to be the good son, the dutiful Winner heir. If people here could have accepted Trowa as my lover, then I might not have broken down at all! Afterwards I admit, I was out of control. No one could help me except Trowa, and believe it or not, he did that by standing by me in those clubs and making sure I didn't go too far. And he didn't cast me aside for it. He's the reason I got help, and he's the one who got me through it."  
  
"Really? Then how to you explain this? Your honor, these photos were taken less than two weeks ago." Obeno slapped a sheaf of large pictures down on the desk and Quatre felt his heart sink a little lower. They were surveillance shots of the spin the bottle game at the hospital. Shocked as he was, his quick mind had already registered that Zechs didn't show up in any of them. Apparently even the almighty Winners didn't dare take on the Peacecrafts.   
  
"This took place at Tokyo General Hospital," Obeno explained with evident pleasure. "Witnesses there will testify that they heard Barton encouraging his so-called partner to lewd congress with these other boys." He slapped down more pictures of the four of them piled on top of each other in the cab, obviously drunk. "They later shared a room at a hotel, and witnesses there will attest to hearing the sounds of sexual activity."  
  
"Hearsay, your honor, and a clear invasion of my client's right to privacy!" Cardoza objected.  
  
Quatre took a deep breath, telling himself to be thankful no one had managed to photograph what had gone on in that room. "I know how my life must look to you, but nothing we do is illegal! Please try to understand-- I'm not an ordinary person. I never have been. My life is anything but ordinary. It may even strike you as immoral, but that doesn't make me crazy!"  
  
The judge just shook his head and gave him a pitying look. "You were still under psychiatric care when the two of you went through the union ceremony on L-2, were you not?"   
  
"Yes. Treatment was going well."  
  
"But you acted against the express advice of your doctor, didn't you? We have a signed affidavit from her, saying she did not feel you were stable enough to make such an important life decision."  
  
"She was wrong! I've talked to her since. She admits that she was wrong. What is the date on that affidavit?"  
  
"That's immaterial. Hindsight does not change the fact that at the time, you ignored the advice of your own mental health expert and-" Obeno paused with a look of disgust. "And married this man. You were only sixteen, still a minor under all statutes."  
  
"Emancipated minors are free to enter unions on L-2," Cardoza countered.  
  
"Only if they are mentally competent. Quatre failed to provide the necessary waiver. Only a bureaucratic oversight, or perhaps special treatment due to his fame and status, allowed the union to be entered into. Their so-called union isn't even valid by L-2's questionable standards!"  
  
Quatre felt like he was sinking into a nightmare. He remembered the pretty young clerk who'd winked at the oversight and promised them it would never be a problem.   
  
"And let's not forget the fact that Barton was eighteen at the time of their union. A case could be made for statutory rape."  
  
"Stop it!" Quatre yelled, slamming his fist down on the desk. "Trowa didn't know his real age until a few months ago. Nobody did. He had no birth records and a dental scan wasn't done until last October. That's a matter of public record!"  
  
Obeno was undeterred. "Yes, it is. Thereby opening him to a charge of contributing to the delinquency of a minor, fraud-"  
  
"Fraud?"  
  
"Are you denying that Barton has benefited financially through his relationship with you? That your not inconsiderable allowance has been spent in supporting him, buying him expensive clothing, trips, and the like?"  
  
"I shared willingly with him! He never asked me for one credit."  
  
"That remains to be seen," said Obeno, looking altogether too smug. "And there remains the matter of the statutory rape charges, as of today. You are still eighteen, are you not? And under L-4 law-"  
  
"I'm not an L-4 citizen, god damn it!"  
  
"Quatre, please!" Cardoza pleaded.  
  
  
The judge shook his head. "I'm sorry, Quatre, but it is the ruling of this court that you were not of sound mind when you were emancipated, or when you entered into the union with Trowa Barton, rending both those legal proceedings null and void."  
  
Quatre sank back in his chair. "No!"   
  
"I am not doing this to be cruel, I promise you. I have only your best interests at heart, and the memory of your dear father. But I am not blind, either. I do not take quite such a dim view of young Barton's motives, as do your relatives. Therefore I am tabling the fraud and rape charges, until such time as your current mental state has been evaluated."  
  
"Whom do you want me to see? A psychiatrist? That's fine."  
  
"Let me finish, Quatre. It is the ruling of this court that, acting in your best interests, you should be placed in protective custody, away from all outside influence, and undergo a period of observation and therapy, after which I will hear expert medical testimony as to your state of mind, past and present."  
  
"Protective custody." Quatre felt faint. "You mean you're keeping me here?"  
  
"Yes, Quatre. But in addition to that, I am disregarding your financial affidavit. WEI will acknowledge and respect your share of the corporation, and your votes will be counted in absentia-"  
  
Quatre was on his feet again. "I don't care! I don't want it! Please, just let me walk away from this, as I proposed. They never have to hear from me or think about me again!"  
  
"That is not in your best interests, Quatre, and such wild offers are not working in your favor, as to your mental state."  
  
"Why, because I'm spitting out the silver spoon that was put in my mouth when I was born? Is that all that matters? Money? I'm quite capable of making a living. I don't need any inheritance!"  
  
"You may feel differently later, Quatre. I cannot let you throw this away now. It would be irresponsible of me. It is the ruling of this court that you be made a ward of the court and taken directly into protective custody. You will be transported to the New Riyadh Veterans Hospital for observation for a period of no less than sixty days, whereupon your status will be reevaluated by the court."  
  
Quatre took a deep breath and tried to calm down enough to keep the tears at bay. It wasn't as if they hadn't foreseen something like this as a possible outcome. "Miss Cardoza, would you please read my prepared statement?"  
  
His lawyer opened her briefcase and took out a folded letter. "I'd like this read into the court record, Your Honor." He nodded, and she read it out very slowly and clearly for the benefit of the recorder. "'I, Quatre Raberba Winner-Barton, citizen of L-3 Colony and the Earth Sphere United Nation, declare myself a political prisoner of the government of L-4 colony. I declare that all efforts to detain me on L-4 are done against my will, and in direct conflict with ESUN law. Signed and dated this day." She handed the letter to the judge and provided Obeno with a notarized copy. "The moment you take Quatre from this room, your honor, copies of this statement will be relayed directly to the L-3 Embassy here in New Riyadh, to ESUN headquarters, and to the press."  
  
"Political prisoner!" Fatima exclaimed. "Do you hear that? He's not only a weak minded degenerate, he's paranoid and delusional!"  
  
"Please be quiet, Ms. Winner," her lawyer warned. "Surely your honor, you see how ridiculous this is? Are you going to allow such a farce? This will embarrass L-4 in front of the whole world!"  
  
The judge studied the letter, shaking his head a little. "Only if his claim has merit." He laid the letter aside and folded his hands before him. "You must do as you see fit, Quatre, but so must I."  
  
+  
  
Outside in the corridor Trowa unclenched his fists and took the tiny communicator from his pocket. Turning it on, he said very quietly, "Situation red."  
  
+  
  
In New Orleans, Duo relayed the message to Wufei in Sanque.  
  
Wufei acknowledged it with a grim nod. "Understood. Be careful. This is a delicate situation."  
  
"Hey, ain't we both just the soul of tact?" Duo sneered with a Shinigami grin.  
  
He signed off and followed Heero out the door for the shiny new motorcycle waiting downstairs.   
  
"You boys aren't going to try and get any weapons through colonial security, are you?" Marie called after them, guessing where they were headed.  
  
"We are weapons," Heero growled.  
  
+  
  
In Sanque, Wufei signed off the vid phone and pushed it across the table to Zechs.   
  
He calmly keyed in the number and smiled at the pretty receptionist. "Hi there, Elsa. Don't you look lovely today? Is my sister available? It's rather urgent, actually. A bit of a situation brewing."  
  
+  
  
Trowa had already memorized the plans of the building and knew exactly where to be waiting when Quatre was brought out to a waiting car. From his vantage point in the shadows of the alley where the back door let out, he saw how small and lost Quatre looked, surrounded by several security guards. Trowa waited until he was exactly between the doorway and the car, then turned the ignition on the big rented Harley, gunned the engine to a defining roar and skidded out, aiming directly for Quatre. The startled guards scattered. One of them tried to pull Quatre to safety, but he wiggled out of his suit jacket, took a running start and vaulted over Trowa's head to land on the seat behind him.   
  
"Go, go, go!" he shouted, wrapping his arms around Trowa's waist.  
  
Trowa opened up the big bike and roared out of the alleyway, veering sharply onto the street, which the police had so thoughtfully cordoned off. With no traffic to contend with, they got a good head start on the police as they streaked for the L-3 Embassy just six blocks away. Sirens erupted on all sides but Trowa had carefully scoped out their escape route. Leaving the street, they flew through a small park, veered the wrong way down a narrow one-way street, gunned it through a playground and the lower level of a parking garage. They were in sight of the Embassy gates when two squad cars appeared from opposite directions and blocked the way.   
  
"Hang on!" Trowa threw the bike into a sharp skid, wheeled around, and ran up onto the sidewalk next to the high stone wall that surrounded the Embassy grounds. Keeping one eye on the cops, who were on foot now and coming on fast, weapons drawn, he braked to a halt, climbed off, and bent over, hands cupped in front of him. "Up!"  
  
Quatre didn't hesitate. In a move they'd rehearsed hundreds of times over the past few years, he took a few steps back, ran to him and planted a foot in Trowa's hands. Trowa threw him up with all his strength and, with a little help from L-4's forgiving artificial gravity, Quatre vaulted easily to the top of the wall and clambered up.   
  
"Come on, 03, hurry!"  
  
Trowa glanced back at the cops. They were less than fifty yardrs away now, and shouting at him to halt. With a grin, he backed into the street, took a run, and flipped up into the air into his best spinning leap, landing with his usual flourish on the wall beside Quatre.   
  
"Sorry, gentlemen, but that's all the free show we can provide today," he called down to the flabbergasted cops. He reached into his pocket, produced a few silver tickets, and threw them down in a glinting flutter. "If you want more, come see us in New York. My treat. Be sure to tell your friends."  
  
"Nice touch!" Quatre laughed as they climbed down a large palm tree into the embassy courtyard.   
  
"Thanks." Trowa grabbed him and hugged him hard. "I thought it would play better with the press than my first choice, which was shouting, 'Don't ever fuck with the Gundam boys' and flipping them off."  
  
"Wise choice. I'm sure Duo will do that as soon as they get here, but people sort of expect that from him."


	102. Headline News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_January 4, 199_  
  
"Hurry up, they're going to replay the footage!" Heero called from the rented shuttle's passenger cabin.  
  
Duo locked in the autopilot of the Zoroaster for L-4 and floated back to join Heero. He was already strapped down on the leather couch in front of the large screen vid. He pulled Duo in, keeping him in place with an arm around his waist.  
  
Heero had dressed up for the occasion, wanting to present a strong image. He wore dark slacks and a crisp sapphire blue shirt under his leather jacket. Duo, on the other hand, had angrily opted to flaunt his style. He'd foregone makeup, but his jeans were tight and worn, his ears and right hand heavy with jewelry. His left hand was bare except for his engagement ring. He wore a long black leather duster Heero had given him over a black linen shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest to highlight the wide black leather choker he wore around his neck with the Shiva's eye pendant. The shirt was his only concession to Heero's concerned appraisal that morning; his original choice had been a cropped, tight, hot pink tank with the words "BETTER THAN PUSSY" emblazoned across it in big glittery red letters. That had been a gift from Quatre.   
  
"I want to look like your boyfriend, not your pimp," Heero had growled, forcibly helping him out of the offending garment. Duo had grumbled a little, but conceded when Heero pointed out that they didn't want to play into the hands of Quatre's relatives by showing up looking like total degenerates.   
  
He fidgeted restlessly with his pendant now as he settled in to watch the news. Heero took his hand and held it, stroking his lover's knuckles with his thumb to calm him. "Did you take your meds?"  
  
"Yes, for the millionth time! Did you?"  
  
"Of course. Let's see what's going on before you get any more upset, OK?"  
  
The local news services had pieced together surveillance tapes from the courthouse, various police cruisers, and the embassy. Short, rapid fire clips showed Trowa roaring out of nowhere on a huge motorcycle to free Quatre from the police escort at the courthouse and Quatre's leap onto the bike. There were a few grainy shots of them ripping though city streets, and then a very clear shot of the pair gracefully vaulting the embassy wall. Duo laughed out loud at Trowa's parting shot to the cops as he tossed them some tickets.   
  
"Holy mother loving shit! He can be such an arrogant prick! Makes it even hotter that you tapped that, huh?"  
  
But Heero was frowning. "Quatre pushed off on his good leg when he jumped the wall, but that's still a very strenuous series of events. I wonder if he refractured anything?"  
  
"The lower gravity probably helped, not to mention adrenaline. You and I both did more with worse injuries than that, ya know." Heero gave him a look and Duo shrugged. "OK, so we can't compare anyone to you, Super Soldier, but I got through a lot of shit and I wasn't modified, just tough. Kat is, too. Remember how he kept fighting, after that Catalonia bitch skewered him on Libra? Don't worry, Heero, Kat's tough, and he's got Trowa there to look after him."  
  
The scene on screen changed to an interior shot at the embassy. Behind the dapper GNN reporter, they could make out a large courtyard filled with palm trees and flowers.   
  
_"This is Jack Cotter reporting live from the L-3 embassy here in New Riyadh. Despite L-4 government attempts to restrict our presence here, the ambassador, Walter Sorenson, has granted open access to the press. In just a moment I'll be broadcasting an exclusive live interview with former Gundam pilots and circus innovators Quatre Winner-Barton and Trowa Barton-Winner, now cast in the role of star crossed lovers. As we reported earlier, a colonial high court attempted to rescind Quatre's emancipation, which in turn calls into question not only his citizenship, but also his civil union. Sources close to the Raberba Winner family have maintained for some time now that the Winner heir, youngest of his family, was not mentally competent to make such legal commitments, and that he should undergo treatment for mental illness. Earlier today, the judge attempted to make him a ward of the court and to undergo observation to establish once and for all his mental state.  
  
"Winner-Barton's lawyer, Isobel Cardoza, immediately issued the following statement on her client's behalf: I, Quatre Raberba Winner-Barton, citizen of L-3 Colony and the Earth Sphere United Nation, declare myself a political prisoner of the government of L-4 colony. I declare that all efforts to detain me on L-4 are done against my will, and in direct conflict with ESUN law."_  
  
"Damn straight!" Duo yelled at the screen. "Where the fuck do they get off, calling him crazy?"  
  
Heero fended off Duo's braid, which was whipping slowly but dangerous at his face in the zero-g of the shuttle. "He did have a breakdown."  
  
"Who didn't? But he's OK now, and he was fine at the end of the war, when he got emancipated. He was saner than any of the rest of us, except maybe Trowa. This is so goddamn fucked up!"  
  
"Hold on. There they are."  
  
The vid showed Quatre and Trowa in a tastefully appointed, very modern reception room. Quatre was lying on a white leather chaise, still impeccably dressed in his suit and tie, but his right leg was incased in an orange pressure splint. He looked pale and a little glassy-eyed. Trowa was a grim black clad presence beside him. On a sofa nearby sat three young, impeccably dressed women who had to be some of Quatre's sisters. They all had the same pale blond hair, blue eyes, and gentle, attractive features.   
  
"Kat told me once that he was the only natural born in the family," Duo remarked, staring at them. "Looks like Mommy and Daddy used the same recipe for the test tube babies. Pretty, though. Good thing for Kat Tro isn't into girls. Man, 03 doesn't look too happy, does he?"  
  
"Hn." Heero could care less about the sisters. His attention was focused on Quatre. "He did hurt himself. He appears to have been given pain medication, too."  
  
The reporter took a chair beside the chaise and the camera zoomed in on the five of them.  
  
_"I'm here with Quatre and Trowa, as well as three of Quatre's sisters who were not involved in the competency hearing. This is Maia, Jasmine, and Qualla. Thanks for speaking with us. I know this is a difficult time for all of you. First of all, Quatre, what happened to your leg?"  
  
"Well, as you know, I was seriously hurt in early December when a bomb went off at our home in New Orleans," Quatre replied, lucid but a little dazed. "I've been undergoing rapid heal therapies of various sorts, including regen, and it's been going well, but I'm afraid I wasn't quite up to the kind of activity it took for us to get here. I refractured it coming down off the wall outside."   
  
"I'm holding the L-4 government responsible for this," Trowa said, his voice soft but deadly. "He was forced here by the most frivolous of lawsuits, and then illegally detained, forcing the strategic extraction you witnessed."  
  
"And you didn't want to go through legal channels, Trowa? It was rather dramatic."_  
  
"Fuck that!" Duo muttered, twisting his braid.  
  
_Trowa sneered, too. "'Legal channels' put him in jeopardy in the first place, trumped up charges that lured him back so his relatives could have him committed. It had to be here, of course. No other court in the Earth sphere would have handed down such an egregious ruling. Quatre was shanghaied, and I had no reason to imagine that legal forces here would be of any help. As soon as the judge handed down that ruling, he was forcibly taken away. He was not allowed to communicate with me or anyone else, and his lawyer was not allowed to accompany him. I had no choice but to believe that Quatre would be held in secret, with no way for anyone to act as advocate for him. I could not allow that to happen."  
  
"Was that your assessment of the situation, Quatre?"  
  
"Absolutely. Homosexuality is still classed as a mental illness here. Treatments for it include electroshock and hormone therapy, mind altering drugs, harsh aversion techniques, and other highly controversial methods. I very much feared I might not be the same person when I emerged from all that, especially since the only people who would have any say over the treatment I would be given would be the very people who had me locked up in the first place. As Gundam pilots, Trowa and I were both trained to make quick situation assessments, and to act on them. Fortunately Trowa was able to extract me before I disappeared."  
  
"Did either of you have any inkling that this could be a possible outcome of the hearing?"  
  
"I was personally assured that it was going to be nothing more than an advisory hearing," Quatre replied, and a wounded look came into those big blue eyes. "Compulsory custody was never mentioned. However, I had every reason to believe that this was the outcome my uncle and sister were trying for, and so Trowa and I did have a contingency plan in place. It's a good thing, too, or I wouldn't be talking with you right now, I'm sure. My lawyer and some of my sisters are already assessing what criminal charges I can bring against them and the L-4 government, under ESUN and L-3 law."  
  
"L-3 law?"  
  
"I have been an L-3 citizen since '96. The court here is playing very dirty and underhanded tricks. In order to overturn my emancipation and marriage, not to mention my change of citizenship, they first have to prove me incompetent, and to do that they had to lock me up with L-4 doctors who would play along. Nowhere else in the Earth Sphere Union would anyone try to make that claim. I will fight this as hard as any battle during the war. My life is on the line here, together with everything Trowa and I have built together. We're supposed to be in New York right now, setting up the new Circus Della Notte performances there. We're already in the red, thanks to the bombing. This delay is costing us thousands as we sit here."  
  
"We will be suing for damages," Trowa put in. "We have every intention of making this as costly and embarrassing as possible for everyone who has taken part in this farce."  
  
The reporter turned to Quatre's sisters. "Jasmine, I believe you speak for the part of the family filing a countersuit on Quatre's behalf?"  
  
"That is correct," the blonde woman in the middle replied. "Quatre has made every effort to reconcile with the rest of the family, even going so far as to offer up his shares of WEI. This is clearly a vendetta against him, because of his unconventional relationship with Trowa."  
  
"But you have no problem with that relationship?"  
  
"What one wishes for a loved one, and what makes them truly happy are not always the same thing. Trowa Barton has proven himself to be a good and honorable young man. We bear him no ill will. He and Quatre have made a good life together."  
  
"We grew alarmed for Quatre's safety when we learned that we would not be allowed to testify on his behalf at today's hearing," Maia added. "We also believe we have substantial evidence of judiciary impropriety in the proceedings. We are fully prepared to pursue any avenue necessary, and, I might add, we have very deep pockets and good connections to do exactly that."  
  
"That sounds almost like a threat, Ms. Winner."  
  
Maia demurred charmingly, even while her eyes went hard. "We are not vindictive, just committed to protecting our only brother."_  
  
"Wow, you can tell she's related to him. She's going Zero on their asses!" Duo noted happily.   
  
The interview wrapped up and then Wufei appeared on the screen, speaking live with a GNN affiliate in Sanque.   
  
_"I am outraged," he said, looking exactly that. "Quatre Winner-Barton is not only perfectly sane, but one of the kindest, most honorable, and most generous people I have ever met. The same is true of his husband, Trowa. I cannot believe that this level of bigotry still exists in the Earth Sphere. It is shameful!"  
  
"You yourself are gay, are you not, Captain Chang?" the interviewer asked.  
  
Wufei favored him with a withering look. "All the Gundam pilots are, as you well know, as well as many other suit pilots. It was a factor in our selection, a strength. To see Quatre treated in this--this medieval fashion, after all he's done, both as a pilot and a private citizen? It's beyond me to understand."_  
  
"Man, he's come a long way, hasn't he?" said Duo. "He just looked that guy in the eye and said, "yeah, I'm gay" like he wanted him to try and make something out of it. Fuck, I wish he had. I bet 05 would have decked him!"  
  
"I'm not sure that would have helped." The coverage had gone back to a rehash of the dramatic motorcycle escape. Heero found the remote and killed the sound. "I'm glad that all of Quatre's family is not all like Fatima and this uncle. Quatre's family is very important to him. It would hurt him terribly to be estranged from all of them."  
  
Duo squeezed his hand. "Good thing for you I'm not jealous. You really love him, don't you?"  
  
Heero hugged him close. "No more than you do, and considering what happened in Tokyo---"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just don't see you going all warm and fuzzy like this over Tro, that's all."  
  
Heero shrugged. "I love Trowa, too. It's just different with him and me. I can't explain it. But you're still--"  
  
Duo stopped him with a kiss. "I know, baby."  
  
Heero felt all of Duo's pent up tension in that kiss, and knew it had nothing to do with the Tokyo event. He and Heero were both fiercely protective of their friends, and frustrated at being so helpless for the next few hours do to anything to help them. Duo was really wound up. He was tired and stressed from not sleeping; his body was tense all over and he was currently strangling his braid. Heero rescued it and captured Duo's hand, studying his profile carefully. Duo's eyes were hard, his jaw working as he clenched his teeth. "What's our ETA?"  
  
"Three and a half hours, or thereabouts. I'm still waiting on the touchdown OK from New Riyadh Shuttle port, though. They may not let us in."  
  
"Oh, I think they will." Heero pulled Duo into his lap and reached for his belt buckle. "Three hours is a long time with nothing to do, and we haven't slept in over forty eight hours. I think we could both benefit from some stress relief and a nap."  
  
Duo gave him an incredulous look and tried to twist away. "Now? No, Heero, we should be monitoring the news or--I don't know! Something!"  
  
Heero held him fast. "Wufei assured me everything is going according to plan on their end. There's nothing to be gained by torturing yourself, Duo. I need you clear when we get there. You need to relax."  
  
Duo sat stiffly in his arms, looking ready to argue, but Heero tightened his grip on him, making it clear that he wasn't going anywhere. It worked. Duo relaxed slightly and kicked off his boots, sending them slowly spinning across the cabin. "Stress release? As in some zero g nookie?"  
  
"Unless you'd rather be spanked."  
  
Duo looked mildly tempted, but shook his head, giving Heero a sly, sidelong look. "I take it I'm not the only one who'd stressed?"  
  
"Well, it has been several days since we've had time to think about it," Heero reminded him, slipping a hand into Duo's now open fly and easing the erection out to stroke it. "I can't even remember what color your toenails are painted today."  
  
Floating above Heero's lap now, Duo wiggled out of his jeans and yanked off his socks, showing off the tawny gold nails in question. Quatre had painted a purple lightening bolt on each big toe, too.   
  
"Very nice," Heero said, grabbing a foot and letting Duo float free of his lap as he kissed his toes. "I don't want to show up with semen floating everywhere, so I hope you're in the mood to swallow."   
  
Duo licked his lips and leered at Heero, braid coiling sinuously around his head as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it float away, leaving him in nothing but his choker and jewelry. "And just when am I not?   
  
With a low growl, Heero unbuckled his seatbelt and discarded his own clothing. Floating above the leather couch, cradled in the nothingness of space, they held each other close and sucked each other off.   
  
The sex was very good and had the desired effect. Heero strapped them down together in a bunk and set the alarm for an hour. Duo was already asleep, and Heero soon followed. When they woke up again, he felt more relaxed and clear headed than he had in twenty-four hours, and Duo looked better, too.  
  
"What are you grinning about?" Duo asked as they retrieved their floating clothing. Getting dressed in zero g had its challenges, particularly if you weren't tethered down. Duo was currently struggling into his pants upside down.  
  
Heero shrugged, already in mission mode. "I'm glad we didn't oversleep. You better brush your teeth."  
  
+  
  
They were cleared to land, but a squad of airport security and local police met them as they emerged from the pressurized gangway into the main reception area, barring their way.   
  
They weren't the only ones, however. Wufei had alerted the local media of their arrival, and word had spread. A huge crowd, many of them close to Heero's age or younger, had assembled behind the police line. There were lots of signs. Some weren't too welcoming, but others had slogans like "Free Quatre!", "Leave the G-Boys Alone!", and "End Sexual Discrimination in Space!"  
  
A police captain came forward to meet them, backed up by a dozen armed men. It looked like they were expecting trouble. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to return to your shuttle, gentlemen."  
  
"Why?" Heero asked, icy calm. "We are ESUN citizens and we've broken no laws."  
  
"You've been designated as political undesirables."  
  
"Undesirables? Since when?" Duo demanded, loud enough for the nearby reporters to hear. "In case you've forgotten, we fought to save your sorry asses, not so long ago. Are you telling me you guys are turning your backs on us again? What is this, 195? We're just here to support our friends, who are being illegally detained here, and we ain't budging until we see for ourselves that they're all right!"  
  
The crowd was eating it up, along with the press. A cheer went up in support of Duo's words. Then someone there started chanting "Libra! Libra! Libra!"  
  
Others took up the rallying cry, trying to surge forward and break the police line. It might have turned ugly then, if a large force of Preventers in riot gear hadn't shown up, with Sally Po and Une herself in the lead.  
  
The agents fanned out, reinforcing the police line, but Sally and Une strode over and took on the police chief.  
  
"Just what the hell is going on here, Captain?" Une demanded, in full hard assed bitch mode, Duo was glad for once to see. "Why are these men being detained?"  
  
"I have orders--" the man began, but she cut him off at the knees.  
  
"They are here under ESUN auspices, as part of a special Preventer investigation into the unlawful incarceration of Quatre Winner-Barton. You will release them at once! That order comes down directly from Relena Peacecraft, and I believe that overrides your previous orders, does it not?"  
  
The cop looked ready to chew glass, but he backed off. Duo gave Sally a wink as he and Heero fell in with them.  
  
The crowd cheered again and parted for them to leave. Dark vans were waiting and took them directly to the embassy.

"So we're Preventers again?" Heero said, sitting next to Une.  
  
"You're whatever Relena says you are, I guess," Una replied with a dour frown. "If this keeps up, I'm going to put you back on active duty."  
  
"Over my dead body," Duo growled.  
  
Heero nudged Duo's knee with his own and gave him a warning look. "What's the situation?"   
  
"No change so far," Sally told them. "Quatre is safe for now. The L-4 government doesn't have the authority to pull him out, unless they want to spark a real incident, but they're standing by the ruling. So far it's a political stalemate."  
  
"Has Relena made a statement yet?" asked Heero.  
  
"No, she wanted to wait until we're in place. But our orders are to get them both out with no violence."  
  
"Kinda ironic, isn't it?" said Duo.  
  
"How so?" asked Une.  
  
"Well, Relena's not exactly gay friendly, but now she's got to pull strings to protect their rights."  
  
"That's not the real issue here. L-4 has been a thorn in the side since the formation of the ESUN. When their laws conflict with ESUN policy, they claim they're being oppressed."  
  
"This kind of thing happens a lot?"  
  
"Often enough. It's a rich, powerful colony, and their trade is important to the Earth sphere economy. The Winner Corporation is a big part of that economy. This could be a real mess."  
  
"Quatre doesn't want any part of it. He just wants to be free to live his own life."  
  
"Well, if he was some little nobody, that might not be such a problem, but he's not. Now we have to sort this out without causing a major incident."  
  
+  
  
A huge crowd had gathered around the embassy and the police were out in full riot gear. In addition to those either supporting or condemning Quatre, Duo saw signs calling for L-4 independence from the ESUN. This group appeared to be the largest, and jeered the Preventer vans as they approached the embassy gates. Bricks and stones were thrown, several of them smashing into the windshield of the van Duo and the others were in.  
  
"Fuck, this is serious!" Duo exclaimed, wishing he were armed.  
  
Une glared out at the crowd. "The agitators for colonial independence are clearly seizing on this incident for their own ends."  
  
They got inside the walls safely and the gates swung shut against the surging crowd. The reporters were waiting in force, and the question shouting was deafening as they emerged from the van.  
  
"This is totally fucked up!" Duo shouted before Heero could stop him. He wasn't out of control, though, just outraged.  
  
"Are you and Heero here to get him out?" a reported asked.  
  
"We are here to support our friends," Heero interjected. "As you can see, the Preventers are involved, to make sure that this proceeds lawfully and without violence. Duo and I will do whatever we can to assist, but as I said, we are here mostly to support our friends. Quatre is hurt. He needs to go home, receive proper medical care, and rest. The sooner that happens, the better."  
  
"We are not leaving without our friends," Duo stated, standing shoulder to shoulder with Heero.   
  
Trowa met them at the front entry. His hair was over his eyes and his expression was guarded, but he touched them both on the arm and murmured, "Thanks for getting here so fast. Things really went to hell in a big way."  
  
"You were great!" said Duo, throwing an arm around his friend's waist in full view of the photographers.   
  
"It was a simple mission."  
  
"Quatre hurt his leg, though," said Heero.  
  
"Not during the escape. We were already on the ground here when he tripped over a sprinkler head in the garden and twisted his leg. It's only a hairline fracture, but he's really depressed about the setback to his recovery. He'll be glad to see you guys, though."  
  
He led them to the room where Quatre was resting. Trowa had remained grim and distant in front of the reporters and Une, but as soon as he'd gotten his friends into the room where Quatre was sleeping and shut everyone else out for a moment's privacy, he let Heero pull him into a brief hug.  
  
"How are _you_ holding up, 03?" Heero whispered, stroking his hair.  
  
"Fine. Better now that you guys are here." He hugged Heero, then went to Quatre, who was asleep on the chaise. The others followed.  
  
Duo leaned down and kissed Quatre softly on the forehead. Quatre's eyes fluttered open and he smiled.  
  
"Hey, Q-ball. How's it hanging?"  
  
"I'm a bit dopey, I'm afraid. I messed up my leg. So stupid!"   
  
"Yeah. Tro told us. Lousy luck."  
  
Quatre shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. "Just when I thought I was going to be able to perform again, too!"  
  
Trowa settled beside him and put an arm around his husband's shoulders. His touch was gentle, but here was murder in his eyes as he looked up at his friends. "I want to hurt them. Hurt them bad. This is so fucked!"  
  
"You got that right. We're going to get you out of here, one way or another," Duo assured him.   
  
There was a tap at the door just then. Une and Sally joined them and quickly debriefed them all.   
  
"Aside from your escape here, you've done nothing illegal," Une said. "That's good. You were wise not to use violence of any sort. As far as the world press is concerned, your actions were justified. I've spoken with Relena and she agrees."  
  
"I've prepared a report on the G-factor," Sally told them. "I just need your permission to use it."  
  
"Do you think that will do any good?" asked Heero. "It's common knowledge that we're gay."  
  
"I don't know, but I'm ready to throw anything at these narrow minded bastards." Sally's blue eyes were snapping with anger. "For Quatre, of all people, to be subjected to this! It's maddening."  
  
A uniformed Preventer knocked and came in. "It's time, Commander."  
  
There was a large television in the room and Trowa turned it on.   
  
_Relena stood at a podium in front of a large ESUN flag. She smiled at the reporters in the audience, but ignored the barrage of questions. They quieted and she looked up into the camera. "By now I'm sure you have all been following the situation on L-4. Quatre Raberba Winner-Barton and his domestic partner, Trowa Barton-Winner, have taken refuse in the L-3 embassy, after a court ruling that sought to overturn several important legal events. The most serious of these is the challenge to the ESUN ruling which gave Quatre emancipated minor status after the war. It was the belief of the council and myself at the time that Quatre, and all the Gundam pilots, could not reasonably be considered minors, after their service and experiences during the war. In light of their dedication, it was the least we could do. Based on this ruling, Quatre chose to enter a civil union, and to change his citizenship, all his right under ESUN law.  
  
"The government and courts of L-4 have chosen to flout ESUN law, claiming that a colony has the right to deny an ESUN citizen his basic rights under ESUN law. I have met with the council and it was the unanimous opinion that this is in direct opposition to the spirit of the Earth Sphere United Nations, and sets a dangerous precedent. The Earth Sphere was established specifically to end the conflict created by individual governments. While we respect the individuality of each country and colony, in issues of basic human rights, ESUN law must take precedence. Therefore, it is the ruling of the ESUN human rights court that Quatre Winner-Barton's emancipation, and all legal actions after that event, be upheld and maintained. He is to be allowed to leave L-4 at once. If the colonial government or court refuses to release him, they will face heavy sanctions. I have authorized Commander Lady Une and the Preventers to conduct him safely back to Earth." She paused, letting the photographers capture her look of sad dismay. "On a personal note, I would like to add that in my opinion, Quatre has been very badly abused. He has been a true friend, not only to me, but to the entire Earth Sphere. I am most distressed that members of his own family would choose to treat him in this ignoble fashion. Are we so quick to forget his sacrifices, and the terrible hardships he endured to protect the very colony that has now sought to take away his freedom? Is it right that he and Trowa should be treated like children, or criminals, and deprived of the very rights they fought to protect for the rest of us? This cannot be allowed. We must be willing to embrace the differences between us, rather than letting them divide us."_  
  
"Way to go, 'lena!" Duo crowed.   
  
Heero nodded. "That couldn't have been easy for her, considering how she feels about our sexuality."  
  
"This wasn't about that," Une told him. "This is about the law, and the sovereignty of the ESUN. If L-4 is allowed to override ESUN rulings like this, then it opens the door to every other nation who wants to reassert their national policy. The ESUN is too new to allow it. However, I do think she's beginning to get used to the idea that you're all gay. You can probably thank Zechs for that. He's made it very clear that if she forces him to choose between her and Wufei, she will lose. I have it on good authority that the Sanque Parliament is planning to uphold their marriage without sanction."  
  
"That's good news," said Quatre. "That's all been hard enough on Wufei, without an entire government opposing his happiness."  
  
Trowa kissed him. "And you'd know, meli. I'm going to get you out of here and we are never setting foot on this fucking tin can again."  
  
"They're not all against us," Quatre reminded him, leaning against Trowa's chest. "You saw the signs this morning. There are a lot of lovers just like us here, who want freedom, and people who are tired of the old ways. I think this will do them all some good."  
  
"You are too kind hearted sometimes, mio amore," Trowa murmured, still too angry to think in those terms.  
  
Things were quiet for a while, then the L-3 ambassador and Quatre's sisters came in to join them.   
  
"I have mixed news, I'm afraid," Ambassador Sorenson told Quatre. "The L-4 government has agreed to uphold your emancipation and let you leave. However, your sister and uncle have invoked a clause in the WEI corporate charter. Only citizens of L-4 can hold controlling shares of the company. By maintaining your off colony citizenship, you are relinquishing your rights in the company. Because this is corporate law, there is little ESUN can do to prevent it. It is legal under the corporate charter."  
  
"I'm aware of that, and I expected as much," Quatre replied, resigned.   
  
"It's not fair!" said Duo. "They still get to push you out!"  
  
"It's all right, Duo. I expected as much, and I'm OK with it. I'd already offered to give up my shares, anyway. But it's also in the charter rules that my shares be distributed equally to the other members of the family. That will keep things even. Fatima and my uncle are no more in control of the company than they were before."  
  
"That will change, if I have my way," said Jasmine. "This has played out terribly for the company in the press. Stock prices for WEI are plummeting. Many people don't want to do business with a company that discriminates on this level. I think that will give me the leverage I need to push Fatima out."  
  
"You do whatever you want. I'm just glad to be out of it. And this means they can't pursue any of those absurd criminal charges against Trowa, either."  
  
"What charges?" asked Duo.  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"Fraud," Trowa told him. "Statutory rape. Contributing to the delinquency of a minor."  
  
Duo sputtered, beyond words.  
  
"These charges cannot be pursued, can they?" Heero asked, looking to Une.  
  
"It was all predicated on Quatre's competency and L-3 statutes regarding the age of consent. That's all moot now."  
  
"It's still a matter of public record, though," Trowa murmured.  
  
"Forget it, love," Quatre told him firmly.   
  
"The charter requires that you be paid fair market value for your shares," Maia reminded him. "You will still be very well off." Quatre started to object, but she held up a hand. "No, you will take the money. It is yours by right. Father would want you to have it. I know you will do good things with it."  
  
Quatre sighed, then smiled up at Trowa. "Looks like we won't have to move back to that smelly little L-3 trailer, after all."  
  
Trowa kissed him. "No danger of that. The New York show is sold out, even with the delays, and London and Paris still want us, not to mention L-2 and L-3. We may have to add show dates to all of them. And of course, we have our strong silent partner." He smiled over at Heero. "We're going to be fine."  
  
"The press is asking for a statement," the ambassador said.  
  
Quatre groaned and sagged against Trowa. "I'm so tired! Can we just let one in, please? That guy, Cotter, he's OK. You guys can do most of the talking."  
  
Une touched a hand to the small com earphone she was wearing. "Excuse me, will you? I need to check security."  
  
The GNN reporter and his cameraman were summoned, and Quatre endured the quick set up with poorly concealed weariness.  
  
Cotter gave the lead in, then turned to Quatre, now sitting up, but still leaning on Trowa. Heero and Quatre sat beside them. Quatre's sister Jasmine sat on his other side, on hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You must all be very relieved at the outcome," Cotter said.  
  
"We are, Jack," Trowa replied. "Quatre and I are very grateful to Relena Peacecraft and the ESUN council for doing the right thing."  
  
"Quatre, I see you were hurt in the escape. How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm very tired and my leg hurts," Quatre replied, and then stopped as his voice threatened to break. Trowa tightened an arm around him as he fought for control and Jasmine stroked his hair. Quatre blinked hard, fighting tears. "This has been very difficult. Very difficult. I am so glad to have the support of some of my sisters, and my friends. I am glad that ESUN law has come down on the side of human rights over tradition bound bigotry. All I want now is to go home and get back to work. There's an old circus saying: the show must go on. And it will. Oh, and one other thing." He took Trowa's hand and his sisters, holding them tightly in his lap. "I've been thinking about this for a while now, and all that's happened today has made up my mind. From now on, I'll be going by the name Barton, my married name. I mean no disrespect to my family but the Winner name has too much pain attached to it now. Besides--" he managed a smile. "The whole Winner-Barton, Barton-Winner business was just too cumbersome. This will be easier for everyone, including you journalists. And now, if you don't mind, I want to go home."  
  
Cotter thanked them all and left.   
  
As soon as he was gone, Trowa turned to Quatre. "Meli, are you sure that's what you want? At least Winner was a real name, yours by right. Barton is just a name I stole!"  
  
"You've always been Trowa Barton to me," Quatre told him, still holding his hand and his sister's. "Jasmine, I hope you're not hurt. But you and Qualla both took your husband's names when you got married. I just wanted to do the same."  
  
Jasmine kissed him again. "You will always be our little brother Quatre, no matter what your last name is. Nothing will change that. You have my blessing, at least."  
  
"And ours, my darling," Qualla assured him. "But Trowa, you must try and take better care of him! First a bomb, and now this! We thought such times were past for you two."  
  
"I will, I promise," Trowa said, giving her a genuine, unguarded smile. "I'll spend the rest of my life doing exactly that."  
  
"Quatre Barton, eh?" said Duo. "Yeah, that'll be easier to say. And it suits you, especially since it looks like you two are still married all legal and tight."  
  
"Until death do us part," said Quatre. "Now can I _please_ get out of here before anyone changes their minds?"  
  
Une came in again with an armed escort and she looked unhappy again. "There may be trouble. The pro-colony factions aren't very happy with the ESUN ruling. The protests are growing all over the city. I've called for a chopper. I don't want to chance getting caught in a crowd on the street.  
  
"I see," said Heero. "Duo and I came unarmed, but I think it might be better if you provided us with weapons."  
  
"And me," said Trowa. That deadly look was back in those green eyes.  
  
Une provided them each with a pistol and a small automatic rifle and they acted as close escort as Quatre was carried up to the helipad on the roof on a stretcher.  
  
They lifted off without incident, but looking down, Duo could see the crowd gather thickly outside the embassy, and the scuffles that were already breaking out there with police.   
  
The shuttle port was mobbed. The chopper set down inside the security fence on the private strip where the Preventer shuttle was docked.   
  
"What in the world is going on?" Quatre asked, trying to sit up.  
  
"It's all right, meli. We're almost there."  
  
They were within sight of the gangway when an explosion rocked the docking bay and a ball of flame blossomed from the side of the huge armored shuttle. The concussion threw them all off their feet.  
  
The Gundam pilots were the first on their feet, closing in tightly around Quatre with weapons drawn.   
  
"What the hell happened?" growled Trowa, shielding Quatre with his own body.  
  
Une listened to her earpiece, face darkening ominously. "God damn it! It was only a shoulder mount rocket, and the shooter was taken down, but the shuttle is disabled. I'm sorry, Quatre, but it looks like you're going to have to wait."  
  
"No fucking way!" Trowa exclaimed angrily.   
  
"That's probably just what they want," said Duo. "Look, Heero and I came up in a fast shuttle. I can get us out of here. You just get us over to our ship."  
  
"Is your ship armed?" asked Une.  
  
"Armed? No, of course not. It's a civilian charter. But I can out fly any pursuit. Just watch me!"  
  
"It's too risky."  
  
"It is more risky to remain here," said Heero. "If they could get a rocket launcher through port security and get close enough to a Preventer ship to hit it, then I think we should not underestimate their intentions toward Quatre. He is not safe here." He brought his weapon up, not pointing directly at Une, but the message was clear. "With all due respect, Commander, I think we are better prepared to protect him than you are. We are taking him out of here, with or without your help."  
  
"Get that weapon out of my face, Yuy. Of course we'll help you. Come on!"  
  
The Preventer squad kept close around them as they ran down the shuttle port concourse to the private shuttle bay where they'd left the Zoroaster. A smaller contingent of protesters had gathered outside the airlock. Duo and Trowa fired warning shots over their heads and they scattered, screaming.   
  
With Heero in the lead, they hurried Quatre into the prep area. Heero and Duo went ahead and swept the shuttle for potential sabotage, but it appeared that the terrorists had overlooked their ship, concentrating their efforts on the Preventer's arrival.   
  
Une helped get Quatre safely on board and Trowa strapped him into the bunk. "I wish I could offer you an armed escort in space. Are you sure you'll be all right?"  
  
"Hey, it's me flying, right?" Duo scoffed.   
  
"We'll be fine," Heero said. "Now get the hell out and make sure we have security on the ground in New Orleans. We'll need an armored transport, and security forces standing by at New Orleans general. I want a 24-hour guard on the house, too. Can you give us that?"  
  
"Yes. You'll have everything you need. Now you better dust off. Good luck, boys. We'll talk about you and Duo coming to work for me later."  
  
Heero saw her out and sealed the hatch. "Not too fucking likely," he growled.   
  
"Get us out of here, 02," said Trowa, strapping into the seat closest to Quatre.  
  
Heero took the co pilot's chair as Duo powered up and blasted off. They met no resistance as they left the colony bay, but he flew like a madman anyway, taking evasive action just in case. Within minutes the colony was far behind them. He remained at the controls as Heero unstrapped and floated back to check on the others.   
  
"How are you doing, Mr. Barton?"  
  
"Just fine," two voices answered as one.


	103. Birthday Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm  
> \--  
> Heero's first birthday, G-boy style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_Sanque_  
  
Restricted as he was by his slow recovery, Wufei spent far more time than he might otherwise following his friends in the news.  
  
Safely back on Earth and protected by a number of legal injunctions, Quatre and Trowa went back to work, preparing for the delayed New York opening. Duo and Heero were involved, as well, but all four of them were smugly silent on the nature of that involvement. One of them called him every day but the two topics he was most interested in--the legal proceedings and the new acts--were strictly off limits. He had to learn from the news vids that Quatre had distanced himself completely from the ESUN suit against L-4, and that the trial regarding Quatre's brief and aborted custody on his home colony would not come up for months. Speculation and rumor were rife, however, and Wufei suspected--and Heero finally privately confirmed--that Quatre's uncle and sister were leaking all the dirt they could to the press in hopes of shifting public opinion. The favorite of the tabloids was that the four of them were involved in some sort of perverse four-way orgy scenario. This one troubled Wufei the most because it seemed the most likely to be true. He'd witnessed for himself the sharing of beds, intense physical intimacy, and displays of affection between them. A year earlier he might have been scandalized. Now he only worried that it might hurt Quatre in court.  
  
He had concerns of his own to distract him, however. Zechs was still treating him like he was made of spun glass. Despite Wufei's stubborn adherence to daily physical therapy routines and attempts at simple katas, he was still very weak, and tired easily. Zechs fussed over him constantly, and had a doctor come in daily to examine him. There was no denying the fact that Wufei was recovering more slowly than expected.  
  
Zechs was tender, patient, and very attentive, but would not make love to him except for the occasional oral sex and caresses. Wufei ached for more, and feared losing ground that they'd gained in New Orleans.  
  
The paparazzi had lurked like vultures outside the gates of Zech's estate ever since their return, but caught only shots of Zechs coming and going. Wufei remained hidden away inside. The last thing Chang Wufei wanted was pictures of him being carried around like some invalid or falling on his face. And he would rather face torture, he secretly admitted to himself, than ever have it get out to the public-or his friends-- how much he secretly loved the way Zechs pampered him in private, even without real sex. Zechs had had that effect on him from the start. He still insisted on bathing with Wufei in the huge marble bathtub in their private master bath. He chose Wufei's clothing and helped him dress, and assisted in his therapy when needed. In return for Wufei enduring it all without complaint, he joined him for his meditation sessions and was beginning to get the hang of it.  
  
Wufei found he needed the calming effects of meditation more than ever now. In part, to hold at bay the frustration of his physical state, but also to quell his pointless worry over Zechs' appearance at Parliament.  
  
He knew in his heart that whatever the politicians decided, he and Zechs would be together, but it pained him to think that Zechs' love for him might cost him in any way. He carried the guilt of his past, and a public rejection would only throw new light on it. There were still armed guards all over the estate, and Wufei knew there was still hate mail coming in, despite recent positive press. Some of it was addressed to him now, too, but Zechs had assigned a special task force to handle all of that sort of mail for both of them. Wufei was satisfied with this arrangement; he cared nothing for the opinions of strangers and didn't want Zechs seeing that sort of thing, either.  
  
Wufei ached for his wounded lover. There was little he could do except to recover as quickly as possible, and he pushed himself as hard as he could each day.  
  
"I will be strong again," he vowed each day as he sweated and strained through therapy.  
  
+  
  
_New Orleans: January 7, 199 AC._  
  
Duo and Heero had slept with Trowa and Quatre in the big bed every night since their return from L-4. No one talked about it; they just did. Heero didn't mind, for the most part, and Duo didn't seem to, either. Everyone was so glad to have Quatre safely back that they all stayed close to him whenever they could and at night it was easiest, the only debate being who had slept beside him last. Duo was as affectionate and effusive with him as ever, still, Heero thought he caught a fleeting glimpse of some other, more guarded emotion in those eyes when Duo thought he wasn't looking. When he tried to ask him about, Duo just smiled and kissed him and changed the subject.  
  
At Quatre's insistence, they had also immediately gone to work on the circus acts, and Trowa was a tough taskmaster. While Quatre and Duo pondered new costumes and masks, Trowa spent hours in the workout room with Heero, exploring ideas for an act. As much as Heero hated J, he had to admit that the physical alterations he'd made to Heero's body were a continuing advantage. His bullet wounds had healed as quickly as ever and his strength was already back, while Duo was still tender around his wounds and moving more slowly. Trowa was teaching them both yoga, and the stretching was taking care of the last of the lingering effects of scar tissue and trauma.  
  
Heero was still going to the hospital twice a week for light treatments and blood work, to monitor his mental recovery. Dr. Batoosingh was delighted with his progress and Heero felt good, really good, despite the recovery of the dark memories from his time in Kisarazu. The doctors believed it was because of the treatments. Heero didn't deny that they were helping, but secretly credited much of his recovery to the fact that he'd killed the men who'd hurt him, and tried to hurt Duo. He had no regrets. Perhaps that was due to some flaw in him, or some lingering effect of J's conditioning. He'd examined this in his own mind repeatedly, like running a new program to check for bugs, but felt nothing but the familiar satisfaction of a completed mission.  
  
He even brought it up to Dr. Batoosingh in their first session after their return from L-4.  
  
"I don't feel any guilt about killing those men," he confessed, then watched Batoosingh closely for a reaction.  
  
As usual, the doctor showed no alarm at such a statement. Instead, he asked, "Have you felt that sort of violence toward anyone else since the war ended?"  
  
"You mean besides whoever I might have hurt during my fugue state?" There were still gaps in his memory there.  
  
"Since you returned to Duo."  
  
"My friends tell me that I sometimes look as if I'm going to hurt someone, strangers mostly, who get too close to Duo. I sometimes still feel hyper vigilant, and perhaps overly protective." He paused, thinking of his early days back with his friends. "Perhaps a little paranoid at first, but nothing like I was just after the war."  
  
"Have you wanted to hurt anyone, Heero?"  
  
"I told you about the gay bashers in Provincetown. The ones who threatened us the night of our first date."  
  
"But you didn't hurt anyone, did you? You let Duo handle that."  
  
"He wanted to, and I knew he was capable."  
  
"So you were alert, armed, and ready for trouble, but you took no action."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And when you and Duo went to help your friends the other day, you were angry, but you didn't hurt anyone."  
  
"Yes. So it's just those men in Kisarazu, and I don't remember very much about that fight. Only the aftermath."  
  
Dr. Batoosingh smiled. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. Keep up with the treatments and meds for the depression and you should be fine. Your recovery has been remarkable, and despite all Dr. J did to you, you can still love and feel normal emotions, which in itself is remarkable, considering your past. By all rights, you should be a complete sociopath, but you're nothing of the kind."  
  
"Because of Duo."  
  
"No, Heero. Because of who you are. That's what allowed you to break your conditioning time and again, to feel friendship and love for him and the others. You are and always have been incredibly strong. Not even J could condition the heart out of you. You only needed an incentive to grasp it. That's where Duo and the others factor in." He paused and looked down at his notes. "You love them all very much, don't you? And I suspect the tabloids are not completely off base as to the nature of your relationship with them?"  
  
Heero tensed. "You're asking about polyamory, right? I-well, I suppose so, but--"  
  
"But Duo still comes first?"  
  
"Yes. I think the four of us have come to an understanding. We're all very important to each other, and we have been-well, intimate. But Trowa and Quatre belong together, and so do Duo and I. I'm not sure what's going to happen now. Duo and I talked about getting our own place, but with Quatre hurt and helping with the circus for now and all? I don't know."  
  
"Well, I hope for Duo's sake that you give this more thought."  
  
Heero looked up sharply. "Has he said something to you?"  
  
"Duo's sessions are confidential, Heero. You know that. But I suspect you already know how he feels."  
  
Heero sighed. "I'm not sure I do. He really loves them, and he's glad that I do, too. But there's still something there he can't seem to tell me."  
  
"Keep that in mind, Heero, and work on that with him as gently as you can. He's made enormous strides these past five months. More than I ever expected he would. But he's still emotionally fragile, though he's desperate not to let anyone know it. If he lost you, I think he would very quickly lose all the ground he's gained. In time, he may become strong enough to exist on his own, but he hasn't reached that point yet."  
  
"Is his dependence on me unhealthy?"  
  
"Between other couples I've treated, I would say yes. But you two are a special case in just about every sense of the word. Duo is textbook dysfunctional, but you? I've never met anyone quite like you. If anyone can heal him, it's you, and only you. How do you feel about that?"  
  
"Honored."  
  
Batoosingh smiled again. "Well then, just keep doing whatever it is you're doing and trust your judgment." He glanced over at the clock. "Our hour's up. Anything else?"  
  
"No. You've given me much to think about."  
  
"Good. Don't worry, Heero, you're on the right track. Oh, and happy birthday! It is tomorrow, isn't it?"  
  
Heero felt himself coloring. "How did you know that?"  
  
"Duo mentioned it after his session yesterday. This is your first since you chose a day, isn't it?"  
  
Heero nodded. He'd forgotten all about it, and Duo and the others hadn't said a thing. Heero had little concept of birthdays, except how they'd celebrated Trowa's and Wufei's, and he didn't expect anything that elaborate for himself. Duo certainly couldn't afford to buy him a house.  
  
He pushed such thoughts aside as he rode home in a cab, more concerned with what Batoosingh had told him about Duo, and what had happened in the big hotel bed on Earth Fall eve. If Heero hadn't been so drunk and high that night, perhaps he would have stopped the others before things went so far.  
  
//Trust my judgment.// Heero frowned as he stared out the window. Had he that night, or had he been selfish, letting himself go and not protecting Duo's feelings? Trowa and Quatre were good friends, but they were different--wilder and more secure in their relationship after all these years.  
  
Batoosingh's assessment of Duo was unsettling. Duo really did seem his old self again, but now Heero knew his past, and how much of that "old self" had been a mask to hide so many wounds. Not that any of them could be called normal, but only Duo had lived with long term abuse, all the way back to his childhood. Even Trowa had been better treated than Duo had, and it didn't occur to Heero to compare his own past to theirs. Quatre and Wufei didn't even factor in to that equation. They'd had families and normal upbringings. No, his Duo had strengths and weaknesses all his own, forged in the hard days on L-2 streets and during the war. Heero hadn't been joking when he told the doctor he was honored to be the one Duo depended on. He'd committed to that mission months ago and now he felt a renewed sense of duty.  
  
//No, not duty,// he mentally amended, running his fingers through his hair. Nothing he felt toward Duo came from any sense of obligation. He loved him and everything else stemmed from that. All that he'd learned about Duo since his return helped him refine his methods of taking care of him, and those were as unique as his complex lover.  
  
Which brought him back to his concerns about their sleeping arrangements. He and Duo still had the room next door to withdraw to for privacy, but they hadn't used it in a long time, at least not at night. They were engaged, but almost immediately had sex with the others. Heero's stomach tightened into a guilty knot. Was Duo having second thoughts? Is that why they were making love less often since then?  
  
By the time the cab pulled up in front of the courtyard gate Heero had worked himself into a state of alarm, but he had a plan in place. He wasn't good with words, especially around important feelings, but he and Duo spoke the language of the body fluently. Duo was always honest with him, and never more so than in bed. He'd start there.  
  
He found the others just sitting down to lunch in the newly restored kitchen.  
  
Duo grinned and waved him to the empty chair. "Hey baby, you hungry? Marie made oyster po'boys--"  
  
That's as far as he got before Heero scooped him up from his chair and carried him out of the kitchen. Trowa let out a long wolf whistle behind them.  
  
"Looks like Heero has lunch plans of his own!" Quatre laughed.  
  
"Well, hello to you, too! What's up?" Duo grinned, wrapping his arms around Heero's neck he carried him up the back stairs.  
  
Heero just smiled in the way that made Duo nervous and took him to their own room and their own bed. Depositing him there, he locked the door and peeled off his shirt without unbuttoning it. "Strip, little mermaid." He pretended ease, but in reality he was watching Duo from the corner of his eye for a reaction. If Duo balked, it would give him an opening for dialogue.  
  
But he didn't. "Oooo. Orders, huh?" Duo gave him a heated look, and held Heero's gaze as they both shucked off their clothes.  
  
Heero stretched out beside Duo on the bed and kissed him deeply, running his hand over Duo's cheek and down his side, savoring the silky smoothness of his lover's skin.  
  
Already breathless, Duo stared up at him with apparent amusement. "So?"  
  
"I love you, Duo. More than anyone else." Heero tried to put all his feelings into those words as he cupped Duo's bare bottom in one hand and kissed the healing bullet holes on Duo's chest.  
  
Duo raised an eyebrow at his serious tone. "I know, baby. You're my one and only, too. Are you OK?"  
  
The knot in Heero's belly eased a bit. "Yes, I'm fine. I just want--Tell me, Duo, what do you need right now?"  
  
Duo grinned and ran a hand down Heero's belly to his half hard cock. "I was just about to ask you that."  
  
"What do you need?" Heero gave each hardened pink nipple a swirl of his tongue.  
  
"You're doing--just--fiiiine!"  
  
Heero kissed his way up Duo's chest to that sensitive spot at the side of his neck. Nibbling and licking there until Duo squirmed, he whispered, "Tell me exactly what you want. That's an order."  
  
"Oh baby!" Duo panted. "Tie--tie my hands to the headboard and have your way with me! Don't--don't want to know--just do it!"  
  
Heero leaned over the side of the bed and rummaged in the bottom drawer of their nightstand. Passing over several silk scarves he kept there, he chose instead a short length of silky rope. With a few quick, efficient turns, he wrapped Duo's wrists securely and lashed the loose ends to the headboard. Then he tugged Duo down the bed until his arms were stretched almost to the point of discomfort. Duo was already moaning, eyes squeezed shut, cock hard and weeping against his belly. So was Heero's.  
  
Letting instinct guide him, he went back for a scarf and blindfolded Duo.  
  
"Yeah!" Duo sighed. He was smiling, glowing, and arching his back wantonly. He needed this.  
  
"Duo, your safe word is 'north'. Repeat that back to me so I know you understand."  
  
"North," Duo sighed, clutching at the ropes.  
  
"Good." Heero knelt between his parted legs and slowly massaged his feet, raising them in turn to his lips and kissing each silver frosted toenail. Then he massaged his way up Duo's calves and thighs, circling his thumbs over the swollen ridge behind his tightening balls.  
  
Duo was moaning softly now. They'd only had sex once since the return from L-4, and that had been in the shower yesterday. Before that it had been the zero gee blow jobs.  
  
Heero slowly crawled up Duo's body. "Has your ass missed my cock, Duo?"  
  
"Oh yes!"  
  
"Do you need it? My cock in your tight, beautiful ass?"  
  
"Fuck, yes!"  
  
Heero slid slowly back down until his lips brushed the length of Duo's erection. "How do you want it?"  
  
"Any way you want!"  
  
Heero sat back on his heels, breaking all physical contact and watching as Duo strained against the ropes and wiggled his hips in frustration.  
  
After a moment he went still and licked his lips. "Just your cock. No prep. Slow and easy, then hard and deep."  
  
Satisfied, Heero retrieved the lube from the top drawer and covered his own erection generously. Duo heard and spread his legs wide, drawing his knees up. Heero slid a hand under his ass and lifted him easily to position a pillow under his hips. He heard Duo's quick gasp of anticipation.  
  
When he had Duo positioned to his liking, he moved closer and teased Duo's opening with the slick tip of his erection. The tight little pucker flexed, already loosening for him. Duo was still tight, but Heero had taken him so often like this that the muscles relaxed very quickly. Heero poured on more lube, careless of the sheets and slowly pressed forward. There was a moment of delicious resistance, then the head slipped through the first ring of muscle and Duo let out a long whine of pleasure and pain. Heero didn't stop, just slowly worked his cock in deeper.  
  
Duo clawed at the ropes--not to free himself, Heero knew, but to reassure himself that they were still tight, that he couldn't get free. Heero clutched Duo's hips and pulled him down on his cock, accentuating the sensation of being helpless. "Oh! Oh, yeah!" Duo groaned. "Take me, Heero. I want you!"  
  
Heero was in to the hilt now. Not giving Duo time to catch his breath, he drew out slowly, and then pushed back in with the same excruciating pace. Duo wrapped those long legs around Heero's waist, welcoming him in. "Yeah! Oh, Heero, so good!"  
  
"I'm going to fuck you hard now. Give me the safe word if you need to."  
  
Duo nodded, then yelped as Heero pulled out and dragged him sideways so his ass was at the edge of the mattress and his arms were stretched tight over his head. Grasping Duo's ankles, he pulled his legs into the air and spread them wide, keeping tension on the muscles. Bending his knees, he brought the tip of his erection back to Duo's exposed, stretched hole and slid in with one firm stroke.  
  
"Uh! Heero!"  
  
Tightening his grip on Duo's ankles he pulled his ass a few inches off the bed and started pounding his ass hard, giving it to him hot and heavy and angling to hit his prostate.  
  
Duo arched his back and screamed, startling Heero so badly he almost pulled out again.  
  
"Like that!" Duo cried, writhing in his grip. "Just like that!"  
  
Heero couldn't see his lover's eyes, but he saw the deep pink flush infusing Duo's fair chest and cheeks, and recognized that open mouthed grimace as a look of deepest pleasure. Bracing his feet, Heero used the considerable strength of his thighs to slam into Duo's ass, hard and fast and deep, giving Duo all his body asked for. It was dangerously close to rape, but Duo had his safe word and his trust. He could stop this any time he wanted. He chose to submit, and lost himself in it. Heero understood that now and moments like this didn't scare him like they once had. Instead, they filled him with a sense of love and power. He could give Duo what he needed most, and Duo would only ask it of him, no one else, not even their friends. That coiled the red heat in his balls and sent waves of almost painful pleasure through his entire body.  
  
Heero pulled those long, beautiful legs wider, watching Duo's dark, engorged cock dance and throb against his flat belly. He wished he could suck it for him right now, or have some one else do it--  
  
A sudden image of Quatre's head bobbing between them nearly sent him over the edge. He held back with an effort and cleared his mind. This was just for the two of them.  
  
Duo came hard, thrashing and wrenching at the ropes and screaming Heero's name and a string of profanity the likes of which Heero hadn't heard from him in months. His own orgasm was like an explosion between his legs and engulfed him like fire. He managed to stay on his feet until they were both spent and sobbing for breath. He withdrew his softening cock and gently moved Duo back on the bed to take the strain off his arms. He used a corner of the sheet to wipe the cum from Duo's belly and ass. The cloth came away from between his buttocks stained faintly pink, but Duo looked perfectly content. Heero untied him and massaged his over stretched biceps and shoulders. Duo moaned happily, apparently incapable of moving on his own. Heero sat back against the headboard and pulled Duo, still blindfolded, into his lap, cradling him against his chest.  
  
Duo snuggled under Heero's chin, melting into his embrace. "That was phenomenal!"  
  
"Yes!" Heero slowly stroked a hand up and down Duo's back and ran his fingers over the disheveled braid. Now would be the best time to talk, but Duo was fading fast.  
  
"You kinda jumped the gun, though," Duo chuckled.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, I was going to give you a special birthday present tonight, but now you're all worn out."  
  
Heero chuckled and hugged him close. "You know me better than that, little mermaid. Just give me a little while to recover and change the sheets."  
  
"Don' worry 'bout the sheets," Duo mumbled, already dozing off. "Got plans--"  
  
"Birthday plans?"  
  
But Duo was already asleep.  
  
+

They slept for a few hours, and Duo woke first and checked the clock. It was nearly four. Kicking himself for losing so much of the day, he rose up on one elbow and found Heero still deeply asleep.  
  
The sex had been amazing, even for Heero. It had meant something--something good, and Duo was still glowing all over. Propping his head on one hand, he watched Heero for a few more minutes, loving the sound of his lover's even breathing and the warmth of his skin. Heero's eyelashes were so thick and silky against his cheeks, almost like a girl's, but the body pressed close to his own had nothing feminine about it. Duo could feel the strength in his muscles even in sleep.  
  
"I love you, too, Heero Yuy, more than I can ever say. I'll love you forever, and not just for the sex," he whispered, gently tracing Heero's soft lips with the tip of one finger. Those dark blue eyes fluttered open and found him, drowsy and full of love. "Time to get ready, baby."  
  
"Ready for what?" Heero murmured.  
  
"You'll see! It's a surprise."  
  
Heero stretched and kissed him on the forehead, the wrinkled his nose. "Shower?"  
  
"Nope." Duo nuzzled under Heero's arm and inhaled deeply. "I like you smelling like me and sex." He moved lower and kissed the dark patch of hair just above Heero's half hard cock. "Mmmmm, yeah!"  
  
Grinning, he rolled off the bed and pulled on his discarded jeans, not bothering with underwear, and went to the door. "Time, guys!" he shouted, and heard an answering call from Trowa downstairs.  
  
"Duo, I-"  
  
Duo paused, sensing a bit of that strange air he'd noticed when Heero got home from the doc's. "Is something wrong, Heero? Did something weird come up with Dr. B?"  
  
Heero paused, then shook his head, smiling. "Nothing major."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"OK." Duo wasn't entirely convinced, but he could already hear the others coming up the stairs. Putting his concerns aside for later, he pulled a large, brightly wrapped box from under the bed. "Present time for the birthday boy."  
  
"You didn't have to!" Heero began, but Duo cut him off with a look.  
  
"I told you before, Heero. We're going to live like regular people now, with birthdays and anniversaries and presents and all that stuff."  
  
Duo was enjoying this and it looked like Heero was, too, though there was a suspicious glitter of moisture in his eyes. Duo sat down on the bed and kissed his eyelids, tasting the salt of unshed tears. "It's OK, Heero. You'll get used to it."  
  
Heero grabbed him and hugged him almost painfully tight just as Trowa and Quatre burst in. Trowa was carrying Quatre in his arms, and Kat was holding the present they'd brought, a large square box.  
  
Heero's eyes widened as he took in what they were wearing. They were both dressed in tight, ripped up jeans and dark tee shirts. Quatre had on his black leather collar and bondage cuffs with the worn steel rings, and his blue eyes were heavily outlined with kohl.  
  
Heero pulled the sheet up over his bare lap. "What's going on?"  
  
They just laughed and climbed onto the bed to join him. Trowa leaned over and sniffed him, then smirked. "You smell as good as you sounded."  
  
Duo elbowed his way between them, depositing the boxes on Heero's lap. The one from him, the largest, held a black leather biker jacket--the short kind with heavy zippers and a studded belt across the back. Trowa and Kat's held a shiny black helmet with a black visor.  
  
Heero stared at them a moment, then looked up to find the other's grinning at him. "I don't have a motorcycle."  
  
Duo grinned. "Look in the pocket."  
  
Heero felt in the pockets of the new jacket, and found the set of keys with a very distinctive emblem on them.  
  
"From all of us," Duo told him.  
  
"You didn't!"  
  
"Oh yes we did," Quatre laughed, kissing him on the cheek. "Since it's your first real birthday and all, we wanted to make it extra special. Get some clothes on and meet us down to the courtyard."  
  
He and Trowa went out, leaving Heero and Duo to pull on their clothes. Heero struggled into his discarded jeans and Duo tossed him a new black tee shirt with the same logo printed in white and orange on the front. Hero pulled it on with trembling hands and Duo helped him into the new jacket.  
  
"That's two leather jackets you've given me," Heero whispered huskily.  
  
"Take a hint, Heero. I love you in leather!" Duo said lightly, but inside he felt a bittersweet pang of deep affection; Heero had suffered every sort of physical abuse without a whimper, but show him the least bit of extra attention or kindness and there went the waterworks. It made Duo love him even more, that unexpected sentimental side.  
  
He pulled on the lurid pink "Better Than Pussy" cropped tank top Heero had vetoed a few days earlier and topped it with the butter soft Italian leather jacket Heero had given him for their first date. He combed out his braid and redid it, leaving a foot of loose hair at the end and wrapping it with a black thong.  
  
Heero raised an eyebrow as Duo slipped on his collection of bracelets and went to the dresser mirror to outline his eyes with a little kohl. "What exactly do you guys have planned?"  
  
Duo winked at him in the mirror. "You'll see." Taking Heero by the hand, he pulled him out onto the gallery. In the courtyard below was a huge black motorcycle with a very large red bow on the handlebars.  
  
"A Harley VRX Night Rod?" Heero gasped, gripping the railing.  
  
"Happy first birthday, 01!" Quatre and Trowa called up to him, leaning one a midnight blue model just like it, leather jackets on and helmets ready under their arms. A fourth helmet was balanced on the "bitch seat" of Heero's new bike.  
  
"Yep." Duo pulled him on toward the stairs. "Liquid cooled 60 degree V engine, titanium alloy brakes, straight shot duel pipes . . .Black, of course."  
  
"One twenty h.p., electronic sequential fuel injection, sixty-nine cubic inch displacement, eleven point three to one compression ratio . . ." Heero was almost drooling.  
  
"And a two-up seat for your main squeeze," Duo pointed out as he followed him down.  
  
Heero ran his hands over the big machine in much the way he'd touched Duo earlier. "It's-it's-" He shook his head and looked around at the others. "It's fucking awesome!"  
  
Quatre grinned. "I think he likes it, Duo."  
  
"I don't know-" Heero trailed off, blinking again. "I don't know what to say! Thank you!" He kissed all three of them on the mouth and they gathered around him in a group hug. "It's too much, but damn, I love it!"  
  
"I haven't seen you this excited since Zechs gave you back Wing," Trowa laughed, slapping him on the back. "So, you gonna stand around here or take that bad boy out for a spin?"  
  
"Is this part of your plan for tonight?" he asked Duo.  
  
"Yep. Let's go, baby."  
  
Heero straddled the bike and started it up as Duo climbed onto the bitch seat behind him. It rumbled like a living thing between his legs and he felt himself go hard. Oh yeah! Trowa stared up his own bike, with Quatre clinging on behind.  
  
"Let's go!"  
  
"Where?" asked Heero.  
  
"You'll see. Follow Trowa."  
  
They rumbled through the Quarter and turned north to the shores of Lake Ponchartrain, where they opened the bikes up on the highway and sped along with the wind whipping around them. Duo anchored his hands under Heero's arms and leaned into him, loving the vibration of the big engine and the freedom. He leaned forward and shouted over the wind, "I've heard hard core bikers claim they can tune the engine just right to make their woman come from the vibration. I'm starting to think they weren't lying!"  
  
"How's your butt?" Heero called back, face invisible behind the dark visor but the amusement clear in his voice.  
  
Duo squeezed him tighter. "Real good, baby. Real damn good!"  
  
As the moon rose over the water they drove out across the great causeway that spanned the lake. Twenty-four miles long, a straight on ribbon of asphalt suspended above the water, it gave Duo a surreal thrill in the moonlight.  
  
On the far side Trowa guided them to a rough looking roadhouse on the outskirts of Mandeville. There were dozens of big bikes lined up along the curb. Inside there were beer stained pool tables, loud music, and peanut shells on the floor. The clientele was mostly male and obviously gay, and dressed on the same worn denim and leathers, with a sprinkling of bondage gear like Kat's. People recognized them, but kept to polite nods and grins and left them alone.  
  
"I think we're getting to be old news around here," Duo noted as they took to the dance floor.  
  
"Better that way," Heero said, pulling him close and kissing him.  
  
+  
  
They danced, drank beer, and shot pool. Quatre had on a walking brace now, and he and Trowa managed some slow dances. Heero liked those, too. The smell of sex still clung to Duo's skin and he couldn't help burying his nose in his hair. It was rather like the day they'd all jumped Trowa-pheromone overload. Despite their strenuous session that afternoon, Heero was ready for more. He hoped the birthday plans didn't include another four way; no one had suggested it, but Trowa and Quatre were both very physical with him on the dance floor, and Duo seemed to be flirting with everyone.  
  
A little after midnight, however, Duo downed the last of his warm beer and took Heero by the hand. "Time for the rest of your present, 'ro." Heero cast a questioning look back at Trowa and Kat, but they remained at their table, waving good-bye.  
  
They climbed back on the big Harley and Duo guided him back across the bridge, and up the lakeshore to a nice hotel off the highway. Their rough clothing attracted a few odd looks from the desk clerks, but Duo ignored them as he pulled Heero across the lobby to the elevator and whisked him up to the suite he'd reserved.  
  
He opened the door with a flourish of the key card and Heero stepped inside and gasped.  
  
The room was very nice, and looked more inviting still because of the dozens of candles lit all over the room.  
  
"You set all this up. For my birthday?" Heero asked softly, looking around.  
  
"Yup. Just you and me and a few naughty ideas I've been having," Duo said, wrapping his arms around Heero's waist and kissing him. "And this time, I'm giving the orders.  
  
Heero expected to be steered for the shower, but instead Duo led him to the bed and had him lay down on his back, still fully clothed. He sat down beside him and unzipped the front of Heero's jacket to massage his chest. "You trust me, right?"  
  
"Of course I do."  
  
"Then put your hands over your head."  
  
There was mischief in his smile as he said it, but Heero also saw a hint of doubt. He calmly did as Duo asked, and wasn't surprised when Duo produced a pair of padded cuffs and secured his hands.  
  
"You don't get why I like this, do you?" he said. "Well, I want to try and show you. I've wanted to do this for a while now, so you can understand how much you mean to me, the way you take charge when I need it. If you don't want to do this, just say so. You're safe word is 'stop'."  
  
"Isn't that a bit obvious?"  
  
"Maybe, but that's what it is. You say stop, and I stop."  
  
"I accept my present, Duo. You're in charge now."  
  
"That's just the point, Heero. I'm not. You are now. The one with the safe word is in charge."  
  
Heero had already guessed as much, and he knew he wasn't going to use that word, no matter what Duo did to him. He wondered if Duo had plans to spank him. That didn't hold much appeal, but he'd let him, if that's what he wanted.  
  
Duo pulled off Heero's boots and jeans, leaving him naked from the waist down. Then he took out a switchblade from some hidden pocket and flicked it open inches from Heero's face. He waited a moment, giving Heero time to say the word, but Heero said nothing. He was not afraid.  
  
Duo used the knife to slice open the front of Heero's new shirt, then ran the tip of the blade very lightly down his midline and back up to trace his hardened nipples. It felt good, just a slightly scratchy tickle over his skin. Heero was careful to hold still, though his instinct was to arch into the sensation.  
  
"Very good, 01," Duo murmured, and the tip of the blade strayed lower, circling his navel and tracing the inside of one thigh dangerously close to Heero's scrotum. Heero's cock was hard and weeping already, in spite of all the beer he'd had.  
  
The knife disappeared somewhere and Duo bent over him and undid his braid, letting his hair cascade down across Heero's face and chest. It was cool against his skin, and smelled of sandalwood and cigarette smoke and beer and sex. Duo moved, slowly dragging all that heavy, silky hair down Heero's chest and belly to pool sensuously at his groin.  
  
"Love that!" Heero whispered. "Always love that!"  
  
"I know. That's why I only take down my hair for you."  
  
Duo moved again and Heero felt the warm slide of a tongue up his shaft and over the tip of his cock.  
  
"You still smell like me here," Duo whispered, moving down to lick and nuzzle Heero's balls. It only lasted a moment, then he was kissing down Heero's bare legs to his feet, and sucking his toes. Fingers found the soles of his feet and tickled.  
  
Heero bucked and pulled away. "Stop!"  
  
Duo sat back on his heels at once, palms flat on his denim-covered thighs. "You see? No tricks, just rules. Rules you can trust the other guy to follow. May I touch you again?"  
  
"Yes." Heero was bemused. Duo wasn't telling him anything he hadn't instinctively understood from the start, but it seemed to be important to him to do so, so Heero went along with it. Duo kissed and licked him all over, scraped his nails down Heero's sides, and bit him none to gently on the inner thighs and nipples. Heero was already floating on a slightly euphoric cloud of sensation. Who needed a safe word for play like this?  
  
Duo did stop after a while, though, but only long enough to shed everything but that awful pink top and his jewelry. Heero had to admit that it gave him a very wanton look, one that he found he liked very well behind closed doors. Duo picked up a thick pillar candle and came back to kneel beside him. Without a word, he tipped some of the liquid wax out to spill across Heero's thigh, mere inches from his scrotum. It burned and startled him. He jerked reflexively against the restraints and heard the chain joining the cuffs grate against the fancy metal work of the headboard. Duo raised an eyebrow at him, then poured hot wax across Heero's other thigh, letting a few hot droplets hit his balls this time.  
  
"Stop!" Heero grated out.  
  
Just as before, Duo sat back at once, still holding the candle. After a moment he leaned back, erection jutting up in front of him and lifted the candle over it. Realizing what he was about to do, Heero barked out "STOP!" so sharply Duo's hand shook, slipping a little wax across his leg.  
  
"I said stop!" Heero growled, not entirely convinced it had been an accident. "No more wax. Stop."  
  
Duo nodded and set the candle aside on the nightstand. "You see? Trust."  
  
"I understand that, Duo. I've always trusted you."  
  
Duo smiled, then stood up again and went to the closet. He returned with a small backpack. "Another present, Heero." He took out a long thin present wrapped in shiny red and black foil paper and ribbons and dangled a loose end of ribbon over Heero's lips. Heero took the bait and raised his head, catching the it between his teeth and pulling. It came loose and slithered down around his neck. Duo tore a corner of the paper and held the package close, making him unwrap the rest with his teeth. Inside was a long, thick curved sort of thing that Heero recognized at once as an anal vibrator. Duo flicked the control with his thumb, turning it on, and rubbed it over Heero's cheeks and lips, letting him feel the considerable buzz it gave off. "Do you trust me, Heero? Do you trust me to put this inside you?"  
  
"Yes." In fact, he was looking forward to it.  
  
"Good. Spread your legs for me, baby." Heero did, and Duo reached into the backpack again and came out with a bottle of lube. Slicking the vibrator, he inserted the narrow tip into Heero's anus and slowly worked it in. When it was proper seated deep inside him he turned it on again, the curved tip dangerously close to Heero's prostate, but not quite touching.  
  
"Ah!" Heero did arch now. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever felt before. He was also aware of the fact that he couldn't lower his arms. That seemed to heighten the sensations somehow.  
  
Duo chuckled. "You're starting to get it, aren't you? The other thing I like so much about being tied up. It's so sexy, having to just lie there and take it. It's good, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes!" Heero whispered, as wave upon wave of pleasure stiffened his cock to aching hardness.  
  
"And that's just the beginning, Heero." Duo moved so that he was straddling Heero's chest with his back to him. When he bent over, his spread, exposed ass was less than a foot from Heero's face, his anus, still red from this afternoon's love making, like a sexual bull's eye between those creamy cheeks. Heero raised his head, wanting to kiss and lick it, but he couldn't reach.  
  
"You want that, huh?" Duo chuckled, raking his nails up Heero's thighs again. "Well, you can't have it. You just get to watch."  
  
And Heero did, as Duo slicked up his fingers and slowly finger fucked himself right in front of him.  
  
"Oh god, Duo!" Heero gasped, watching as one, then two, then three fingers disappeared into that tight little hole, leaving it glistening and stretched. The vibration in his ass was almost maddening now. "Want to fuck you!"  
  
"Really? Well, too bad, baby, I've got other plans." Heero couldn't see his face, but he could tell he was grinning.  
  
Another rummage in the backpack produced a very large silicon dildo shaped like a cock and balls, and Heero had to watch helplessly, aching with arousal, as Duo fucked himself with that. They were both moaning by the time the last few inches had disappeared between his cheeks. The mouth of his anus was stretched tight around it, but Heero detected no sound of pain in Duo's voice.  
  
Duo leaned back, bringing the end of the thing within reach. "Fuck me, Heero."  
  
Heero had to open his jaws wide to grip the balls but he managed it, then used the strength of his neck to work the thing in and out a few inches. Duo helped by rocking back and forth. "Yeah, you're good! So good!"  
  
They continued like that for a few minutes. Heero's neck began to ache but he wouldn't stop. He was going crazy with arousal now, and Duo's strange, unexpected games only added to it.  
  
Just when he didn't think he could hold his head up any longer Duo suddenly moved away out of reach again. Lowering his head, he took Heero's straining cock down his throat, and reached back between his own legs to fuck himself with the dildo while Heero watched.  
  
"God Duo! That's so-amazing! I'm going to come, just watching!"  
  
Duo immediately stopped sucking him and his hand stilled on the dildo.  
  
"Duo?"  
  
There was no response, and Heero was left staring that the big dildo stretching his lover's ass. His cock was on fire now. "Duo? Please? I want more."  
  
But Duo still didn't move.  
  
Heero lay there a moment, confused, then something occurred to him and he grinned. "Duo, stop!"  
  
With a chuckle, Duo took him down his throat again and swirled his tongue over his shaft.  
  
"Oh god!" Heero moaned, proud of himself for seeing the illogic of the game.  
  
When Duo pulled off again it was only long enough to turn around, remove the dildo and slide Heero's cock into the warm tightness of his body. Once again, however, he went perfectly still. The combination of his heat and the vibrator lifted Heero to a whole new level of aching arousal. "Duo, please!" Did he dare use the safe word again, or would Duo stop everything? Heero thought he'd probably die of frustration if that happened right now.  
  
"What do you need, Heero?" Duo purred. His long hair was loose all around him now, framing his face and chest and belly.  
  
"You! I need you!" Heero gasped, hardly coherent now.  
  
"You have me, baby. I'm right here. See?" And with that he tightened the muscles of his rectum around Heero's cock.  
  
"Oh god! Do that again!"  
  
And Duo did, over and over again without moving in any other way. It was unlike anything Heero had ever felt before-at once maddening and overwhelmingly arousing. The squeezes grew erratic, with long pauses between some, and no pause at all between others. Heero couldn't anticipate, and his pleas for release got him nothing but a devilish grin. Duo was in complete control now, until Heero told him to stop. And there was no way in hell he was going to do that!  
  
Still grinning, Duo reached back and tickled Heero's balls, then reached further and---- "AhhhhhhH!" Heero bucked and yelled as the vibrations suddenly got a great deal stronger.  
  
"Didn't I mention that this model has multiple settings?" Duo chuckled. "Do you like it?" He adjusted something and the vibrations increased unbearably. Duo squeezed his cock again, a long ripple of internal muscles. "I'll stop if you tell me, 'ro. You have the safe word. All you have to do is use it."  
  
"No!" Heero panted. "Not until-not until I come in that hot ass of yours!"  
  
"The fuck me, Heero. Fuck me hard!"  
  
Scarcely recognizing the needy whine that wrung from him, Heero bent his knees and braced his feet on the bed, giving himself some small amount of leverage. Duo obligingly raised up a little, giving him room to thrust and Heero did, like a wild thing, lost now to everything but the need to come and the onslaught of sensation in his ass and cock, all accentuated excruciatingly by the sudden thought that he was bound and pinned down, unable to get loose or take charge. He was helpless to do anything but take what Duo was giving him, except that he wasn't. He could make it all stop with a single word. The heady mix of that insight was too much for him to process, except that he'd never been more turned on in his life.  
  
The orgasm, when it finally hit, was so intense he lost all awareness of anything but it. It tore through him like a tidal wave, engulfing every nerve in his body with an overload of sensation. It went on and on, and only when it finally began to let up was he aware of the taste of Duo's cum on his lips and the heat of it on his chest, face and belly. Opening his eyes, he saw Duo still straddling him, still coming, with his arms over his head and his hands buried in his hair, tears streaming down his face.  
  
Tears.  
  
Heero wrenched at the restraints and the chain joining the cuffs snapped, freeing him. He caught Duo as he fell forward and drew him down into his arms, holding him tight.  
  
"Duo? Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"  
  
"No!" Duo said shakily, clinging to him. "I'm great. It was the look on your face when you came! You got it. You really got it!"  
  
"Yes." The vibrator had become an annoyance. Heero reached back and pulled it out, letting it fall where it may, and gathered Duo closer. "That was amazing. I understand."  
  
Duo wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and smiled up at him. "I wanted you to feel it-what I feel when you take me like you did this afternoon. It's so good! I feel so safe and loved and wanted when you take care of me like that."  
  
Heero stroked his cheek. "I do. I really do. Thank you for showing me. And I'm glad-that is-I needed this, like this, just you and me. And this afternoon, too."  
  
"You needed it to be just the two of us."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Duo pushed himself up on his elbows, studying Heero's face closely. "You're wondering too, aren't you, how to handle the whole situation with the others."  
  
"I was worried about you."  
  
Duo shook his head slowly. "About me, huh? Well, that's no surprise."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Duo sat up and pushed his hair back over his shoulder. "I have a confession, Heero. I wanted to turn you on like this, but it was also kind of a test."  
  
"A test?"  
  
"Yeah. You let me wave a knife in your face, almost cut you, do the whole hot wax bit without a murmur. But when I tried to do it to myself, you stopped me. You should have seen your face, Heero. It' was a good thing you were cuffed."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh yeah. You'll take anything on, let me do just about anything, if you think it's what I want, except to hurt myself."  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I know, baby, but that doesn't mean hurting yourself to please me."  
  
"I'm confused, Duo. You don't hurt me. I knew you wouldn't cut me, and the wax isn't that hot, but---"  
  
"That's not what I'm talking about, Heero. You know I love Tro and Kat, and you go along with whatever the rest of us do, but you never say stop."  
  
"Neither do you," Heero told him, catching him by the hand and drawing him back down to lie close beside him. Stroking Duo's hair, he went on, "Sometimes I'm not sure what you want, or if you're just doing things because you think other people-me, Trowa, Quatre-that you need to make us happy somehow, even if you don't want it."  
  
"What don't I want?" Duo asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "If you're talking about the orgy, I told you then. No one but you fucks me. I was OK with the rest."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, of course! You don't think I'd just go along with watching you fuck Tro or suck of Kat if I wasn't into it too, do you?"  
  
"Oh. OK."  
  
"You don't sound OK. What about you? Are you mad about that night?"  
  
"No. I was just worried about you. Dr. Batoosingh-"  
  
"Ah, I knew it! What did he say to you today that set you off?"  
  
"Just that you're still---"  
  
"Still what? Crazy?" A dangerous edge was creeping into Duo's voice.  
  
"No, just--fragile. Emotionally."  
  
Duo snorted at that. "Fragile? Me? Yeah, right!"  
  
"What if you lost me."  
  
Duo went very still and didn't say anything for a long moment. "Oh."  
  
"So I got worried that maybe you were just going along with the whole Trowa and Kat thing because you thought I wanted it. I know that you weren't as comfortable about sharing as they are. I don't want you feeling like you have to do that. This afternoon-maybe it wasn't the best way of showing it, but I just wanted-no, I needed to show you that you're all I need, and the only one I can't live without."  
  
"Oh. Well, I like the way you communicate, baby," Duo chuckled, hugging him close. "But you do like them, too, don't you? It's OK. You know I do, too. I guess things are a little-I dunno-blurry between us now?"  
  
"Yes. It's all suddenly very complicated. Especially now that you and I are both helping with the show, and living with them and--"  
  
"And we've had sex with them."  
  
"That too."  
  
Duo sighed. "So what do you want to do?"  
  
"Marry you. Now. Tonight!"  
  
"No."  
  
Heero's heart seemed to stop in his chest before Duo looked up and kissed him.  
  
"Yes, I still want to marry you, but no, not tonight. Not because we're scared or confused. You weren't there to see how hurt Kat was when Wuffie wouldn't come see them get hitched. Can you imagine what it would do to him if we cut him out of our wedding?"  
  
"Yes, of course. I wasn't thinking."  
  
"So, maybe we need to talk to them, too, before we make any big decisions that impact all of us. You do love them, right?"  
  
"Yes, but not as much-"  
  
Duo laughed and pressed a finger to Heero's lips. "You don't need to keep adding that. I know. But we do love them and they love us and so we have to be careful and we have to be clear so we don't hurt them. And that means we have to know what you and I want and I don't think we can figure that out right this minute. And I'm sorry if I ruined your birthday."  
  
Heero blinked at him in surprise. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"All this serious shit in the middle of what I wanted to be a romantic get away."  
  
"And a test," Heero reminded him.  
  
"Oh yeah. Well, sorry about that, too."  
  
"No need." Heero rolled on top of Duo and bit him on the neck to make him yelp and squirm. "I like you tests. Did I pass?"  
  
Duo wrapped his arms and legs around Heero. "With flying colors, baby! So, should I hang onto that vibrator?"  
  
"Definitely." Heero rolled again so that Duo was on top and stroked his hands down his back to cup his buttocks. "Are you very sore?"  
  
"No, baby, I'm built for sex. In fact-" He wiggled against Heero, rubbing their erections together. "I think I'm ready for another go, birthday boy. We got the room for the whole night, ya know!"


	104. Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm  
> \--  
> It's never easy, even with love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Trowa was a good actor, but he couldn't hide his true feelings from Quatre for long. Quatre hardly needed his empathic skills to pick up on the undercurrent of worry that had plagued his husband since Heero had carried Duo off to bed that afternoon.  
  
It persisted through the evening, mingled with the usual good feelings as they all danced and drank together, but the moment Heero and Duo left for the hotel, Quatre saw some of the light go out of Trowa's eyes.  
  
They danced a few more times, and then Quatre kissed him and whispered, "Let's go home."  
  
Later, as they soaked together in the tub, with Quatre's plastic wrapped ankle hanging over the side, he decided it was time to break the silence.  
  
"Are you still jealous, Trowa?" he asked, leaning back against Trowa's chest.  
  
Long arms tightened around him. "I don't know. I don't think so." He went quiet for a long moment, resting his chin on Quatre's shoulder, then sighed. "We've been over this before."   
  
"Define 'this'." Quatre already had an idea, but he wanted Trowa to vocalize it for himself.  
  
"Us. Them. Who we are together."  
  
"It's not settled for you, love. I can feel it." Quatre spoke calmly, but he felt pain around his heart. He had thought it was settled, or at least hoped it was, that night in Tokyo. He thought Trowa had reached some sort of peace. But he hadn't and it hurt more than Quatre wanted to admit. "You can't have everyone, you know."  
  
"I know. I don't want-"   
  
Quatre turned as best he could and looked into those green eyes. Confusion seemed to be the dominant emotion there, mixed with the old familiar shame. "Please Trowa, don't make me dig for it. What are you feeling?"  
  
Trowa shook his head slowly. "It feels--It feels like they're going to leave us. That Duo is going to take Heero away."  
  
"Like he did during the war?"  
  
Trowa shrugged. "It's not just the sex, corazon." He scrubbed a hand across his face, leaving a trail of false tears. "I never had a family, just temporary groups that always break up. The mercenaries, the circus--"  
  
"You haven't lost Cathy, Trowa. She's still your sister. She still loves you. And the decision to break up that circus was yours, remember? You wanted to strike out on your own."  
  
"I hoped she'd come with me."  
  
It was the first time that Trowa had admitted that out loud. He'd tried so hard to convince her, but Cathy had her own ideas, her own plans and they didn't fit with Trowa's dark vision.  
  
"But she still loves you, Trowa, whether she's here with you or not. That's what family really means. Believe me, I know."  
  
Trowa gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry, meli. It's cruel of me, insensitive--whining like this with all you've been through."  
  
Quatre caught his face between his hands and made Trowa look at him. "Don't say that! I know what you mean, and I can feel your fear and your pain. I love having them with us, too, but maybe that's not the best thing for them. That's what loving someone really means, Trowa. Wanting what's best for them."  
  
"I'm selfish," Trowa whispered, turning away.   
  
"Wounded," Quatre countered, kissing him, then couldn't help adding, "I just wish that I was enough for you, the way Heero is for Duo."  
  
Real tears mingled with the false ones. "You are!"  
  
"No, I'm not, or we wouldn't be having this conversation again." Quatre levered himself up out of the tub and hobbled over to the stack of towels on the counter. He expected Trowa to follow, but he just sat there in the cooling water, face in his hands. Blinking back tears of his own, Quatre limped to the bedroom and stood staring at the wide bed there.   
  
/Why can't this be easy?/ he thought desperately. /It seems so good most of the time but underneath, there's always trouble! Trowa and Duo--they're never at peace long. They just can't let things be what they are. If it was just Heero and me---"   
  
He stopped, shocked at the disloyal thought. The evening had started off so well, and now he was miserable again. That bed looked far too big and lonely now. If he lay down there, he'd smell the others.  
  
Instead, he limped to the guest room and burrowed between the clean sheets alone. These only smelled of fresh air and the lavender spray Marie used on the linens. He turned off the light and curled up in a tight, unhappy ball, clutching an extra pillow to his chest with his face turned to the wall.   
  
At last he heard soft footsteps in the hall as Trowa left the bathroom and went to their room. A moment later, he heard him come out and make his way unerringly to the guest room. He paused in the doorway, broadcasting heartache. Quatre said nothing, just waited, and after a moment he heard him move away again.   
  
He hadn't expected that. He'd expected Trowa to come to him and apologize and cry and make love to him until everything was all better again, at least on the surface! Tears welled up under his tightly closed eyelids and leaked out to soak the pillowcase. He was so lost in misery that he didn't know Trowa had come back until he felt him slip into bed with him and spoon in behind him.  
  
Quatre let out a choked sob and turned in his arms, burying his face against Trowa's bare chest. Strong hands stroked his hair and back.  
  
"You are enough for me, meli. If they died or went away forever I'd be sad, but I'd go on. If I lost you, I couldn't. When we were on L-4, when they took you away to the courtroom and wouldn't let me come, that's all I could think about. What if I never saw you again? I couldn't go on. Life wouldn't hold any meaning, any flavor, without you to share it. I've been talking to Dr. Batoosingh about this a little in our sessions. It's hard, but I'm trying. I think maybe this isn't about you or Heero or Duo or all of us together. It's about me and what happened---before."  
  
"The mercenaries who first adopted you."  
  
"Yes. I think maybe, deep down, I don't think I deserve people who love me, because of what I did."  
  
"That wasn't your fault. You were just a kid and those spies used you."  
  
"Doesn't matter, meli. I still killed them, those people who loved me and sometimes, if I make myself think about it, I wonder if God hasn't given me you and the others as some sort of trick, so he can pull the rug out from under me again, to punish me."  
  
"You don't believe in God, Trowa, except when you need to be punished." A sigh was his only answer. Quatre pressed his hand to Trowa's heart. "Let me read you, Tro."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
Quatre silently opened his mind wide, willing himself to connect with Trowa's thoughts and feelings. There was pain, plenty of pain, but underneath it his love for Quatre still burned bright as ever, despite the guilt and bad memories. So did his love for Heero and Duo, but it was different, though still intense.   
  
It was like his own feelings for them: friendship and affection mixed with sexual attraction. His thoughts strayed back to L-4. He'd been scared, especially when they separated him from Trowa. The minute Trowa had shown up on that motorcycle, he'd been OK again. He'd been glad when Heero and Duo showed up, but he already felt safe, because Trowa was with him. Taking a deep breath, he whispered all that to his husband, and felt the pain let go of him a little.   
  
"So I don't want us to have this fight anymore. Never again," he finished, running his fingers through Trowa's bangs. "No more doubt. No more second guessing. I know how you feel about me, Trowa, and believe me, I feel just the same for you. And I love the others like you do, too. I wouldn't mind having sex with them again either, because it doesn't change anything. Even if that never happens again, though, even if they go off on their own, Trowa, they still love us. You must have faith in that."  
  
"Will you keep reminding me?" Trowa murmured, touching Quatre's cheek.   
  
"As often as it takes, my darling."  
  
Too exhausted and overwrought for love making, they kissed and caressed for a long time and fell asleep in each other's arms.  
  
+  
  
They woke late the next morning to find Heero and Duo sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing them with concern. They were both dressed in last night's clothes, still flushed from the wind and smelling of sex and hotel soap. For some reason, Heero wasn't wearing a shirt under his biker jacket.   
  
"What're you doing in here?" asked Duo.   
  
Trowa shot Quatre a questioning look as he sat up against the headboard.  
  
"I guess we just needed a change," Quatre answered for him.   
  
Heero regarded them quietly for a moment, then reached out and touched Trowa's cheek. "You've both been crying. What's wrong?"  
  
Caught in that quiet gaze, Quatre found himself pouring it all out while Trowa's hand stole over to clasp his.  
  
"Oh, man!" Duo climbed on the bed between them and put an arm around both, hugging them tightly.   
  
Heero settled next to Trowa and took his hand. "Duo and I have been having similar thoughts. It's not easy, figuring all this out. Maybe that's why people stick to pairs. Even so, we love you both very much. And we are family, no matter how we sort this out. Do you want us to move out?"  
  
"No!" Quatre and Trowa answered at once and without hesitation.  
  
"All right then. Duo, do you want to move out?"  
  
Duo gave Quatre another squeeze. "No, but I think I'd like for Heero and I to sleep in our own room for now, at least some of the time. I just--" He paused, chewing at his lower lip. "I just want to feel like it's a decision when we do."  
  
"What about this?" Trowa offered. "You sleep in your room during the week, and with us on the weekends."  
  
Heero nodded. "That's good for a start. I say we try it for two weeks and then discuss it again then."  
  
Quatre could feel Trowa's relief as keenly as his own, and Duo's, too. There was no sense of rejection in any of this. The others clearly wanted to be with them, and felt the same need for some sense of order or boundaries. It would do for now.  
  
+  
  
And it worked. Quatre and Trowa stayed in the master bedroom and Heero and Duo moved down the hall to what had been a second, disused guestroom for privacy. The need to hear each other having sex seemed to have passed. They still cuddled in front of the TV at night and worked closely through the day. Duo and Quatre were as affectionate with the others as ever. Heero made an effort to pull Trowa aside often for reassuring kisses and caresses, and the new act involved a lot of physical contact.   
  
It was not sexual, and it was. Trowa felt the heat between them, and carried the sweet, lingering memory of Heero's cock inside his body, but those feelings no longer had the raw energy of obsession. If anything, the separation at night made such activities sweeter, and by the time the first weekend rolled around, going to bed together felt like a reunion. They didn't have sex together, but "messed around", as Duo put it, without guilt or pressure and fell asleep in a contented sprawl of arms and legs.   
  
Trowa pondered all this as he and Quatre showered together the next morning, but couldn't find the right words.   
  
"It keeps everything special," Quatre told him.  
  
"Yes, that's it." Trowa smiled and pressed him back against the tile wall of the shower, belly to belly, erection to erection. "I like special."


	105. Obstacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm  
> \--  
> Stubborn only gets you so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_New Orleans, Monday, January 13, 199 AC  
6:22 A.M._  
  
Heero woke before anyone else and went downstairs to check his mail. What he found waiting in his email queue sent up back upstairs, laptop in hand. He shed his robe, and climbed back under the covers with the others, jostling then awake.  
  
"Damn, baby, your feet are like ice blocks!" Duo mumbled into his pillow.  
  
"And his butt," Trowa added, spooning sleepily up behind Heero and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Mmm, nice ice though--What the--? Hey, I thought we agreed, Yuy; no more computers in bed!"  
  
"At night," Heero reminded him, rescuing his laptop from questing hands. "I think you'll all want to hear this. Is Quatre awake yet?"  
  
"Do I hafta be?" a muffled voice grumbled from under a pillow on the far side of the bed.  
  
"Just listen, then. This is from the Sanque Times society column-"  
  
"Since when do you--?"  
  
"Don't interrupt, Duo, or I'll warm my feet in your armpits."  
  
Duo gave him a mock scowl and cuddled closer. "So read, you big bully."  
  
"'Milliardo Gustav Hermann Alexander George Wilhelm Peacecraft, Prince of Sanque and elder brother to Queen Relena Peacecraft, formally announces his engagement to Captain (Preventers, retired) Chang Wufei, Scion of the Dragon Clan of L-5 Colony. The couple have exchanged rings before witnesses and plan to be married in Sanque Cathedral on April fourth of this year.'"  
  
Quatre emerged beaming from under his pillow. "Good for them! It's official now."  
  
Duo looked at the screen over Heero's shoulder and snickered. "Gustav Herman? No wonder he changed his name! Call 'em, baby. I wanna say congrats in person."  
  
"Way ahead of you, 02," Heero grinned, pulling up the laptop's vid com panel.  
  
+  
  
_Sanque Kingdom, January 14, 199 AC_  
  
Wufei had appreciated the vid call from their friends, even if said friends had chosen to call them from bed, and probably naked, from what he could see. Zechs was certainly intrigued, Wufei noted sourly. He couldn't help feeling a little jealous. Zechs was still being overly cautious with him and Wufei suspected it was taking a toll on his hot-blooded lover.  
  
Sally emailed them soon after, along with few other people from Wufei's Preventers squad and the security staff in Sanque--people Wufei had never imagined hearing from again after his fall from grace.   
  
It had, of course, been too much to hope that such an announcement would go unnoticed by the press. Soon their phone line was jammed with reporters trying to get through for interviews or a quote. Zechs fielded all of these, sparing Wufei, who was simply overwhelmed.  
  
+  
  
_January 15_  
  
Zechs rose early that morning, and tried to kiss Wufei softly back to sleep. "It's too early for you to be up, my love, and I'm not staying for breakfast. Go back to sleep."  
  
Wufei stubbornly did nothing of the kind, but remained in bed, watching glumly as Zechs put on the elaborate state uniform of Sanque. Zechs could look magnificent in a ragged pair of stained jeans, but now he looked truly regal. Wufei fought down the fears that had plagued him since they'd come to this decision, knowing what Zechs would say.   
  
When he was ready to go, Zechs brought Wufei his morning medications and a glass of water and watched him swallow all seven pills. Taking the glass, he gave him another lingering kiss and cupped Wufei's face between his hands. "Don't sit here and worry all day, little love. Everything's going to be fine."  
  
Wufei covered Zechs' right hand with his own, running a finger over the diamond in his ring. "Good luck, my love. I hope--I hope it all goes well for you."  
  
"For us, mei. For us." Zechs' blue eyes tilted in a lazy smile. "And it will. Enjoy your day."  
  
Wufei tried to go back to sleep after Zechs left, but it was no use. Rising, he managed a shower on his own, pulled on his work out clothes and did his morning meditation. He still needed help down to breakfast, so he called for Tomas. After a very light breakfast of rice and fruit, he proceeded on to physical therapy with Gwen in the workout room.   
  
Gwen was a tall, muscular Swedish woman with no mercy whatsoever. Wufei liked her very much, and sweated without complaint through another grueling massage and range of motion manipulations, and a series of stretches and slow calisthenics designed to build up his depleted stamina. Afterwards, he gripped a wheeled walker and began his series of circuits around the large room.   
  
As he did so today, he thought back to those first sessions with Zechs, when Wufei had taunted him out of his self-pity and gradually reawakened the warrior spirit in him. He smiled, even as the sweat poured down his face and chest. Zechs had come alive again for him, and he owed him no less now.   
  
There was a clock on the wall, and he rewarded himself at the end of each circuit with a glance up at the time.  
  
10:18  
  
10:29  
  
10:48  
  
Zechs was to address Parliament at eleven o'clock, but the session and the debate that was certain to follow were not broadcast. There was nothing to do but wait for Zechs to call, or come home with the news.  
  
11:10 Damn it! He was exhausted and losing ground.  
  
He was just starting another circuit when Gwen strode over and caught him by the elbow.   
  
"Let me finish!" he rasped, but in truth, he was shaking, nauseated, and covered in sweat.   
  
"It's too much," Gwen chided, and unceremoniously scooped him up and carried him back to the massage table. "Stay here. I'm going to fetch Dr. Wolfson.  
  
"I don't need him!" he snapped, but she was already gone. Wufei silently cursed his slight build and stature-everyone seemed determined to treat him like a child!  
  
Nonetheless, he was helpless to object. Lying on his back was a bad idea. He was so dizzy he was afraid he was going to throw up and his heart was beating much too fast. Turning carefully, he curled up on his side and gripped the edge of the table.   
  
//I shouldn't still be this weak,// he thought, wishing the room would stop spinning. //I'm stronger than this, god damn it!//   
  
He must have passed out, because when he opened his eyes again he was tucked in bed in a clean nightshirt with an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. The small lamp beside the bed was on, and the clock on the nightstand showed 9:18 pm.   
  
Nine at night? He sat up in alarm, only to be overcome by another wave of dizziness. How had he slept the day away? And where was Zechs?  
  
Fighting down another bout of nausea, he pulled off the mask and looked around for his dressing gown, but instead spied a newspaper on Zechs' pillow, with long-stemmed red rose tucked into the fold. Curious, Wufei leaned back against the pillows and opened it across his lap. Inside, folded around the rose, was a sheet of paper. It was an email from Zechs, sent to the house account.  
  
_"My love, Dr. W informed me of your collapse, but assured me it was not serious. I will speak with Gwen about your exercise regime tomorrow. I must attend to some legal paperwork here and will be home very late. In the meantime, take your pills, eat something, and check out page one. All my love, Z."_  
  
Wufei's heart beat faster, reading those last words. He held the rose to his nose, inhaling its heady scent, and turned his attention to the newspaper. It was today's evening edition of the Times. There was a large picture of Zechs standing at a podium in an ornate chamber. Relena was visible to one side, dressed in one of her trademark suits and hats.   
  
The headline read: _"Prince Milliardo Defends Unconventional Engagement."_  
  
_"Prince Milliardo Peacecraft appeared before the Sanque Parliament this morning, officially announcing his intention to take former Gundam pilot and retired Preventer agent Chang Wufei as his husband. Addressing the session in full, he spoke candidly._  
  
_"Relena, Chancellor, respected ladies and gentlemen of the Parliament, thank you for allowing me to appear before you today. As you are no doubt aware, I have asked Chang Wufei to marry me and he has most graciously accepted. While such unions are legal in our great country, I realize that my connections to this government and the royal family may give some of you pause over this matter._  
  
_"Some months ago I stated that I did not feel worthy to be considered for the throne now, or at any point in the future. My feelings in this matter remain unchanged. Once again, I offer to renounce my title, as well as any claim you may still feel I have, in order to live as I feel I must._  
  
_"I will gladly serve my country and the people of Sanque, should you deem it necessary, but I can only do so with the express understanding that it will be with the man I love at my side. I bow to the will of the people in the matter of my service, but will not be swayed from my chosen path in the matter of my personal life. I love Sanque and always shall, but without the love and support of my beloved, I am nothing, and of no use to anyone."_  
  
_Prince Milliardo then retired from the council chamber and debate ensued, with the resulting vote, three hours later, to recognize the prince's marriage and any issue that may result as legitimate . . . "_  
  
Wufei read it again, blinking back tears of relief, then called the kitchen and ordered a light supper of rice, miso, and tea. Tomas arrived with the tray and his nightly meds to find him still mooning over the paper. "How are you feeling, sir?"  
  
"A little better," Wufei replied as Tomas settled the tray across his lap. "What happened to me?"  
  
"The doctor examined you after you fainted and felt it was advisable to administer a mild sedative. If I may, sir, I think you have been pushing yourself rather hard. His Highness has voiced concern, as well."  
  
"Not hard enough, if I faint after such a short workout," Wufei grumbled.  
  
He ate a little from each bowl, but couldn't muster much of an appetite. Sending the tray away, he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Before he could reach the sink, however, what little he'd eaten came rushing back up, all over the pale gray tile floor. He caught at the edge of the counter, lowering himself down to a clean patch of floor as the edges of his vision went dark.   
  
//No! Zechs, help me--//


	106. Imbalance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm  
> \--  
> 06+05. Some mush. Some info. Some progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

"Zechs?" Wufei's throat was terribly dry. He could scarcely force the whisper out. The last thing he remembered was the vomit covered floor rushing up to meet him. His eyelids were too heavy to open and that scared him. "Zechs!"   
  
He felt strong fingers tighten around his own. "I'm here, little love. Wake up, can't you?"  
  
That touch, and that calm, husky, beloved voice, and the warm stir of breath against his cheek were almost as good as an embrace. With an effort Wufei forced his eyes open and looked blearily around. The lights were dim, but he knew by the sterile smell that he was in the hospital again. The oxygen mask over his face accounted for his dry mouth.   
  
Zechs was at his bedside, watching him with obvious concern. He looked tired and there was the pale glimmer of stubble on his cheeks.  
  
Wufei concentrated on the feeling of Zechs's hand in his, willing himself to speak again. "What--? What happened?"  
  
"It wasn't a heart attack," Zechs assured him. "And there's no internal bleeding. The doctors think it's a mix of stress and a reaction to some of your meds. That all caused something called supraventricular tachycardia."  
  
"How serious?" Wufei whispered.   
  
"Not very, my love." Zechs leaned forward and stroked the hair back from Wufei's forehead. "The cardiologist, Dr. Verhoffen, thinks the damage to your aorta and the treatments may have aggravated an preexisting condition. You may have had this for years, but nothing triggered so severe an attack before."  
  
"Why am I so weak?"  
  
"They've given you some muscle relaxants and a tranquillizer. Gwen said you've been pushing yourself much too hard lately."  
  
Wufei let out a frustrated sigh. "I just want to get better, but the more I do, the more ground I lose!"  
  
"You are getting better. You just have to be patient."  
  
Wufei swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and said nothing. Patience with himself had never been his strong suit.  
  
Zechs spoke to the nurse, informing her that Wufei was awake, and soon after the cardiologist came in to speak with him.  
  
"SVT can be caused by a number of things, Mr. Chang," he explained. "Poor oxygen flow to the heart muscle, lung disease, electrolyte imbalances, high levels of certain medications, abnormalities of the heart's electrical conduction system, or structural abnormalities of the heart. In your case, the shooting was certainly a factor."  
  
"Is this a permanent condition?"  
  
"It's too soon to tell, I'm afraid. I've already performed an emergency cardioversion. An electrical shock was delivered to your heart to convert the abnormal heart rhythm back to a normal rhythm. So far, your heart rhythm is normal. I've adjusted your medications. If that doesn't work, then there are other options."  
  
"Surgical?"  
  
"It's a procedure called a catheter laser ablation. A small laser is inserted into your heart through the groin artery and used to selectively destroy the short circuiting nerves."  
  
Wufei tightened his grip on Zechs's hand. "What are the risks?"  
  
"There's really no need to go into that yet."  
  
"I need to know."  
  
"Very well. There is a very small chance, one percent or so, that the procedure could damage healthy tissue, making it necessary for you to have a pacemaker implant. Bleeding in the heart is also a very small possibility, but easily treated. There is also the rare possibility of a stroke."  
  
Wufei closed his eyes for a moment, trying to make sense of all this. "I'm only eighteen. I'm fit and very healthy. How can this be?"  
  
"These things happen. But you're responding very well so far, and as you say, you are young and healthy. Please, just be patient and let yourself heal. Mr. Peacecraft and your physical therapist have both told me that you tend to be very hard on yourself, very demanding, and that you have been under considerable stress since the events in Japan. That tendency can only work against you right now. You must relax."  
  
"I will do my best, doctor. Thank you for your candor. I must ask one more thing, as it relates to my stress level."  
  
"Certainly. What is it?"  
  
Wufei steeled himself for the very distasteful necessity before him, but it must be done. Not letting himself glance at Zechs, he asked, "How soon will it be safe for me to engage in sexual intercourse with my fiance?" He heard Zechs's small, choked gasp, but the doctor seemed unsurprised. "I'd like to keep you here another day or so to monitor your heart, but once you're home I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to resume normal sexual relations, so long as you both are sensible and avoid anything that causes you any undue discomfort."  
  
"Undue-" It must have been the effects of the drugs they had him on, but Wufei laughed outright at that. "Thank you, doctor. I feel less stressed already."  
  
With a last quizzical look at both of them, the doctor took his leave.  
  
"Wufei!" Zechs exclaimed softly.   
  
"You heard the man," Wufei replied, giving him a triumphant look over the rim of his oxygen mask. "If you'd not insisted on treating me like I was going to break, I'd be a lot less stressed." He'd only been teasing, but a look of genuine pain in his lover's eyes brought him up short.   
  
"I'm sorry, Wufei. Perhaps I was being overly cautious, but you don't seem to appreciate how very frightened I am of losing you."  
  
"I'm sorry, Zechs!" Wufei wished that he had the strength to sit up and reach for him, Zechs looked so lost. He had to settle for pulling the oxygen mask aside and bringing Zechs's hand to his lips for a contrite kiss. "It's my fault I got shot, and you're right--I'm not sensitive enough to your feelings. I've gotten so used to you being strong, I let myself forget that I can hurt you. Please forgive me."  
  
Zechs moved his chair closer and slipped an arm under Wufei's shoulders, drawing him up gently to rest against his chest. "I am strong, mei, and very protective of you--to the point that I forget how strong you are. But you were seriously injured and you have been physically compromised and--well, it's hard for me to be gentle during sex. And we haven't really addressed the 'size' issue, have we? The thought of hurting you, or jarring you too much has been rather an effective anti-aphrodisiac."  
  
"I know. But you heard what the doctor said. And I do need you like that! You know I do." Damn it, he wasn't going to cry! It would only make Zechs feel worse than he already did. "It's been so difficult, with you keeping me at arm's length. Promise me that once I'm home and stabile, we'll find a way for you to make love to me? Please?"  
  
Zechs sighed and stroked Wufei's hair. "If you will promise to be absolutely honest as to how you're doing, and not try and force anything."  
  
"Of course. You'll be in complete control, I promise." Wufei rubbed his cheek against Zechs's strong chest and murmured, "You know how much I love that!"  
  
Zechs laughed softly and kissed the top of his head. "My sizzling hot little bottom boy."  
  
"Shh! What if the nurse heard?" Wufei protested in a scandalized whisper, but even with the effects of the drugs, the words sent a delicious shiver of arousal through him.  
  
Zechs chuckled and kissed him on the lips this time. "My little plum blossom boy, then, 'lovelier than Long Yang, joyful as nine springtimes.'"  
  
Wufei melted against him, undone as always by such attentions. "Yes, my emperor. Always yours. I can't wait to get home!" He'd long since given up any embarrassment over such talk in private.   
  
Zechs stayed with him that night, and stretched out beside him on the bed to watch the evening news. Their engagement and his hospitalization were both lead stories, followed by coverage of protesters opposing their union. Zechs grabbed the remote and switched it off.  
  
"Wait, I want to see!" Wufei objected.  
  
Zechs tossed the remote onto the night table and hugged him close. "It's nothing. The media is blowing it out of proportion."  
  
"You knew about this?"  
  
"Yes, love. There was a small crowd of them outside the Parliament house. It's nothing to be concerned about, I promise. Same sex unions have been legal here for years. I suspect it's more about lingering hatred of me than anything else."  
  
Wufei tightened his arms around Zechs, wishing he could protect him from his own past, and the repercussions that still dogged him. "I know you want to shield me from any unpleasantness, Zechs, but you can't. I don't want to be your pampered little house pet. I am your friend, and I'm going to be your husband. Whatever else I am in the bedroom, outside of that I am still Chang Wufei, a warrior. I am strong for you, as you are for me. Don't shut me out, Zechs, thinking to protect me. I couldn't bear it, to think you don't trust me that way."  
  
Zechs stroked his hair slowly, then sighed. "Oh, my darling, I do trust you, and I respect you completely. Perhaps I have been a little over protective, but you've been so ill! Please don't ever confuse my concern for you with disrespect."  
  
"Then be honest with me. I won't break!"  
  
"I will do my best to remember that, Wufei."  
  
"So start now. Who are these protesters?"  
  
"According to my security sources, mostly disaffected religious nuts and anti monarchists. Why Sanque insists on maintaining even the semblance of an hereditary monarchy in this day and age is beyond me, and I've told Relena and Parliament that a number of times in no uncertain terms. But they will persist, and as long as Relena had no heir, I'm still the royal spare. My god, can you imagine the uproar if they ever tried to make me king? The man who nearly dropped a space fortress on the Earth?"  
  
"You aren't that man anymore," Wufei insisted.  
  
"Perhaps, but I certainly look one hell of a lot like him," Zech replied bitterly.   
  
"In time people will see that," Wufei told him. "We will make a good life together, and do good things for the world, and they will see."  
  
Zechs pulled back a little and gazed wonderingly into Wufei's eyes. "Whoever this new Zechs is, it is all thanks to you, my love. Without you, I don't know what would have become of me."  
  
"No. I only reminded you who you are, as you did for me. Now give me back that control and let me watch the news!"  
  
With another dramatic sigh, Zechs grudgingly complied.   
  
It was not easy, listening to the rantings of Zechs's detractors. The reporters spoke with a number of the protesters, then legal analysts took over, rehashing Zechs's recent history, and what little was known about Wufei himself. Most of it was war related, as the rest of his past had been obliterated with his home colony. The other Gundam pilots were currently unavailable for interviews, but Heero spoke with the GNN anchor via vid phone and Wufei grinned to see him in full Perfect Soldier mode again. His answers were short to the point of rudeness, but he left no doubt as to his support of both Wufei and Zechs.  
  
"I always liked him," Zechs murmured when the news ended and Wufei shut it off. "He was an odd little guy, but what a warrior!"  
  
"You never said how you met him."  
  
"We fought, the day you all came to Earth, of course, but you know that. I first met him in person when Noin brought him and Barton to the Barclay base in Antarctica. We dueled there for the first time, though we never reached a conclusion."  
  
"Ah yes. I remember you mentioning that once. It's odd. Barton never mentioned it, not even when we were all together in New Orleans."  
  
Zechs was quiet a moment, then he shrugged. "We were only there a few days. Perhaps he's forgotten. We barely spoke."  
  
Wufei smiled. "That goes without saying, with Trowa."  
  
"Ancient history, my love. I didn't know any of you then. We were different people." He slipped a finger under Wufei's chin and pressed his lips to his. "I much prefer who we all are now, don't you? Sleep now, so we can spring you out of this joint tomorrow." He gave Wufei a wolfish smile as he reached for the light. "You need to get your strength back, so I can make good on my promise, after all."


	107. Tangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm  
> \--  
> 06x05. Toys and games. Secrets and regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

As much as Zechs wanted to make love to Wufei again, worry still nagged at him, and something else. During the ride home from the hospital he formulated one excuse after another to put him off, but as soon as they arrived at the house Wufei drew Zechs into their bedroom and curled up on the bed with him, snuggling into his arms. He said nothing, but the silent question begged an answer.  
  
"Very well," Zechs sighed. "Take your clothes off, love."  
  
"I---um, there's something I need to do first," Wufei muttered, and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later the shower came on and ran for some time. Zechs could hear Wufei moving around in there, the sound of cabinets being opened and closed, and the occasional muttered expletive.   
  
Zechs had discovered half a dozen packaged enemas in a cabinet a few days earlier. He tried to imagine his modest, inhibited and very private lover asking Tomas or one of the other household staff to purchase such things for him. Zechs would have told Wufei he didn't require such measures if the boy had only asked. Then again, anything that made Wufei feel more secure or more in control could only help, he supposed.   
  
Zechs went to his dresser and took out the smallest of the plugs Wufei had given him for Christmas and the lube. This plug was purple, slender, a bit smaller than Zechs's middle finger, and gently tapered for insertion, with a slight bulge in the middle and a flared base to hold it in place.   
  
He had to admire Wufei's determination. Their first attempt at penetration had been Wufei's doing, too, and an utter debacle. If Wufei had been some cadet at the Academy, Zechs would have dropped him cold after that for his own good. He absently brushed a hand across the front of his soft wool trousers, which was only half-heartedly tented out at the moment. Being "hung like a Clydesdale", as Duo put it, might make Zechs the envy of most men, and the object of fantasy for others, but the reality had its drawbacks.   
  
Fortunately he'd never been particularly attracted to smaller boys as some of his friends at the Academy had been, preferring lovers who matched him both in age and size. He and Masa Nakamura had been a perfect match that way. Sex with the handsome Japanese youth had been wild and rough and uncomplicated, and cemented their friendship in bed and out. Even after all this time, he felt some of the old heat rise, remembering those nights. Masa had been one of the few people he regretted leaving behind when Treize had driven him away.   
  
When he'd risen to Academy instructor he hadn't been above seducing cadets, but he'd still taken size into consideration when planning his conquests. Even when pursuing reluctant prey, his aim was always mutual pleasure, not domination or pain. Cruising in bars like the one in Le Fleur, he had good instincts for choosing partners who were up to the challenge. The few times he'd found his would be-fuck toy too tight, he backed off, unwilling to cause even a stranger that kind of pain. Watching Wufei hurt himself that first time had been the antithesis of erotic.   
  
His second time with Wufei had been better, it was true, but even with all Zechs's skillful preparation, penetration had not been easy, though they'd both enjoyed it. Zechs smiled, recalling the boy's wanton wildness, and the silken tightness of his virgin ass around Zechs's shaft. It had been intoxicating, but not because of the challenge or the pain, or even Wufei's passion. It had been the first time he'd found that kind of release with someone he genuinely loved.   
  
Standing here now, however, still waiting for Wufei to come out of the bathroom, he couldn't help dwelling on the inevitable aftermath. Wufei had bled and been in considerable pain the next day.  
  
And before Zechs could make amends and help him, he'd gone and gotten himself shot!  
  
Zechs slowly relaxed fists he didn't remember clenching. Pacing again, he dug deeper, trying to sort out the growing tension in his gut. The doctor had said this was safe, and Wufei certainly wanted it. //What the fuck am I so worried about?//  
  
Reverting to an inner calm that had served him well in battle, he reviewed the facts. The first time Wufei forced the issue---took control and did it badly. The second time he blind-sided Zechs again, and Zechs had been too rough.   
  
//And this time?// He glanced at the bathroom door. //This time it's his choice, too, and he used the doctor against me to force the issue, even though I'm---//  
  
What? //Not ready?// His heart was pounding in a way that spoke of more than lust and a headache was swelling to life behind his eyes. Looking down, he saw that his hands were shaking. His cock hung limp and disinterested against his thigh. Going to the night table, he shook a couple of painkillers from the bottle there and downed them dry.  
  
//You got yourself shot, Wufei. You scared me then worse than I've ever been scared, and now you're pushing too hard again.//  
  
Catching sight of himself in the mirror over the fireplace, Zechs halted, shocked. That was not the look of a lover.  
  
He managed to calm himself by the time Wufei emerged from the bathroom. He was naked except for a towel around his waist and glistening from the shower. Regen had made the surgical scars on his chest disappear, leaving smooth, slightly lighter skin where they'd been. Zechs was glad of that; any reminder of what they'd been through, how close he'd come to losing this beautiful young man, made his own heart hurt.  
  
Wufei's long, shining hair was still pulled back and his cheeks were flushed. At Zechs's nod, he lowered his eyes, let the towel drop, then positioned himself on hands and knees on the bed, legs slightly spread, ass presented. Zechs saw the blush darken, and the way he squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
"Relax, love," Zechs murmured. "We don't have to do this if you're not up to it."  
  
"I am ready. Please, proceed."  
  
//Still relentless,// Zechs thought, resigned. It was certainly an alluring sight, Wufei's current pose, the image of submission apart from the fact that it was completely at his will that they were doing this now.  
  
Zechs applied lubricant liberally to the purple plug and knelt behind Wufei to slick his tight, pink little hole. It was warm against his finger and flexed a little as he smoothed the cool gel around. His balls hung between his thighs like ripe plums, tight and silken and hairless. It occurred to Zechs that this was the first time he'd seen Wufei displayed like this in daylight. Before the shooting, they'd made love only at night, by candle or firelight, and it had been only toward the end that Wufei had permitted any sort of rimming or penetration. The memory of this slender golden body dressed in stockings and silken brassier in this very room stirred his cock, and the way he'd all but attacked Zechs in New Orleans, but he also noticed how much weight Wufei had lost since the shooting. He was still sleek and beautiful, but his backbone and ribs showed more clearly under muscle. Kneeling close, Zechs kissed his way up his lover's spine to the back of Wufei's neck, then nuzzled one delicate ear until Wufei shivered against him and hissed, "Please, just---do it?"  
  
"You're treating this like some sort of training exercise, Wufei." Reaching between those slender thighs, he found Wufei's penis limp and shrunken. "It's not terribly romantic."  
  
"A means to an end," came the whispered reply.   
  
"I want to give you more than that, my love." Zechs stroked his back and hips, and slipped a lubed finger inside to prepare his tight channel. Wufei relaxed and let him in. He was so hot inside, the walls of his rectum smooth and slippery under his finger. Zechs caught his breath and pressed deeper, giving his prostate a gentle rub.   
  
"Ah!" Wufei arched and shivered under his touch.   
  
"That's better." Zechs tickled his prostate a little more, until Wufei was panting and his cock was stiff. In control of the situation at last, he parted Wufei's cheeks wider and pressed the tip of the plug to his opening. The loosened ring of puckered pink flesh accepted the implement. Zechs twisted it a little, making Wufei hiss and bite his finger, and pressed it home until the sphincter closed snugly around the base, stroking his lover's cock with his other hand.   
  
"Very good." He rewarded Wufei with kisses and teasing nips all over his bottom until Wufei let out a very uncharacteristic sound that might have been a strangled giggle and collapsed on the bed, burying his face in the pillow and humping Zechs's hand shamelessly.  
  
"How does it feel?" Zechs laughed.  
  
"Like I have a finger up my---you know," came the muffled reply.  
  
"Want it out?"  
  
"No. But---how long until we go to the larger ones?"  
  
"You're very impatient, mei," Zechs chided, releasing Wufei's weeping erection and withdrawing his hand. "One might even say headstrong."  
  
Wufei lifted his head and regarded him seriously. "I was taught to meet challenges without flinching."  
  
Zechs gave the exposed base of the plug another turn and grinned as Wufei caught his breath. "Unflinching, eh?" He did it again, just to show him who was in charge.  
  
Wufei gasped. "You startled me, that's all. This is no challenge at all. Put in the next one."  
  
"Hmm. That sounded rather like an order." Zechs gave him a light, playful smack on the buttocks, jarring the plug and making Wufei yelp into the pillow. "I'm beginning to think you might have been a bit spoiled as a child. Weren't you ever spanked?"  
  
"Certainly not!" The bit of face Zechs could see between hair and pillow was scarlet now.  
  
"Hmm, never too late," Zechs teased, giving him another light swat.  
  
"Please, Zechs, put in the other one?" Wufei whined through gritted teeth, and it was clear now that he was still caught between arousal and embarrassment as he pushed up onto his hands and knees again, his flagging erection heavy between his thighs and showing a dewy drop of clear fluid at the tip.  
  
Zechs leaned in and licked it away, drawing a very satisfying moan from his lover. "Very well." Zechs carefully extracted the small plug and replaced it with the next largest. This one was blue, a few inches longer, and an inch and a half wide at its largest point. Wufei had broken out in a sweat by the time Zechs had it properly seated. "Are you all right?" he asked, taking Wufei's cock in his hand again. It had gone limp.  
  
Wufei lowered himself slowly back to the coverlet and wiggled his hips a little. "Yes. It's---um-- This will be of more use than the last."  
  
"Good. Get your clothes back on, then, and let's take a walk."  
  
Wufei gave him a look of disbelief, but Zechs stood and extended his hand. "Come on, don't dawdle. I fancy a game of chess."  
  
It was very hard not to laugh at the hesitant way Wufei moved as he collected his discarded clothing and dressed. The loose silk pants and long shirt he'd come home in effectively hid any sign of the plug, but could not disguise the gingerly way he walked as they left the bedroom and made their way through the house to the library. Once there, Zechs gallantly placed an extra cushion in Wufei's usual chair, then kept him sitting there for five straight games. To his credit, Wufei won the last two.  
  
+  
  
It was not comfortable sitting on a plug, and Wufei could tell that Zechs was enjoying his discomfort. Wufei proudly refused to admit it and kept the damn thing in through supper and a walk to the frozen koi pond and back. By bedtime, however, he was cursing both his own stubbornness and Quatre for ever showing him that catalog, but had to admit that the plug was doing its job. He definitely felt different inside.   
  
Zechs took pity on him and they went to bed quite early. He was very tired, in spite of his improvement since the cardioversion treatment and change of meds. Zechs removed the plug and drew a hot bath for them in the large sunken tub, then held Wufei and massaged his backside as they soaked together.  
  
"Sore, mei?"  
  
"A bit," Wufei admitted.  
  
Zechs kissed the side of Wufei's neck and bit him gently just above the shoulder, sending a jolt of pleasure through him that made his nipples go hard and tingly. "Thank you for admitting it. You deserve a reward." With that, he turned Wufei so he was floating on his back across Zechs's lap and took his stiffening cock in his mouth, pleasuring him with lips and tongue while he kneaded Wufei's bottom with strong fingers and rubbed the ridge behind his balls with a thumb. Just as it had that night at the New Orleans hotel, the lingering pain in Wufei's ass transformed to heat and pleasure and he came in minutes, gasping in ecstasy. As soon as he recovered his wits he made Zechs sit up on the edge of the tub and knelt between his legs, returning the favor with enthusiasm that soon had Zechs gripping his head and growling with lust. Wufei wrapped an arm around his lover's muscular waist and took his cock down his throat, swallowing and humming to drive him over the edge as he played with and tugged on his balls. Zechs came with a guttural snarl, fingers tangled painfully in Wufei's hair.   
  
"Ah Christ!" he gasped as Wufei swallowed his thick salty cum. "You never--- never cease to amaze, 05."  
  
"05?" Giddy with sex, Wufei gazed adoringly up at him. "So was that a fantasy of yours, back in the war? Having a 'Gundam boy' suck you off?"  
  
He was looking Zechs in the eye, and saw the sudden stricken look there, as clearly as he felt the sudden tension in his lover's body. "What is it, Zechs? What did I--- Oh." Wufei went still and cold all over, the taste of Zechs's passion still strong on his tongue. "Who was it?"  
  
Zechs closed his eyes for a moment, looking as if he were in pain. "Not here. Not like this." He stood and pulled Wufei from the tub, wrapping them both in large bath sheets. When they were both dry and in their robes Zechs settled them on the couch in front of the fire and poured a tall scotch for them both.   
  
Wufei sat at one end, curled up with his back pressed to the armrest. Feeling like he was caught in a nightmare, he sipped at the fiery liquid, disliking the taste but welcoming the instant numbing warmth of it. The few feet of cushions that separated them felt very far, and he was torn between needing to feel Zechs's heat and strength and wanting to punch him.  
  
"Was it Yuy?" he asked, surprised at how calmly the question came out.   
  
"No, Barton."   
  
"Barton!" For some reason, that didn't make any sense. "And you never said anything. We stayed at their house! And that game at the hospital! Oh god! Does Quatre know?"   
  
"Yes, he does, has for years, apparently, but you know how he is. Please, Wufei, let me explain." Zechs took a long sip and rubbed a hand over his face. Wufei's heart sank lower, but he took another swallow and clutched his glass in both hands, steeling himself for the worst.  
  
"It was after I'd been driven out of OZ. I took refuge at the Barclay base in Antarctica. I was lost, Wufei. Treize had turned his back on me, I was a hunted man, and I'd gone renegade, reconstructing Yuy's Gundam at my own expense. At my request Noin brought him to me, for a duel. I was seeking my own death, and thought he could give it to me. Somehow Barton tagged along. I wondered if he and Yuy were involved; I knew at a glance that Barton was gay, and he read me just as easily. We're two of a kind, or at least we were back then."   
  
"How---how did it happen? Did you---" Semen and scotch were threatening to climb back up his throat now. Images from those nights at the Le Fleur club suddenly came back to make him feel even worse. "Did you fuck him?"  
  
"No! It was just mutual blow jobs between soldiers."  
  
Wufei took another gulp of scotch. "Just?"   
  
"I know it may be hard for you to understand. You lived a very different life than he and I did. But you know what I was like, before---before you. I've never lied to you, and I'm not now."  
  
"Yes, I know that, but---" But before it had only been strangers, and Wufei been able to handle that. But this? This was different.  
  
"It was late at night," Zechs went on. "We were cold and lonely and both thought we'd be dead tomorrow. It was just---physical, that's all. Comfort of the body. They left the following day and I didn't think I'd ever see him again. When I did, times had changed and we didn't repeat the act. It really didn't matter, Wufei. It was just a quick bit of comfort, like hundreds of others I'd shared with anyone available. There was never anything between us."  
  
Wufei stared into his glass. "And Quatre doesn't mind?"  
  
"Apparently not. He brought the subject up when you and I visited. He was checking me out, making certain my intentions toward you were honorable. For what it's worth, he gave me his blessing. And you saw how at ease he was during the spin-the-bottle game."  
  
Wufei felt himself blushing again. "So they all know. Were they all looking at us and thinking---"  
  
"No, Heero and Duo don't, and it's none of their business."  
  
"I see. I suppose it's naive to ask why you haven't told me this before."  
  
"I didn't know what to do. I've never been in this position before, Wufei. I saw how meeting Nakamura bothered you, and I understood." He paused, shaking his head sadly. "When you first came here, I never imagined I'd fall in love with you. And I had no idea that you were still friends with them. As time went on you drew me into that circle and I saw how important you all are to each other. I didn't want to lie to you but I also didn't want to do anything to damage your relationship with any of them. And I didn't want to lose you, of course. But I don't want to lie to you, either. I've never lied to you, my love. Do you wish I had?"  
  
Wufei took another sip of scotch and considered this. At last he shook his head. "No. But please be honest with me now. Do you wish I were more like Trowa? Experienced, and---so free?"  
  
Zechs leaned forward and captured his hand. "He wasn't free, Wufei. He'd been treated like a whore far too young and had no idea how else to act. He's made an amazing life for himself, a good life, but when I look in his eyes I still see a sad, damaged boy. I would never wish that on you. And I've already told you many times how very selfish I am, to be so glad to be your first real lover. But more than that, you are the only person, apart from Treize, that I have ever loved, and that's the truth." He gave Wufei a sad, imploring smile.   
  
Wufei felt numb now, and it wasn't because of the alcohol. "Could you leave me for a while? I need time to take this in."  
  
"Of course. I'll be in the library." Zechs rose and went out quickly, closing the door softly behind him.   
  
Wufei sat a moment longer, stunned. Then he set the glass on the floor and rearranged himself on the couch, legs folded, back straight, hands relaxed on his knees, half lidded eyes fixed on the flickering light of the fire.   
  
+  
  
The lights were off and the servants had let the library fire go out, assuming he and Wufei had retired for the night. Content with darkness, Zechs dropped into his armchair and sank his head into his hands. The wind had risen outside, blowing gritty snow against the windows behind the heavy velvet drapes. The hollow, desolate sound echoed his own soul perfectly. For the first time in months, Eliot's verse came back to haunt him-- // rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar// Yes, that's how his heart felt right now.   
  
How could he expect Wufei to understand, much less forgive? He should have told him sooner, that first night the boy had confessed his feelings for him. Zechs knew by then how honorable and inexperienced he was. But no, he'd told himself it didn't matter, that it would never matter. He'd lied to himself, if not Wufei, to convince himself that he was worthy of such a man. What a fool he'd been, to think he could outrun his past and reach for such a future.  
  
He wasn't sure how long he'd been there when the door opened and softly closed again. He could hear Wufei's breathing, but hadn't the strength to look at him, to risk reading his expression in the darkness. But he heard the soft whispered of bare feet and silk, first to the book cases, and then to his chair, and so was not taken completely off guard when warm hands closed over his, and he felt a kiss pressed to the top of his bowed head.   
  
"Wufei!" he sat up, blinking in sudden light as Wufei turned on the small lamp on the table next to his chair. He was smiling, and held a leather bound volume in one hand. With the other he gently pushed Zechs back in the chair, then sat down on his lap, his body warm and relaxed and naked under the thin rich fabric. After a moment's hesitation, Zechs put his arms around his waist and Wufei leaned easily against his shoulder as he began thumbing through the book. Finding his place at last, he looked up again and smiled again. "We began our courtship with poetry. It seems the best language now. I found this a while ago, but never got the chance to share it with you. So, Swinburne, nineteenth century British, from "Atalanta in Calydon."  
  
_"For winter's rains and ruins are over,  
And all the seasons of snows and sins;  
The days dividing lover and lover,  
The light that loses, the night that wins;  
And time remembered is grief forgotten,  
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,  
And in green underwood and cover  
Blossom by blossom the spring begins."_  
  
He closed the book and laid it aside, then took Zechs's face between his hands. "I don't know if that's clear enough, so let me add this: I have no claim on your past, or you on mine, such as it is. It would be illogical to blame you for something that happened before we even knew each other. But all that we have been has made us who we are now, and who I am now is someone who cannot imagine being without you. I have experienced that, and quite frankly, it was not pleasant. So, say something?"  
  
Zechs stared up into those beautiful dark eyes and managed a broken little laugh. "I'm at a loss, except that I love you, and I always will. No poetry, just the truth, from the bottom of my heart."  
  
Wufei leaned in and kissed him deeply. "That's all I need or want, my love. Will you take me to bed now, and finish what we started?"  
  
"What we---?"  
  
"Make love to me, Zechs. With your body. No more---toys." He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Forgive me. It was a bad idea. All I want is you."  
  
The last of Zechs's fear and doubt fell away as he rose with Wufei in his arms and carried him back to their bedroom. He laughed outright at what he found there. The lights were off, the bed was turned down, and every candle in the room was lit, washing the scene in a warm sensuous glow. Two thick clean towels lay on Zechs's pillow, and the large bottle of lube.   
  
He laid Wufei down on his side of the wide bed and watched as the boy undid the tie of his robe and pushed it aside to bare his body to Zechs's hungry gaze. With the same sensual grace, he spread his legs and pulled the tie from his hair, letting it fan across the pillow, then held his arms out for Zechs. "Love me, Zechs."  
  
Zechs let his own robe fall and climbed onto the bed, poised above his little love, holding himself up with his arms. "You are the last, the only one I take to my bed, Wufei."  
  
Wufei pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him, then follow the finger with his lips. After a long kiss, he smiled and pulled Zechs down on top of him.  
  
Still careful not to press too hard on his lover's smaller, still fragile body, Zechs lost himself in kisses and caresses until they were rolling around the bed together, kissing and fondling each other all over, building the heat and passion. When Zechs tried to move down and take Wufei's erection between his lips again, however, Wufei caught him and pressed the bottle of lube into his hand. "Please?"  
  
"You're not too sore?"  
  
"No. I want you---inside." Suddenly shy again, he turned over and raised his hips. His cheek was pressed to the pillow, but his eyes never left Zechs's. "I've been researching. It's-it's supposed to be easier this way."  
  
"Yes." Zechs would have preferred to have him face to face, but knew that until Wufei was more broken in, this was the best way. So he kissed him again, then kissed his way down his slender back to lick his balls and lap his way up to the reddened, winking little opening. For all his modesty, Wufei loved to be rimmed and Zechs took his time, making a banquet of his lover's firm golden buttocks, probing his hole until it was soft and slick and pulsing with need. Only then did he reach for the lube and the towels Wufei had so considerately provided. Spreading one between Wufei's spread knees to protect the sheets, he coated his aching erection and Wufei's, then worked one, then two, then three fingers into Wufei's upturned ass until he was as open as could be expected.   
  
"It'll be better if I do this quickly, I think," he panted.   
  
"I trust you," Wufei murmured back.   
  
Zechs took his cock in hand and guided the swollen red tip to Wufei's opening. He saw Wufei's fingers lock onto the sides of the pillow as he sank in with one steady thrust. He paused, feeling the slick muscles of Wufei's passage flex and relax to accept the invasion. When he saw those clenched fingers ease their grip, he began a slow, shallow thrusting, and heard Wufei gasp, then whine, then moan as the flaring edges of Zechs's glans massaged the sensitive, hidden bump of his prostate.  
  
"Oh, Zechs!" Without warning, he pushed up on his arms and began thrusting back with a slow rhythm that perfectly complimented Zechs's own motion.   
  
"Wufei! Wufei! Wufei!" The beloved name spilled from his lips like a prayer, a mantra of pleasure. "Nothing has ever compared to this, my beautiful---sweet--- lovely---Wufei!"  
  
"It feels so good!" Wufei wailed, and reared back more, so that he was sitting in Zech's lap, riding up and down on his cock.   
  
Zechs took Wufei's oiled cock on one hand, and fondled his silky balls with the other, and Wufei wailed his pleasure and panted his name, begging for more. Lost as he was in his own rising ecstasy, Zech was careful to control his thrusts, unwilling to cause him pain.   
  
"Yes! So good! Don't stop!" Wufei sobbed.   
  
Zechs kissed his cheek, lapping his tears, and increased the rhythm of his hand on his lover's cock. The flesh was so hard against his palm, and hot, so hot!   
  
Suddenly Wufei's breath went ragged and his whole body began to shake. "Zechs! Zechs! O god Zechs I'm going to---to---"  
  
"Come for me, mei!" Zechs gasped, feeling his own climax building to inexorable completion. "Come with me!"  
  
They came together, shuddering and mingling their cries as Wufei's white ejaculate shot into the air to coat his belly and chest and Zechs's pumping hand, and Zechs came hot and hard and deep in the secret recesses of his lover's elegant, sweat-slicked body.  
  
With a last wild cry Wufei went limp against him. Zechs had enough presence of mind to swipe the soiled towel aside as he lowered him to the sheets. Collapsing beside him, he pulled Wufei into his arms and held him as he laughed and gasped and cuddled against his chest. Still panting himself, Zechs found the other towel and used it to clean them both as best he could, then gave up and just lay there, reveling in the after glow. "I love you, Wufei. And I owe you a poem, don't I? It's from that book of Japanese poetry you left behind that day. I forget the poet, but it reminded me of you." He combed his fingers through Wufei's tousled hair, winding the strands around his fingers.  
  
_"A thousand strands of glistening deep black  
hair in tangles,   
tangles, all intertangled  
like my dreams of you."_  
  
Wufei chuckled and caught a strand of Zech's long pale hair where it lay across his lover's chest, and wound it together with a lock of his own.   
  
_"'This morning I will not_ comb my hair._  
It has lain_ pillowed on the hand of my lover.'"_  
  
"A lovely sentiment, but perhaps impractical," Zechs whispered, kissing the mingled strands.   
  
"Then I'll tell you one that came to me while you waited in the library. It's from the same book, by the poet Izumi Shikibu."  
__  
"My black hair tangled  
As my own tangled thoughts,   
I lie here alone,   
Dreaming of one who has gone,   
Who stroked my hair till it shone."  
  
He brought Zechs's hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "And I knew I could never bear to be alone again, having known your touch, and your love. The past is past, Zechs, and the future can't be known. We only have today and today I am happy, because of you. Nothing else matters. So no more worries, or secrets, or doubts? No more regrets. We've had enough of all that, haven't we?"  
  
"Yes, we have. We live in the present, together."


	108. New York, New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm  
> \--  
> Smutfest!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Trowa and his company landed in New York in the middle of a freezing blizzard. During the shuttle ride into Manhattan everyone stared in dismay at the dim outline of skyscrapers and bare trees, dark grey shapes through the snow.   
  
They took over several floors of the Midtown Tower Hotel, owned by Quatre's sister Jasmine, who still liked him and let them have the rooms for free. Trowa, Quatre, Heero and Duo had the rooftop penthouse. There were three bedrooms, one for Wufei and Zechs when they came for the opening. It was a beautiful suite, but Trowa hardly noticed because he was hardly ever there.  
  
He was banking on the showman's creed, "There's no such thing as bad publicity." Everything they'd been through--the shootings and the bombing, the engagements, Quatre's ongoing feud with his family and the lawsuit--it had all had delayed their opening here, but at least kept them in the news. And though he didn't confide his doubts to anyone, he suspected they were going to need every bit of leverage they could get.   
  
New Orleans was a warm, lusty mistress who loved her artists, native or newcomer. New York was a cold hard bitch and damned hard to impress, right up there with Berlin and Paris, their next two venues. If they bombed there after such a long hiatus, it was going to hurt, and hurt bad. They'd made money in New Orleans, but the delays had cost them. If they weren't a hit this time, then other venues could cancel, bills would mount, and he'd fail all the people who'd followed him on this wild ride. Especially Kat, who'd given up everything, and nearly ended up in a mental hospital because of it.   
  
Because of him.  
  
To fail with the show would be to fail Quatre. And he'd fail Duo and Heero, too, who'd invested so much heart in the new show, not to mention their insanely generous financial investment at Christmas.  
  
All this ate at him, along with all the usual stress of putting up a show, but he kept it inside and kept up the mask, hoping that Quatre wouldn't pick up on how deep his worries ran.   
  
The brutal winter cold continued with a vengeance as the rowdies arrived to set up in the Strawberry Fields section of Central Park. Even with the atmospheric dome set up over the tent and changing areas, it was not going to be the same ambience as the Big Easy. It was up to Trowa and his performers to generate the heat.   
  
Fortunately for him, there was no way four ex-Gundam pilots were going to let a little thing like the weather fuck up their mission planning. It was Quatre, with his usual flair for logistics, who came up with the idea for the pre-show blitz. New York was big, so they have to do everything they'd done before on a grander scale.  
  
Instead of the four of them roaming the clubs to drum up interest, they divided the whole circus company into eight masked and scantily costumed teams, each one with members dressed like Trowa's ringmaster and the others in their show costumes, right down to Duo's long braid. Bitter cold precluded roaming the streets so Heero chartered a small fleet of busses to take the various groups around to gay bars, dance clubs, art galleries, bath houses, porno theaters, and other adult venues where they went on what Duo described as "commando rampages", performing street acts, some lewd acts, and throwing around handfuls of the silver tickets. By prearranged (and paid for) agreement with the owners of the venues, at exactly midnight the lights would suddenly go out and dark music would begin to pulse, an intro to Trowa's lewd, husky voice singing his version of pre Colony songwriter Leonard Cohen's anthem "First We Take Manhattan." Heero had discovered that one with his usual accomplished researching, and it fit amazingly well.  
  
As the intro built, the Ringmaster of each group emerged from a roiling crowd of half naked, painted "things" and lip-synced:  
  
"They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom   
For trying to change the system from within   
I'm coming now; I'm coming to reward them   
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin.  
  
I'm guided by a signal in the heavens   
I'm guided by these scars deep on my skin   
I'm guided by the beauty of our bodies   
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin."  
  
At this point Quatre's stand-in crawled up to twin himself around the ringmaster as Quatre's higher voice continued:   
  
"I'd really like to live beside you, baby   
I love your body and your spirit and your clothes   
But you see that line there moving through the station?   
I told you, I told you, told you, I was one of those."  
  
Then "Trowa" would continue to the crowd:  
  
"Ah you loved me as a loser, but now you're worried that I just might win.   
You know the way to stop me, but you don't have the discipline.   
How many nights I prayed for this, to let my work begin--   
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin!"  
  
+  
  
The initial press was mixed. Some critics loved it. Others slammed them--hard, calling it trite and silly grandstanding. The first week of shows sold out anyway, but free tickets were seen in gutters or tossed in public urinals. Others were spotted fluttering in the wake of subway trains. Yet others wound up in the hands of scalpers, going for three times the original rate.   
  
The others were worried, too, but no one said a word.   
  
Their days were taken up with rehearsals. Trowa and Heero had to train especially hard for their act, which had turned out far more complex than originally planned, thanks to Heero's enthusiastic participation. He still had those near superhuman reflexes, and he was stronger than most, even now. He'd taken to aerial work, and for much the same reasons Trowa loved it so. It was the closest thing to flying a Gundam either of them had found.   
  
Duo and Quatre had several acts of their own. Though not as dangerous as Trowa's "Blue Duet", neither of them were completely back to top physical form, especially Quatre, who was still in a walking cast, and had to work around those restrictions. Duo was harder to rein in, and Heero had his hands full with that. Loud sex at night in their own room seemed to be one of his preferred methods. For the first time in his life, Trowa found it a distraction. And it only made him feel guiltier about his own neglect of Quatre in that department but apart from a few quick morning blowjobs, his energies all seemed to flow into the show. Quatre didn't complain, but Trowa knew he hated sleeping alone in that big hotel bed.  
  
When he wasn't at the practice hall, he was overseeing every other act, hanging over Kat and Duo as they put the final touches on the new sets and costumes, wrangling with sponsors, advertisers, reporters, financial backers, more reporters . . .   
  
What little sleep he got was too often exhausted catnaps on the sofa. By two days before the show opened, he'd lost several pounds and was having trouble forcing food down. He caught the others giving him looks of concern, but there was nothing he could do but forge on. There was too much riding on his strength and determination to slack off now. Wufei and Zechs were due to arrive the following day, to help them celebrate opening night. Trowa wasn't sure he'd be in the mood to celebrate anything.   
  
+  
  
Quatre had monitored Trowa's state with increasing alarm. "Red Silk" was on hold until Quatre was well enough for the follow up act, since Trowa refused to perform it with anyone else, but the replacement act with Heero was every bit as dangerous, and Trowa couldn't be this exhausted and be safe.   
  
In the past, he'd always been able to calm Trowa, with sex, with music, with massage or just holding him. But Trowa couldn't stay still long enough for anything, and as much as Quatre tried, he would not listen to reason.  
  
The morning before Wufei and Zechs were due to arrive he tried again, and ended up having a nasty, screaming fight with Trowa instead, which ended with Trowa slamming out before he'd even eaten breakfast, leaving Quatre defeated and in tears.   
  
As he sat dejectedly in the middle of the bed Trowa had not slept in since their arrival, Heero and Duo appeared from their own room, looking as troubled as Quatre felt. "You heard," Quatre sniffled, wiping his face on the sheet as they joined him on the bed and wrapped their arms around him.  
  
"Pretty hard not to," Duo admitted, rubbing his back.  
  
"He and I had words yesterday, too, during rehearsal," Heero told him. "I've never seen him so tense, not even during the war. Was he like this before the New Orleans opening?"  
  
"No, I've never seen him like this. It was fun then, even though it was such hard work and all so new. I think--" He paused, wiping his eyes again and cursing his own crybaby nature. He knew Trowa hadn't meant any of the harsh things he'd spat at him before. "I think he feels there's more to lose now, and he hadn't kept up with his sessions with Dr. B. and so much has happened since--since--"  
  
"Since I came back," Heero finished. "It's been a very strange time. I'm sorry. So much of it was my fault."  
  
"Don't say that!" Quatre burrowed deeper into Heero's arms and pressing his face to his friend's warm, hard chest. "It was those awful people from Japan, and my rotten family, and the press and . . . and . . ."  
  
He went completely to pieces then, sobbing uncontrollably as Heero rocked him and Duo stroked his back and hair.   
  
"You're as exhausted as he is, you know," Duo said.   
  
"What am I going to do?" Quatre gasped. "Tro's right. We must make this work!"  
  
"The two of you self destructing isn't going to help," Heero said, kissing his wet cheek. "There's no Circus without you two. So here's what we're going to do."   
  
+  
  
That afternoon Duo got Trowa on the phone, chewed him out royally for hurting Quatre, and informed him that his husband was sick in bed and that he'd better get his sorry ass back to the suite a.s.a-fucking-p.  
  
"How did he take it?" Quatre asked worriedly, folding back the covers on the freshly made bed.  
  
Duo grinned. "Oh, he's on his way, either to apologize to you or kill me. Maybe both." **  
  
Trowa had been sick with guilt all morning after his fight with Quatre, and the feeling had gotten worse when the other three did not show up at the tent for morning practice. Duo's angry call was just the icing on the cake. He could barely sit still during the short cab ride back to the hotel. His stomach felt like a clenched fist and every nerve was rubbed raw. He wanted to cry or put his fist through the cab window, or just grab his head and scream.   
  
He was vaguely aware of the strange looks he got from the cabbie, and more as he stormed across the elegant lobby. People dodged out of his way, and out of the elevator, too. Catching sight of his face in the polished paneling inside, he could see why. He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to calm himself. He'd been enough of a shit for one day. He would apologize to Quatre and find some way to make things up to him.   
  
By the time the elevator bell sounded for the penthouse, however, his heart was pounding, his head ached and his stomach didn't feel very well, either.   
  
Goddamn, if he was actually coming down sick . . !  
  
"Meli?"   
  
Trowa looked around the sitting room of the suite with concern. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn against the gray afternoon light. There was no sign of Duo or Heero, which was probably just as well. He slipped off his wet shoes and strode across to the bedroom he shared with Kat. The door was closed and as he reached to open it, he was surprised to see the golden glow of candle light under the door, and caught a rich, heady scent. His quick, sensual mind knew it at once: frankincense oil. Quatre used that for his massages when Trowa was particularly stressed. Trowa smiled wanly as he turned the knob. He was in no mood to relax. There was too damn much left to . . .  
  
Rational thought shut down as he took in the sight that greeted him. The curtains were drawn and candles burned on the dresser, illuminating the three smiling, very naked friends waiting for him. Quatre, wearing nothing but a knowing smile and his cast, lay across the towel-draped bed and Heero and Duo stood beside it. Their bare skin gleamed in the soft light, all covered in the fragrant oil. They'd used depilatory cream everywhere to accommodate the revealing costumes they'd be wearing. The sight of those bare cock and hairless bellies and balls shining with oil like that, together with the way they were looking at him sent him into sensory overload. Speechless, Trowa stood gaping in the doorway, still gripping the doorknob in case his knees gave out.  
  
"I know you're busy, and I know you're stressed," Quatre said, sitting up. He didn't look sick or angry at all. "I know the last thing you want right now is to stop and take a break, but trust me, love, you must, and we're going to make sure you do."  
  
Heero and Duo pulled him into the room and made short work of Trowa's clothing. Duo sent jacket and tee shirt sailing into a dark corner, while Heero's nimble fingers undid his jeans and yanked them and his briefs down around his knees. Strong, wiry arms--Duo's-when the hell had he moved??--hooked under Trowa's, tipping him back so Heero could divest him of boots, socks and pants with a couple of rough tugs. As he straightened up from that task, Heero rubbed the entire front of his hot, hard, oiled body up the length of Trowa's torso. An oily, cuddly Duo was rubbing from behind and Trowa was getting pretty well oiled himself by the time they none too gently led him toward the bed, where Quatre sat, bottle in hand, ready to finish the job.  
  
Trowa surrendered, stretching out on his back in front of him and letting Duo pull his arms over his head and hold them. Quatre poured heated oil down his chest, belly and lavished more on his own bare genitals, then all three of then went to work with their hands, kneading and caressing every tense, aching, worried inch of him, fingertips to balls to the arch of each foot. The scent of the oil had its own magic. Quatre knew a lot about aromatherapy, but he'd never tell Trowa what the properties were, claiming they'd work better if he didn't know.   
  
All Trowa knew right now was that the smell of frankincense, mingled with the heat and touch of three strong sets of male hands and the underlying scent of three beloved male bodies, was driving him out of what was left of his mind. Beyond rational speech, he moaned and groaned appreciatively as the massage remained more therapeutic than sexual. That was all right. He'd missed this, been a fool not to ask for this--the touch of his Quatre and the others. It was all melting him into the bed, every muscle gone lax and soft.  
  
Well, almost every one. Then again, the cock was not a muscle so much as a hydraulic lift and the pressure was building. He couldn't keep his eyes open. Someone's slick hand-Quatre's probably, wrapped loosely around his shaft and stroked it.   
  
"What do you need, Trowa?" Quatre whispered.  
  
Tears welled in the corners of Trowa's eyes. Only hours before he'd shouted hateful, hurtful things at his meli and now here he was, offering forgiveness as only he could. Weeks of stress, night of abstinence robbed him of all higher brain function and he could only gasp out faintly, "You, Corazon! God, I've been such a prick!"  
  
"And not in a good way," Duo readily agreed.  
  
Heero chuckled and then Trowa was being lifted up, turned, and found himself kneeling behind Quatre, who looked over his shoulder and gave Trowa one of those scorching wanton looks only someone as normally innocent looking as Quatre could deliver. As Trowa and the others watched, he pressed two oiled fingers into his own asshole and rode them. "All ready for you, baby. Come on in."  
  
Trowa's oiled hands slid and clutched at those narrow hips, trying for purchase as his wobbly, relaxed body swayed. Suddenly there was a strong warm presence behind him. Heero held him up, supporting him with one strong arm around Trowa's waist. Duo knelt beside them, grasping Trowa's erection and guiding the tip of it to Quatre's pink hole, just teasing the puckered opening.   
  
Heero held him, erection nestled firmly between Trowa's ass cheeks but not entering, and used his pelvis to move Trowa's back and forth, while Duo guided his cock so that he was head-fucking Quatre in slow, shallow strokes. With agonizing slowness, they controlled his every move, gradually feeding his cock deeper and deeper into Quatre's tight channel.   
  
Trowa could still only gasp and groan as he was caressed and overwhelmed by three hot bodies. When he was fully seated at last, Heero bit him gently on the back of the neck and murmured, "You can take it from here, can't you, 03?"  
  
Trowa certainly could. As Heero and Duo moved away, he withdrew long enough to help Quatre over onto his back and pull his legs up over his shoulders. "Want to see you, meli. Bellissimo! Beautiful angel baby!"  
  
Quatre welcomed him back in with a throaty moan, digging his fingers into the fronts of Trowa's tensed thighs. "Fuck me, Trowa! Been too long. Take me hard!"  
  
Pulling Quatre up into his arms, legs around Trowa's waist, he did just that.  
  
+  
  
Sometimes it was good to have an empath as a best friend. Quatre had known without it having to be said that Duo didn't want Heero to fuck Trowa today, and not just because Trowa had been a bastard all week. Deep down, if he was really honest with himself, he really didn't want to share Heero again. Not like that, anyway. That one crazy drunk night had been ok, he guessed, but sober, he just couldn't get into the idea and wondered if it bothered Heero. Quatre had picked up on that, too, and must have said something to Heero, because while they were getting ready for Tro's arrival he'd grabbed Duo from behind, nibbled under his ear in the place that drove Duo nuts, and whispered, "It's all foreplay, little mermaid. You'd better be ready for me when we're done."  
  
The words, growled low against his ear, had sent a jolt straight to Duo's cock, and he felt the same deep thrill now, as Heero caught his hand and pulled him from the bed, leaving Trowa in Quatre's capable---ass.  
  
Heero had gotten even stronger practicing for the circus. He lifted Duo effortlessly into his arms and onto his rock hard erection. "You're mine now. Gonna fuck you so good!"  
  
Duo wrapped his legs around Heero and slid down further on his cock, impaling himself with a guttural yell of pleasure. "Oh baby! Do it!"  
  
Heero pinned him to the wall by the open door, slamming up into him so deep he saw stars. "Christ Heero, you're so--Ah! Oh baby!"  
  
Similar sounds were coming from the bed. Looking over Heero's shoulder, Duo saw Trowa plowing Quatre with long slow strokes, the two of them lost in each other's adoring gaze. It was a beautiful sight, and a very intimate one, too.   
  
"Mmph-Heero. Our room. Now."  
  
Heero hardly missed a beat, still fucking him as he carried Duo out into the sitting room on the way to their room. With his back to the room, Duo didn't at first understand what made him halt halfway to their door or the way Heero's arms tightened around him. But there was no mistaking the fact that Heero was reacting to something that Duo couldn't see. Twisting around, fingers itching for weapons left behind with his clothes, he found himself face to face with a smirking Zechs and a very startled, red-faced Wufei. They stood just inside the suite door, snow still on the shoulders of their long overcoats and in their hair, suitcases on a wheeled rack beside them.   
  
Zechs held up the key card with an apologetic look that didn't quite defeat the smirk. "We caught an earlier-"  
  
Heero cut him off with a curt grunt and a nod toward the bedroom reserved for them, then carried Duo on into theirs and kicked the door closed, but not before Duo heard Trowa's expletive laden climax through their still open door, and Wufei's outraged, "I told you we should have called ahead!"  
  
Duo didn't hear anything after that but the sound of the bedsprings as Heero threw him down and fucked him straight to heaven.  
  
+  
  
Wufei closed their bedroom door and leaned back against it, covering his eyes with one hand willing the hot blush in his cheeks to subside.  
  
"I could get us another suite," Zechs suggested, setting their bags down by the closet. On the other side of the wall, Quatre cried out sharply, a sob of pleasure.  
  
"No, I'm used to it," Wufei sighed. "All I want right now is a hot bath and a nap.   
  
Another moan came through the wall and Zechs grinned and came over, cupping Wufei's chin in one hand and brushing his lips against his. "Are you sure that's all you want?"  
  
Wufei wanted to say yes, that was all, but the delicacy of his lover's touch and the mix of amusement and lust in his lover's blue eyes stopped the words before he could say so. Scents lingered on the air, even with the door closed: bodies and sex and some sweet, heavy perfume. It impossible to shake off the sight of Duo impaled on Heero's thick cock, and the glimpse he'd had through the open doorway of Trowa's room . . .  
  
"Oh hell," he muttered against Zechs's lips. He let his coat slide off his shoulders to the floor and reached to push at Zechs's. "But if you think I'm letting you sleep in their bed tonight, after that . . ."  
  
That's as far as he got before Zechs scooped him up and carried him to the bed.


	109. Thin Walls and Open Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm  
> \--  
> Continuation of Ch. 108. A little pwp smutfest, just 'cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero's "sensory overload" plan had worked perfectly. Trowa hadn't stood a chance from the moment he appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. Quatre had felt the tension spike at first, then flow out of him as they massaged him, to be replaced by a healthy rekindling of erotic need that was Trowa's more natural state of mind. Heero and Duo had worked their magic and withdrawn. Quatre was so deeply into the scene by then that he scarcely noticed them go, aware of nothing now but the way the Trowa took him face up, so slow and sweet and deep.   
  
The sex went on and on, the way Trowa could, and Quatre didn't think he'd ever get enough of the sensation of that huge cock sliding in and out of his own tight body. The stretching, the well-oiled friction, the way the flaring glans licked and rubbed his prostate-it was all enough to drive him out of his mind, especially when coupled with Trowa's deep green gaze. As they held each other with their eyes and bodies and moved together in their primal dance of union, the rest of the world ceased to be. He was only faintly aware of Trowa's breathy, caressing chant: ti amo, ti amo, bellissimo, ti amo . . . Quatre loved Italian, the rich way it spilled like honey from his lover's tongue.  
  
Sobbing his ecstasy, Quatre came in hot white spurts against Trowa's taut belly, but his husband was not done and the continued stimulation drew Quatre's orgasm out and brought it back up in a series of sharp, bright peaks before Trowa's thrusts grew erratic and harsh and the sweet words gave way to equally sweet guttural obscenities. He arched back, every muscle tight as he filled Quatre with his heat and passion with powerful drives deep inside.   
  
"JesusFUCKoChristmerdeSHITOFUCKINGHELL . . ."  
  
Quatre felt semen leaking and squirting out around the base of Trowa's plunging cock, there was so much. It tickled as it ran down the cleft of his bottom to pool on the sheets. He didn't care about wet spots right now as he locked his ankles behind Trowa's neck. His lover bent him double and delivered a few last pile driver thrusts. When it was over he kissed Quatre breathlessly, murmured a final " Eu te amo, meu angel pequeno bonito!" and collapsed over on his back beside him, asleep before his head hit the pillow.  
  
Far from hurt, Quatre happily pulled the blankets up and cuddled down beside him, nestling into Trowa's fragrantly sweaty armpit and nuzzling in under his chin. Trowa muttered happily in his sleep and wrapped his arm around Quatre's shoulders, radiating complete and utter contentment.  
  
Wrapped in his own golden afterglow, Quatre was just dozing off when he heard a moan of pleasure from the next room. At first he assumed the Heero and Duo must of taken things more slowly than he and Trowa, but after a moment he realized that the voice he was hearing was coming from the wrong direction and didn't sound like either of his friends.  
  
No, this was more of a high-pitched keen or wail, almost as if someone was in pain.  
  
Alarmed, he slipped from Trowa's embrace and went to the open door of their room. Heero and Duo, both still naked and nicely flushed, were at their own door, grinning like maniacs. Duo put a finger to his lips, then pointed to the door of the suite's third bedroom, which was now closed. The moaning and wailing was louder now, and filled with what were probably words, but blurred and indistinct. But it sounded like someone was begging for something.   
  
"They got in early," Heero whispered.  
  
"You mean that's---"  
  
Just then a voice that was most certainly Wufei's, though it was hard to believe, cried out, "In. Put it in! Ah. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" The cry choked off to another high-pitched, almost feminine keen that grew suddenly deeper and more rhythmic and unmistakably male.  
  
Quatre and Duo both clamped hands over their mouths, stifling amazed laughter.   
  
Apparently Wufei had overcome his "problems" regarding Zechs's size, for there was no mistaking the sound of someone being thoroughly and wildly fucked, or the harsh, deep cries that underscored each escalating cry. As they reached their crescendo Quatre and the others heard Zechs's triumphant snarl of completion, and then all fell silent except for a low murmuring.  
  
Duo's eyes looked big enough to fall right out of his head. Heero said nothing, but had the beginnings of a fresh erection. Suddenly Quatre felt another very large one nudge the small of his back as Trowa wrapped his arms around him from behind and murmured, "Was that what I think it was?"  
  
Before Quatre could answer their guests' door suddenly opened and Zechs came out, naked as the dawn and still sporting what could only be described as an Olympic sized semi-erection. Finding the four of them lurking there, he just grinned and scratched his very large, cum flecked balls and winked. "We need a towel and some water."  
  
"Umm, there's mineral water in the fridge over there," Quatre managed, forcing his gaze away from those amazing genitals as Zechs sauntered on to the bathroom, showing not the slightest hint of embarrassment.   
  
"Clydesdale!" muttered Duo.  
  
"Yeah!" Quatre breathed, now admiring the way the muscles in Zechs's rock hard ass flexed as he disappeared into the bathroom and aware that Trowa was all but drooling on his shoulder.   
  
The brief glimpses he'd had of Zechs in New Orleans had been under less than optimal conditions, with Trowa off his head and waving a gun. On Earth Fall eve he'd had a few more glimpses but Zechs hadn't been aroused then. "He's even bigger than Trowa!" he thought with the slightest twinge of jealousy, all his suspicions confirmed. And on the heels of that, "And Wufei is so slight!"  
  
Without thinking, he glanced in through the door Zechs had left partly ajar and caught sight of Wufei sprawled face down on the bed, seemingly unconscious. His long, wildly disarrayed hair obscured his face and his thighs were still widely parted. Quatre swallowed hard and blushed at the sight of all that white cum streaking those golden cheeks and thighs.   
  
He was about to pull the door closed for Wufei's sake, but before he could Duo barged through and jumped on the bed beside him. "Wu man! Welcome to the club, bro!"  
  
Wufei started violently, then scrambled under the sheet and pulled it up to his chin, his face scarlet with embarrassment and outrage. "Maxwell! How dare you! What the hell are you doing in--?"  
  
Far from being chastened, Duo just crowded in beside him and threw an arm around Wufei's bare shoulders. Wufei looked like he was going to faint from shock.  
  
"Duo, come out of there and leave him alone!" Heero growled.  
  
"What? I just wanted to welcome him into the Loud Sex Club!" Duo said, still unmoved by Wufei's obvious horror with the situation.  
  
Zechs shouldered past all of them, now with a towel wrapped around his hips, carrying another and two bottles of water. Setting them down on the nightstand, he grabbed Duo by the base of his braid and lifted him off the bed, keeping his grip high enough that Duo had to stay on tiptoe to keep from getting his hair pulled too painfully.   
  
"I have it on good authority that you like to be spanked, Duo," he said as he marched him to the door. "I can promise you that you wouldn't like it if it came from me. Scoot and quit teasing Wufei." Giving Duo a resounding smack on the backside, he sent him through the door into Heero's waiting arms and closed the door after him.  
  
"Owwww!" Duo yowled, rubbing his bottom as he sent a hurt look at the closed door.  
  
"Serves you right," Heero told him, giving him another smack, then pulling him by the hand back to their room.   
  
"Well that certainly was---" Quatre broke off as he turned to find Trowa staring at him with passion glazed eyes, cock at weeping attention.   
  
"That was so---Meli!" With that he grabbed Quatre up in his arms, kicked the door shut, and threw him on the bed.  
  
"Uck, I'm on the wet spot!" Quatre laughed.   
  
Trowa overwhelmed all further objections by kissing and caressing him into submission and soon they were making sweet noisy love of their own all over again.  
  
+  
  
"Are you all right, mei?" Zechs asked as Wufei still cowered under the sheets.  
  
"You could have closed the door!"  
  
"They caught me by surprise, love."  
  
"And you were walking around naked!"  
  
"You didn't give me any time to unpack, remember?" Zechs chuckled, pulling the covers out of his death grip to slide in beside him with the towel. There was semen everywhere and he did his best to wipe up the worst of it. "You have to admit, we had a good time. It was hot, listening to them while we-"  
  
Wufei clapped his hands over his ears and buried his face against Zechs's chest. "Don't talk about it! They could hear us, too!"  
  
"Apparently. Ah, there they go again!"  
  
Sure enough, they could hear Trowa and Quatre panting and moaning together, and what might have been more lusty calls from the room beyond.  
  
"Perverts!" Wufei groaned.  
  
"But so am I, or haven't you noticed?" Zechs teased. "And what about you? As I recall, it was you tearing my clothes off a little while ago."  
  
"Yes, but I closed the door first!"  
  
Zechs captured Wufei's chin and tilted his face up, searching those dark eyes for any signs of real anger. "I'm sorry. I won't let that happen again. Forgive me?"  
  
Wufei tried to glare at him, but instead burst out into poorly concealed laughter and hid his face against Zechs again. "I suppose Duo was right. Though it hardly begins to pay back all the times I've been forced to listen to all of them!"  
  
Zechs laughed too, then guided Wufei's hand to his erection. "Care to even the score some more? It's early yet."  
  
Wufei gave him a scandalized look, but it was ruined by a passionate cry from the next room that dissolved him into helpless laughter again. "I doubt they'd notice right now."  
  
Zechs rolled on top of him and laced his fingers with Wufei's, pinning his hands to the bed over his head. "Ah, but I will."  
  
Wufei caught his breath and a flush spread prettily across his cheekbones. "Then take me. I'm stretched all ready. All you have to do is spread my legs and shove it in."  
  
Zechs gaped a moment, at once shocked and aroused by the unexpectedly coarse language.   
  
"Blame Maxwell," Wufei told him, his eyes gleaming with lust and amusement. "Do you want me or not, my emperor?"  
  
"Always!" Zechs groaned. Pulling Wufei's right leg around his hip, he guided his cock to that willing little opening and plunged into the heavenly depths again.  
  
In no time the suite was filled with a symphony of lust in six parts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeeeeeze! I don't know if it's the weather or the alignment of the planets or not writing more often or whatthehell, but the boys wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this for them! Hopefully they can get back to more serious work now! P


	110. On With the Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Zechs woke first. The room was dark and he could hear snow hissing against the windowpane across the room. Wufei was curled fast asleep against him, snuggled close against his left side. It was at times like this that Zechs most missed having a flesh and blood arm. He wanted to feel every bit of his little lover, all the time. He lay a moment longer, relishing the warmth and scent of him.  
  
Wufei's left hand rested on his chest and Zechs smiled, admiring the ruby engagement ring shining on that slender finger.  
  
God, he was a lucky man.  
  
He checked the clock on the nightstand: it was after eight, New York time. His head was still on European time, but his stomach agreed with the clock.  
  
He smoothed a stray strand of hair away from Wufei's cheek and kissed him softly on the forehead. "Wake up, mei. Time to go find some dinner."  
  
"Mmmmm. Cold outside." Wufei snuggled closer. "Room service?"  
  
Zechs chuckled. "Shall I feed you in bed? Perhaps can we fit the others all in, too."  
  
"Others--?" Wufei sighed and opened his eyes, looking a little confused until he remembered where they were. "Oh. Oh! Oh god, how am I going to face them after all that? I was loud, wasn't I?"  
  
"Deliciously loud. But no louder than they were."  
  
+  
  
No one had bothered to get dressed. Duo was in Heero's robe and Heero was in sweats and bare-chested. Quatre was in a long stripped robe that hung to his ankles and looked like it probably belonged to Trowa, who had on pajama pants and a black CdN tee shirt. Zechs threw on his own robe and at his silent insistence, Wufei found himself forced to appear in the sitting room wearing the embroidered blue silk robe that Zechs had given him the first night they'd made love.  
  
No one said anything but their surprised and admiring looks made him blush. At least he was comfortable, and the long skirt of the robe hid the fact that he was walking a little oddly. He could still only manage anal sex once or twice a week. Even with the use of the larger butt plugs to stretch his channel, he was still unable to accommodate Zechs without great care on both their parts. At least he hadn't bled this time.  
  
While Zechs and the others perused the room service menu, Wufei sat down gingerly on the sofa. Quatre joined him on the sofa with a knowing smile.  
  
"I'm so happy for you!" he said, wrapping his arms around his knees and speaking so only Wufei could hear.  
  
"I owe you a great deal," Wufei admitted. "Your advice, back in New Orleans? It did help."  
  
"I'm glad. I can see how happy you both are. The love between you-" Quatre pressed a hand to his heart and shook his head. "Oh Wufei, I'm so glad!"  
  
Duo plopped down between them, wearing Heero's brown silk robe. "Can I hug you now without getting my ass whipped?"  
  
Wufei leaned into him a little, suffering a brief embrace. Across the room, Zechs looked up from the menu he and Trowa were perusing and smiled.  
  
Trowa ordered steak shish kabob and Caesar salads for everyone, and beer, but only a little, just one apiece. When they were done and Heero pushed the room service cart back into the hallway, Trowa rose and headed for the bedroom.  
  
"What's up?" asked Duo.  
  
"Going to work."  
  
"Oh no you're not!" Quatre called after him, his steely side coming to the fore. "We dragged you back here for a decent rest. There's nothing that won't wait 'til morning."  
  
Trowa emerged, already dressed in jeans and jacket, carrying his boots, only to find Heero and Duo blocking the way.  
  
"Everything is ready," Heero said, his voice dropping to the dangerous monotone Wufei still associated with missions. "Quatre's right. The best thing you can do is rest."  
  
"I'm not tired!"  
  
"Well the rest of us are," Duo told him. "You're a real slave driver, Barton. So we're revolting and taking the night off, and so are you." With that they led him back to the couch and pulled him down between them, next to Quatre. For an instant Wufei expected an all out fight, but instead Heero pulled him down so he was resting across his lap and ran his fingers through those long bangs. "Rest, Trowa, so we're fresh."  
  
Trowa seemed to melt under that simple caress, and Wufei wondered that Quatre didn't look the least bit jealous. Instead, he and Duo got Trowa stripped down to his jeans and left him there with his head in Heero's lap and his feet in Quatre's. Heero continued to stroke his hair and shoulders while Quatre rubbed his feet. Duo found an old movie on the room's huge television, and then settled in with his head on Heero's shoulder.  
  
"That looks very comfortable," Zechs chuckled, and stretched out on the loveseat with his head in Wufei's lap. Less self-conscious than he would have been a few months ago, Wufei smiled and threaded his fingers through his lover's pale, silky hair. Zechs practically purred under his touch.  
  
They spent the evening like that, and when Heero and Quatre led a sleepy Trowa off to bed at last, a single backward glance from Quatre was all the invitation Zechs needed. Too sleepy to protest, Wufei went along with it and found himself warmly sandwiched between Zechs and Duo in a bed that smelled of other men's sex. For from being repelled, he fell asleep at once into a dreamless sleep.  
  
+  
  
The others left early the following morning to make the final preparations for the show. Zechs made love to Wufei in the shower with hands and mouth, fed him a large breakfast, and then took him shopping, accompanied discretely by Zechs's security detail. Wufei was almost used to that now. Almost. It was disconcerting to know you were under surveillance at every moment in public; it made him revert to his most reticent ways, and made trying on and modeling new clothing something of a strain. But he did not begrudge it. Zechs was still receiving death threats, sometimes on a daily basis. They both carried side arms, but Wufei had to take his off for the changing rooms, and that left him feeling more naked than if he'd stripped to his skin.  
  
Zechs, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease and thoroughly enjoyed dragging Wufei from store to store and selecting outfits for him. By the they returned to the hotel to get ready of the evening, Wufei was exhausted and had enough new clothes to fill an entire closet. They lay down together to have a nap, but Wufei couldn't sleep until he'd given Zechs a blowjob, which quickly turned into sixty-nine and finger fucking.  
  
Later, as they rode through the bitter cold darkness in a hired limousine, he shifted uncomfortably on the cold seat and almost regretted the latter. Almost.  
  
Arriving at Central Park, Wufei could see the striped tent glimmering like a huge lantern in the darkness between the trees. The public entrance was still barred, and a huge crowed stood outside, not looking especially entertained by the street performers sent out to the keep them amused.  
  
The limo dropped them off at the VIP entrance and the security people hustled them inside to their seats. Looking around, Wufei saw little difference in the set up from New Orleans. The black and silver backdrop was the same spooky motif, and the lighting cast what looked like branch shadow across the circular stage. Among the VIPs who'd also been let in early Wufei recognized the Mayor of New York and her husband, several American congressmen and quite a few famous actors and musicians. In cheaper seats, the press was lined up two rows deep. No wonder Trowa had been so nervous.  
  
The main gates were opened at last, and soft music began. It wasn't the dark song Trowa sang to open the show, but it was his voice, singing something about Manhattan and Berlin.  
  
Every seat was full by the time the lights went out and the real show began.  
  
A single blue spotlight found Trowa. A murmur rippled through the crowd, just as it had in New Orleans. Jaded New Yorkers might be, but Trowa, in his black tailcoat and tight leather pants, face skull white and leering under the brim of his dented black silk top hat was still a sight to see. Wufei was still amazed at his transformation, the way the healthy lean body he'd seen only this morning was transformed to emaciation and pallor. The lights glinted from the silver barbwire at his throat and wrists, and caressed the braided coils of the bullwhip he held so casually in his right hand. He was not alone this time, though. Quatre, nearly naked apart from his mask and body paint, sat beside him, arms wrapped in a sensual embrace around one of Trowa's long, lean thighs.  
  
Trowa caressed his lover's hair with his free hand as that painted mouth widened in a sinister smile.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen." The husky rasp and dangerous edge sent an erotic charge through Wufei and he felt Zechs's fingers tighten on his own as he reacted as well. "Ladies-- and ladies. Gentlemen and not so gentle men!" The whip hand twitched suggestively. "Welcome all, to the Circus della Notte. You may love us. You may hate us. We don't give a fuck. Take us or leave us but you can't leave yet. Not until we've had our way with you. So just lie back and give in. Just for now, you're mine."  
  
There was a light flutter of laughter at that, and then a man yelled out, "Fuck you!"  
  
Trowa's grin widened a little more, positively manic now. "Oh some do, but most get fucked." A sudden flick of the wrist and the bullwhip split the air with a resounding crack and burst of silvery sparks. "Guess which category you fall into, my unseen friend."  
  
With that he launched into his opening spiel about dreams and nightmare. "Our souls are tainted, our dreams often dark, but don't be afraid." He twitched the whip again. "Well, not too afraid, anyway. After all, you're safe out there, outside the charmed circle. My lovelies can't get out, I assure you. Not unless I let them out."  
  
The ring of silver white neon lights that surrounded the stage and the deep, ominous pulse of the opening song began.  
  
Trowa flicked the long whip out to its full length in front of him again, scattering sparks. "So, mes amies, it begins!"  
  
Lowering his head to hide his eyes, he began to sing as a star pattern appeared on the floor and swirled in dizzying patterns.  
  
/Sick things with scars  
Rotate around my stars./  
  
Trowa cracked his whip and Quatre cowered convincingly, pawing at his master's feet.  
  
/Sick things,  
My things!  
My pets, _my_ things!/  
  
The music swelled and lights pulsed. Trowa painted wild patterns on the darkness with h is whip and Wufei gripped Zechs's hand even harder, convinced that Quatre was in actual danger of losing skin or an eye. The black floor rippled and flexed as the hidden "things" roiled beneath it.  
  
/I love you, things, I see  
As much as you love me./  
  
He struck the scrim and the bizarre figures writhed and climbed out, naked except for elaborately molded leather masks and codpieces and body paints.  
  
/You things are heavenly  
When you come worship me!  
You things are chilled with fright  
For I am out tonight.  
You tell me where to bite.  
You whet my appetite!/  
  
The "things" writhed and tore at each other, moved together in sexual display or fought like angry cats.  
  
The music shifted to a deep pulsing beat as the tattered scrim disappeared, revealing the painted stage below, and the small platform Trowa and Quatre were one. The things surged in and ripped Quatre away from him, carrying him across of sea of hands into darkness. Trowa snapped his whip and the creatures cringed back in cowering circle around him. As he sang on it was more like talking, almost a whine.  
  
/I eat my things.  
What looooove it brings!  
Come here, my things  
Don't fear, my little things!/  
  
He beckoned and the creatures advanced on him, more dangerous and predatory by the moment.  
  
/Sick things!/  
/Pretty things!  
Playthings./  
MY THINGS!/  
  
As Wufei remembered, the things overwhelmed him, pawing and groping as Trowa fell back in their grasp, practically masturbating as he caressed his own chest and groin.  
  
/I love these things you see  
As much as they love me.  
My things are heavenly  
When they come worship me!  
You sit there chilled with fright  
When we come out at night.  
We'll fill you with delight.  
We'll whet your APPETITE!!/  
  
Trowa screamed wildly as the 'things' engulfed him, pulling him down and crawling over him with claws flashing. The light went red as the music rose to a shattering dissonance.  
  
No one from the audience heckled now. As the music crashed to silence and a lone spotlight focused on the crushed, abandoned hat, Wufei could hear his own heart beating. There was a collective gasp as something skittered quickly through the light, taking the hat with it, then another flutter of laughter, but this time it sounded more uncertain as blackness fell. There was a long pause, then someone began to clap. Others joined in and soon the darkness was filled with the sound of applause. Not so loud and enthusiastic as New Orleans, perhaps, he noted with concern, but applause just the same.  
  
The acts that followed were those he remembered, for the most part. There was danger and nudity, fire and flying blades. It was primal and sexual and he could feel the crowd warming to it.  
  
Some other woman had taken Catherine Bloom's place for the knife throwing act, but it was as barbaric and sadistic as he remembered, with the hapless man tied spread eagle and naked to a spinning wooden target.  
  
"Red Silk" would have followed, but that act was on hold until Quatre's leg had healed and he could perform in "Meld". It appeared, however that the replacement act would be similar in nature. A soft golden light filled the stage and the mechanical devices overhead silently brought out a long double strip of royal blue silk that reached the ground. At the top there was a long loop of blue cloth Wufei recognized from Quatre's description as something called a "cloud swing," which was a sort of trapeze.  
  
Distracted, he was surprised to look down and find two masked figures in front of the long drape. Instead of the dissonant, pain filled music of Red Silk, this act began with soft, simple piano music. Like most of the show's music that wasn't original compositions by Trowa and Quatre, this was from pre colony times, and chosen by Heero for some connection it had with the location of the tent. Wufei didn't know what Strawberry Fields meant, but it was associated with a composure named Lennon, who'd died in New York. The tune was gentle, melancholy, and the two figures, Trowa and Heero, moved languidly at first, grasping the edges of the silk and using each other's weight to counterbalance a number of falling maneuvers. Then they both began to climb and several "things" emerged and grasped the end of the silk, walking, and then running to make it swirls while the two men kept climbing.  
  
The voice, when it began, spoke rather than sang at first, and it was Quatre's.  
  
/Imagine there's no heaven,  
It's easy if you try,  
No hell below us,  
Above us only sky,  
Imagine all the people  
living for today.../  
  
At this point Trowa and Heero grasped the edge of the silk and let their bodies flow behind as the handlers below pulled faster and faster.  
  
The piano music continued, and then Heero climbed higher and took his place in the cloud swing, hanging upside down, hands stretched down toward Trowa as they continued to revolved high above the stage.  
  
/Imagine there's no countries,/ Quatre sang softly,  
/It isn't hard to do,  
Nothing to kill or die for,  
No religion too,  
Imagine all the people  
living life in peace.../  
  
Trowa climbed higher, then to the crowd's horror, let go. Before he could fall, however, Heero caught his upraised hands and held him, their bodies arcing out into space from the swing.  
  
"God, the guts!" Zechs hissed, shuddering beside Wufei.  
  
They caught their breath again as Heero let go with his knees and they both fell. Trowa let go of hi with one hand and caught the silk, wrapping one leg in it as an anchor as he took Heero's weight with one hand and they continued to spiral through space.  
  
/Imagine no possessions,  
I wonder if you can,  
No need for greed or hunger,  
A brotherhood of man,  
Imagine all the people  
Sharing all the world.../  
  
Trowa let go with his hand, holding one by one leg as he drew Heero up into a kiss, then released him. Heero fell a few yards and caught the silk below him. With a few complicated wraps, he secured both legs in it and hung upside down. Trowa had untangled himself already and slowly slipped down to wrap himself around Heero.  
  
/You may say I'm a dreamer,  
but I'm not the only one,  
I hope some day you'll join us,  
And the world will live as one./  
  
The music went on, and so did the impossible, gut-wrenching act as the pair climbed again, hung from the swing and slung each other through space.  
  
"Such trust!" Wufei murmured.  
  
The act ended with the pair being lowered to the stage in a final embrace. They reached the stage and were covered by the waves of falling silk. When the things scampered out and pulled it away, they were gone.  
  
This time there was nothing half hearted in the applause. The audience was on it's feet, clapping, cheering, shouting their acclaim. Wufei rose with them, but had to cling to Zechs as his knees threatened to give way under him. A sudden spasm in his chest cut off his breath for a moment and he quickly sat down again, searching in his pocket for the tiny vial he was never without.  
  
"Are you all right, Wufei?" Zechs asked anxiously, recognizing the symptoms at once.  
  
Wufei swallowed the tranquilizer and sat back, controlling his breathing and willing himself to relax as another twinge shot through his chest.  
  
Zechs was searching the crowd now, looking for the closest exit, but Wufei shook his head. "No, it's better now. I'm fine! It was just fear for them, that's all. Really, I'm all right."  
  
Zechs settled back, and kept a worried eye on him through the next two acts, a fire juggler and a pair of rather obscene contortionists.  
  
The medication did its work, though, and Wufei let himself succumb to the mild euphoria, resting his head against Zechs's shoulder and rubbing his lover's tense fingers. Bringing them to his lips, he kissed them, heedless of any watching eyes. "Really, love, I'm fine. Let's just enjoy the show, please?"  
  
Zechs finally relaxed, and both of them were comfortable again when Duo and Quatre's act began.  
  
The stage went silent again, but the lights did not dim. After a moment the sweet sounds of a violin drifted down from the shadows overhead, playing a bright simple tune. A shape resolved from the darkness, which turned out to be a large gilded birdcage. Inside, seated on a swing, was Quatre, painted gold now, and wearing a bird mask and arm guards festooned with fluffy yellow feathers. The violin was his song, and he played with joy.  
  
"A pretty little bird in a gilded cage," Zechs chuckled.  
  
The song went on for a few moments, then suddenly it was interrupted by the quick, complex notes of a flamenco guitar fanfare from the back of the stage. The 'bird' stopped its song and peered down between the bars, then pointed excitedly to the back of the house.  
  
A spot light followed his pointing finger and everyone looked back to see a dark figure lurking at the top of the stairs.  
  
Duo was almost indistinguishable under his painted cat face. In fact, he was painted all over, his lithe body transformed with tawny tiger stripes that glittered in the spotlight. But he was also wearing a short bolero vest and a Spanish brimmed hat with cutouts for a pair of large pointed ears. He tipped it back, gave the audience a wink and waved a clawed hand in the air. The flamenco music returned, a bright, complex tune, and Duo began to move with it, clapping his "paws" and swaying his hips as he danced a few steps down the stairs. His braid was hidden by the hat, but he had a long tawny tail that wagged and swung as he danced down a few more steps, then threw himself into the lap of a man sitting on the aisle and wiggled around, stroking the man's startled face and grinning. Then he leaped up, danced a few more steps, and wrapped himself around a woman, rubbing his cheek against hers. She recovered more quickly and pretended to scratch his ear. Duo allowed it for a moment, then arched his back and hissed, sprang onto the arm of her seat and launched himself over several startled people's heads to land on the arms of another man's chair and proceeded to go into a rather lewd dance, rolling his pelvis practically in the man's face. This went on for some time as he worked his way down through the crowd, and, to Wufei's horror, onto the arm of Zechs's seat. Draping himself over Zechs's lap, he gave Wufei a wink, then a push with his foot, much like a cat making himself at home while pushing out all others.  
  
"What a bad kitty you are," Zechs laughed, giving him a swat. Duo leaped up onto the chair arms again, snapped his tail at Zechs, and leaped to the aisle again, dancing down the last few steps to the stage and slinking up on it, attention now fully focused on the cage dangling overhead.  
  
The music ended and he and Quatre stared at each other a moment. Then Duo-yowled. That was the only word for it. It was a very catlike, realistic sound, and accompanied by a wave, beckoning the "bird" to come down to him.  
  
Quatre answered with a flip of his head, and a few dismissive notes on the violin. Then he went back to his little song and Duo's flamenco music started again. To Wufei's delight, the two were actually part of the same piece, and blended perfectly.  
  
Duo stalked around the stage, twitching his tail and yowling, clearly wanting to find a way up to the cage, since Quatre certainly wasn't coming down. After a few moments of frustration, he disappeared backstage and came back out with a single black chair. Setting it down he stood on it and reached for the cage, still far out of reach. Nonplussed, he disappeared and came back with a second chair and a third and stacked them, climbing up on top as if he expected that to be high enough. When it wasn't he sat down and sulked in a very feline fashion for a moment, then apparently had a thought, for he let out an even louder yowl, then stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.  
  
In answer, a dozen or so other "cats" appeared, each one carrying a chair. Duo grabbed one after another, throwing them together in what appeared to be a rickety, haphazard fashion, building a tower for himself to reach the cage. Quatre, caught up in his own music, played on, paying him no mind at all.  
  
There was a trick, of course. The chairs had holes and pegs and Duo was fitting these together as he worked, though he covered it well, and made a great show of tipping and wobbling the unwieldy looking stack as it grew.  
  
The stack soon towered above the stage and Duo stayed on top, catching chairs the others threw up to him. Reaching the cage at last, he climbed up the side of it, gave the startled "bird" a tip of his hat, the audience a wink, and pulled a large velvet cover down over the cage and himself. There were some wild notes, cat noises, and a sudden fall of bright yellow feathers. When the curtain fell way, however, Quatre was still there on his perch, quite alone, with a swollen looking belly and a long tail hanging from his beak, wearing Duo's hat.  
  
The crowd loved it, and the laughter went on long after the lights dimmed and the cage was drawn up out of sight again.  
  
A few more acts followed, then the grand finale, with the final release of the things out into the crowd. Instead of merely disappearing, they fanned out through the seating, jumping from seat to seat and molesting audience members as Duo had. And then they were gone.  
  
The standing ovation lasted for nearly five minutes and Wufei looked over to see the journalists scribbling madly in their notebooks.  
  
He and Zechs stood and clapped with the other until their palms were sore.  
  
"I think Trowa can afford to relax a little now!" Zechs exclaimed over the noise. "This is what you call a success!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out Jac's fabulous CdN fanart pic! http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/37136679/ 
> 
> Song is "Imagine" by John Lennon. Strawberry Fields was named in his memory after he was assassinated by a crazed "fan" in 1980.


	111. Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Circus della Notte took Manhattan by storm. Despite some snarky critiques, public opinion was unamimous and that's all Trowa and the others cared about. Night after night the seats were filled, and the money rolled in like water.  
  
Reporters hounded them daily for interviews and photos. Trowa fiercely maintained the anonymous cast listings, but it was obvious that Duo and Heero had joined, and the parts they played. The nature of their acts rekindled all the rumors about their sex lives and who was sleeping with whom. In the past, the four of them would have simply smiled and said nothing, letting the public think what they would. But Quatre's case came before the L-4 high court early in March and despite Quatre's continuing insistence that he didn't care what happened, so long as he was free and with Trowa, the others had other ideas. In the end all three were called to testify on Quatre's behalf, and while it might not have completely cleared Quatre's name, by L-4 standards, it was enough for the competency case to be dropped once and for all, and to force the financial claims to be settled quietly out of court. In spite of himself, Quatre walked away a very rich young man, and one completely free of any further corporate obligations. By the time they left for Berlin, everything was settled at last.  
  
+  
  
Heero enjoyed performing with Trowa, and loved watching Duo act out with the crowd every night. Their participation had several other unexpected side effects, as well.  
  
The rigorous workouts and performances were nearly equivalent to flying a Gundam. After several weeks in New York, Duo began to complain of bruising during sex.  
  
"Jeeze, Heero, I'm not made of steel, ya know?" Duo grumbled, showing him the dark imprint of fingers on the creamy skin of both hips one morning.  
  
Curious, they went to the hotel gym and tested Heero on the weight machines. They ran out of plates before they found his limits.  
  
"What's the matter, baby?" Duo asked, smoothing back Heero's sweaty hair. "You're strong again. What's wrong with that?"  
  
"I thought J's treatments had worn off, that I'd purged them out of my system," Heero said softly, staring down at his callused hands. "I thought-I was finally normal."  
  
"Oh Heero!" Duo chuckled softly and shook his head. "You were never normal, any more than the rest of us. You're my 01, always have been, always will be. Besides-" He stood up and pulled Heero to his feet. "Put your arms around me and hold on. Don't let me get away."  
  
Puzzled, Heero did as he asked, holding him firmly but carefully as Duo tried unsuccessfully to struggle free. Finally, panting, he collapsed against him and ground his pelvis against him, letting Heero feel his erection. "Strong is good, baby. Strong is hot!"  
  
"Really? I'm not a freak?"  
  
"You're my freaky lover, baby. Deal with it." Heero had loosened his grip enough for Duo to move more and he took full advantage, slow dancing against him, a sensuous smile playing on his lips. "Let's go downstairs and make some more bruises, huh?"  
  
"No bruises," Heero murmured, pulling him close again, "but I'll hold you down."  
  
They only made it as far as the elevator before they had hands down each other's jeans.  
  
+  
  
Zechs and Wufei kept track of their friends in the news, and called frequently to celebrate their success, and share details of their upcoming wedding. Zechs was determined to stick to the April date, and so it was going to be a small affair, at least by state wedding standards.  
  
Zechs was in the sunny library, going over the final menu for the reception banquet, when Wufei appeared in the doorway, clasping a folded letter in one hand and looking utterly stricken.  
  
Alarmed, Zechs hurried over to him and checked his pulse. "What is it, Wufei? Are you ill again?" Wufei hadn't had a "spell" since that night in New York, but it was an ever-present possibility.  
  
"No, I'm fine," Wufei quickly assured him. "It's just-I have some news, and-I'm afraid you're not going to-that is, I don't know what to do!"  
  
Zechs drew him down onto the small sofa by the fireplace and pulled him close. "Come now, tell me. It can't be so bad as all that."  
  
Wufei slowly unfolded the paper he held and Zechs caught sight of the letterhead. It was from the admissions office of Sanque University. Below it, the first line read, "Dear Mr. Chang, Thank you for your application to our comparative literature program. We regret to inform you . . ." This had been Wufei's first choice school, not only because of the proximity to home, but because it had the most outstanding undergraduate offerings in Chinese poetry outside of China. A degree from there would have assured him entrance into the finest graduate programs.  
  
"Oh Wufei, I'm so sorry! How could they say no? Your placement exam scores were outstanding."  
  
"It wasn't that." Wufei slumped against him, miserable. "It's my academic history."  
  
"Ah." Wufei's history was anything but normal. Although he'd been an outstanding scholar on L-5, excelling by all standards, his education had been irreparably interrupted when he was only fifteen. During his time with the Preventers he'd quietly enrolled in night school and completed a diploma program, but that was not an impressive credential for the likes of Sanque University.  
  
"There are other schools, love-" Zechs began, but Wufei clasped his hand and shook his head.  
  
"It's not that. They didn't give me a flat out no. If-if I would be willing to complete a year of prep school-they recommend the Solomon Academy-then they guarantee me a place in the following year's class."  
  
"But that's wonderful! It's only a few miles from here. Why the long face?"  
  
"Solomon is a residential school, Zechs, no exceptions. And they don't accept married students. I've already checked."  
  
"I see." Zechs sat back with a sigh, eyeing the stack of RSVP cards that had already come back. Wedding gifts had begun arriving last week. If they postponed the ceremony on such short notice eyebrows would be raised, and the tabloids would no doubt have a field day, but none of that mattered, compared to the shadows in his little love's eyes right now.  
  
"Wufei, this is your future, our future. You're meant to be a scholar, a professor, and a poet, too. If a few months of finishing school will put you into the best school for that, then what possible choice can there be?"  
  
"People will talk!"  
  
"Let them. Our friends won't care, and to hell with anyone else. Besides--" He paused, then shook his head slowly. "In a way, I'm glad. You'll be a year older. We'll have been together that much longer . . . I know you don't want to hear it, but sometimes I do still worry that I've rushed you."  
  
"You haven't! Stop worrying about that!"  
  
"Well, either way, this just gives us a longer engagement, that's all." He pulled Wufei up into his lap and kissed him. "Besides, if memory serves, Solomon has a strict dress policy, a student uniform. Nice snug frogged jacket, school tie, pants with a stripe down the leg?"  
  
Wufei laughed and squirmed against him. "You pervert!"  
  
"You know it. Oh yes, I can see it now. A few months of celibacy, then off to the train station to pick up my schoolboy lover for his vacation break. Mmmmm! I think this could be fun."  
  
"Celibacy!" Wufei groaned against Zechs's neck. "You don't know the meaning of the word. I do. It's no fun at all."  
  
"You'll need all your attention for your studies. Hardly possible if I was around, don't you think?" Rising with Wufei in his arms, he headed off toward the bedroom. "Come on, school boy, I think a little advance tutoring is in order."


	112. In the City of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Circus della Notte took Berlin by storm, and then rolled into Paris as the first spring blossoms appeared on the trees, riding a wave of rave reviews and sell out ticket sales. The City of Love was glorious in the first flush of spring, and welcomed Trowa's sensual show to her bosom. Despite the winter's delays, they were already well back in the black financially, and having a hell of a good time. Well, most of them, anyway.  
  
Heero was as happy as anyone, but that did not blind him from reading Duo as clearly as ever. As much as he was enjoying his own star status, something was bothering him, and Heero had a pretty good idea what it was, but wasn't sure how to approach the subject. It was Duo who finally brought it up.  
  
"So, circus life is really suiting you," Duo remarked as they cuddled, exhausted, in their hotel bed after the opening show. "How is it---" He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed an English language paper with their latest review. "Being a star of 'the finest aerial act ever seen'?"  
  
"It's like Trowa always said; like flying a Gundam, without the killing."  
  
"For you, maybe," Duo grumped. "I'm just the cat."  
  
"People love the cat!" Heero exclaimed, looking at him in surprise. "You're sexy and naughty and everyone in the crowd hopes you'll come rub on them. It's a wonderful act."  
  
"But not like flying. And-" Duo trailed off and settled his cheek more firmly against Heero's muscular chest.  
  
Heero wasn't going to let him get away with anything tonight, though. Massaging Duo's neck through his hair with one hand, he used the other to cup his chin. "Something's been on your mind for days now. Please, Duo, what is it? Can I help?"  
  
"It's stupid."  
  
"Nothing is stupid to me."  
  
"This is."  
  
Heero sat up and pulled Duo up with him, clearly worried now. "Tell me. Please?"  
  
Duo folded his arms and looked away, blushing. "Well, every night people get to see you work with Trowa. And, well-"  
  
Heero stroked his hair and sighed. "And I kiss Trowa."  
  
"Well, yeah. I told you it was stupid."  
  
"That's an act Duo. This is real." And Heero had ended the conversation by overpowering him, first with kisses, then with sucking, and finally with fucking him through the mattress. Twice.  
  
+  
  
Duo had brightened up after that and Heero hoped the matter was settled. As they walked along under the trees along the Rue de Rivoli in disguise one afternoon, however, events took another turn against him. As they passed a newsstand, Duo caught sight of the English language edition of The Berlin Weltbeobachter, and the headline "Exclusive Interview with Heero Yuy!  
  
By Hans Meir"  
  
"Hey, you never told me you actually talked to him!" Duo exclaimed, snatching up a copy and paying for it.  
  
"Didn't I? Sorry, you were working on the new masks that day and I guess it just slipped my mind. I did promise him an interview, after he gave us that tip, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, so let's see how it went!"  
  
They settled at a street side table in a café and ordered coffee. While they waited Duo spread the paper out and dug into the article.  
  
"I find Heero Yuy alone in his lavish hotel suite when I arrive for our interview, his compatriots and former Gundam pilots having declined my invitation to participate."  
  
Duo looked up. "Declined? You never asked."  
  
Heero's eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, but he shifted guiltily in his chair. "I knew how you felt about him. I didn't think you'd want to be bothered."  
  
"Hmm." Frowning, Duo went back to the article. "He greets me with a curt nod, then lounges on a white leather sofa, dressed in worn jeans, a tight black Circus della Notte tee shirt that shows to good effect his lean, muscular frame, and bare feet. The famous blue eyes are wary under that unruly dark hair and I suspect he has only just risen from bed. The door to the bedroom is ajar and I can just make out rumpled bedclothes and a well-used candle on a plate on the corner of the dresser. No sign of his lover, now fianc?, Duo Maxwell, or the others." Duo shook his head. "That nosy bastard. Figures he'd try to put a sex spin on everything."  
  
"It's a stupid interview," Heero said, attempting to pull the paper away. "Really, I was boring and he was cheap."  
  
Duo wrestled the paper back and grinned. "So let's see how bad it was! Ah, here's the meaty part. Heero Yuy speaks!"  
  
"Lower your voice!" Heero exclaimed softly, glancing around. Some of the other café patrons were beginning to stare. Even with Duo's famous hair hidden under a baseball cap and his jacket, his voice was just as recognizable. Suddenly, Heero really didn't want witnesses. "Really, don't waste your time."  
  
But Duo was determined. Keeping his voice low, he read on.  
  
"HM: You are looking well, Herr Yuy, much better than the last time we met.  
  
HY: I have no wish to speak of those days.  
  
HM: I only wished to say that I am glad for you. A great deal has happened in your life since your amazing return from the dead. It seems fortune is finally smiling on you.  
  
HY: The credit goes to my friends. They stood by me and gave me a home. That's something I never had before.  
  
HM: And now you are planning to marry Duo Maxwell.  
  
HY: Are we here to restate the obvious?"  
  
Heero cringed a little, seeing how Duo paused over that, grin fading.  
  
"HM: Care to share any details with our readers?  
  
HY: No.  
  
HM: Then perhaps you'd care to share how your other friends feel about this? The four of you are rumored to be very close.  
  
Yuy says nothing to this, and I swear I feel the temperature of the room drop several degrees.  
  
HM: You have no comment?  
  
HY: When you ask an intelligent question, I will answer it.  
  
HM: I see. Well, let's try this one. Do you regret the part you played in the war? What would you say to those around the world who still consider you a criminal?  
  
HY: I regret the lives I took. I make no excuses for that. But the fight was an honorable one. It's the past now, and cannot be changed.  
  
HM: Yet you have tried to make amends. You have given a considerable amount of money to help war orphans in Japan, I believe. How much money have you spent on that? My sources put the figure at more than fifty thousand dollars.  
  
HY: That's no one's business.  
  
HM: Is it true that some of that money came from a legacy left you by Treize Kushreneda.  
  
HY: We can end this interview right now."  
  
Duo chuckled at that. "You tell 'em, 'ro."  
  
"HM: Forgive me. I was only trying to highlight your generosity. Let's talk about the show, shall we? You've proven to have quite a talent for performing.  
  
HY: My combat training was a good preparation. Trowa and I devised an act that capitalized on skills I already possessed.  
  
HM: And those skills include rather intimate contact between the two of you. I counted no less than three kisses during last night's performance. Is this a public admission of the relationship between the two of you?  
  
HY: It is part of the act.  
  
HM: That's all?  
  
HY: That's all I'm going to say."  
  
+  
  
Duo slapped the newspaper down in front of Heero, oblivious to the curious stares they were getting from passers by.  
  
"'That's all I'm going to say'?" he hissed. It an outraged whisper, but Heero heard the hurt there, too. "You as much as admitted that you and Trowa have a thing going!"  
  
"Isn't that what we want, for the show?" Heero replied. It was the truth, but sounded pretty weak in the face of Duo's obvious pain. "Playing up the rumors puts 'asses in seat', right?"  
  
Duo slouched back in his chair and folded his arms. This storm been brewing for some time now; the interview was only a catalyst.  
  
+  
  
Duo was hurting. He knew that Heero was telling him the truth, but it still hurt, and now it was in print for the entire world to see.  
  
Heero laid his own dark glasses down beside his coffee cup and leaned forward earnestly. He looked worried, but determined. "I'm sorry I hurt you."  
  
Duo shrugged angrily, and Heero leaned across and kissed him, heedless of the stares it got them. "I'll tell Trowa to find someone else for the act first thing tomorrow."  
  
Duo sat back and stared at him in disbelief. "Just like that? You'd just walk away from it all, just 'cause I'm having a pissy moment?"  
  
"I know it's more than that. I appreciate how patient you've been, but things have changed. Quatre's strong enough for his act with Trowa now. They don't need us anymore."  
  
Duo wasn't so sure of that. Having four Gundam boys in the show was a huge draw. Now he was beginning to feel like a first class heel. "But what about flying? You love that."  
  
This time it was Heero who shrugged. "If you're ready to quit, I'm fine with that. We should stay on until they can replace us, though. That's only fair."  
  
"Uh. Yeah, of course." Totally deflated and more than a little guilty, Duo reached and took Heero's hands in his. Their matching engagement rings caught the light, the paired sapphires blue as Heero's eyes.  
  
"And," Heero went on, bringing Duo's hand to his lips. "I think it's time you and I got married. What do you say, little mermaid? Are you ready?"  
  
"Huh? Really? Yeah!" Duo replied, heart swelling. "You know I am, baby!"  
  
"Then it's time."  
  
"Wow." Suddenly Duo's heart was pounding. " So, how do we do it?"  
  
"I have a few ideas," Heero replied, but the look in his eyes told Duo this was a mission Heero had been working on for some time.


	113. Mission Mode (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero had been researching weddings ever since Duo accepted his proposal in Japan, and with all his usual thoroughness.  
  
It was a daunting prospect, this wedding planning. It appeared to take less advance preparations to blow up an entire military installation. Every aspect of the procedure, from attire to provisions, was fraught with endless permutations. Heero had been aware that there was more than one style of tuxedo, but until now had never needed to know that level of formality and time of day of the ceremony played into the choice. He was heartily grateful that a wedding gown was not a factor, as there was an even more confusing set of rules and choices in that department.  
  
He didn't care about gifts, and suspected that Duo wouldn't either. He couldn't image the two of them lingering over china and crystal patterns, or appliances. They certainly didn't need sterling silver pickle forks. It seemed ridiculous to invite people to a celebration and expect them to spend money on items you could far more easily acquire for yourself.  
  
Venue was a significant problem, too, for it was a crucial factor in the success of the event. Neither he nor Duo belonged to any religion, so a church wedding was not a strong option. That left him with no identifiable parameters. You could be married anywhere, according to his research: public halls, bars, mountaintops, skydiving, under water, the list was endless, and all of them presented what Heero considered significant and completely unnecessary logistical complications. Narrowing his search to "Gay Weddings" was no help. L-2 and several tropical Earthside locales were popular choices, but Heero didn't feel any particular affinity for those places.  
  
After hours of online research and after amassing hundreds of documents for his file, he had finally happened across a short article in a woman's magazine he'd found at a Berlin grocery store, entitled "Make it Personal. Make It Yours." The author advised prospective brides-here Heero had to do his usual translation to be comfortable-to work with their fiance, exploring their own tastes and interests, and to design a ceremony that expressed themselves, rather than adhering to tradition or outside expectation. Heero read the article three times, and felt that a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He also suspected that he had narrowly escaped making a huge mistake; handing Duo a preconceived plan rather than including him in the process.  
  
His instincts proved correct. Once the subject had been broached at that Paris cafe, Duo proved to be an enthusiastic participant, and immediately agreed with Heero's first proposal regarding location.  
  
"It's perfect!" he'd exclaimed, hugging Heero excitedly. "How did I luck out and snag such a romantic genius, huh?"  
  
After that things seemed to fall into place very easily.  
  
+  
  
They set the date for May 15, during the show's hiatus between Paris and the L-2 debut in June. Oddly enough, with this matter settled between them, Duo suddenly had second thoughts about leaving the show. In return, Heero and Trowa cut the kisses from their act.  
  
Heero and Duo decided to forego any sort of advance announcement of the wedding in order to keep the press out, and issued the invitations in person, and by phone, swearing all the guests to secrecy and only inviting those they could trust to keep their secret.  
  
"This is the second time I have to admit to being jealous of you, Yuy," Wufei told him with a sad smile, as they conversed by vidphone. "Zechs and I should have been married by now, if it weren't for the wretched school rules! I have to start in the summer term, July first."  
  
"Why didn't you just try another school?" Duo asked.  
  
Wufei looked surprised by what sounded to Heero like a perfectly logical suggestion. "Sanque University has the best program in Europe, and the Solomon Academy is the best preparatory school in Sanque, with the highest standards. It would be dishonorable to pursue anything less."  
  
Duo shook his head after they signed off. "I guess the old Wufei still lives, huh? I'm just glad we didn't have to go back to school to do what we want."  
  
"What do you want to do?" asked Heero. "You blow hot and cold on the circus work."  
  
"Performing," Duo amended, going serious and plucking at the end of his braid, a sure sign of inner conflict. "Part of me loves it, the audience, and working with Trowa and Kat all the time. But another part of me wants some kind of life that's just the two of us, you know?"  
  
"Yes," Heero replied. He knew exactly how Duo felt, because he felt the same, although he sensed he was more comfortable than Duo at the thought of leaving the others. The fact was, he had plenty of money, but no idea what he wanted to pursue, apart from helping his friends and loving Duo. Even after all these months, he was still unused to the idea that he could chart his own course, rather than follow someone else's plan.  
  
Perhaps that's why the circus had been such an easy fit. He had thrown himself wholeheartedly in with Trowa's vision and, as he'd remarked to Meir, had fallen back on his old skills very easily. He wasn't sure how else he could operate, really.  
  
+  
  
An answer had come in an unexpected form, near the end of the Paris run.  
  
In response to popular demand, Quatre had added a gift shop to the venue, selling tee shirts, posters, photos and some of Duo's masks, as many as he could manage to turn out between his other work. Most of them were far simpler than those worn in the show, but they commanded excellent prices. To help out, Heero had matted some of his pencil drawing and added them to the mix. They were portraits, mostly, and some drawings of the acts. To his surprise, these sold very well, even the small, quick sketches, and sold even when Quatre upped the prices on a par with the masks.  
  
"I told you before, you have talent," Quatre laughed, helping him matte up new ones one night. "If you were willing to part with some of the nudes you've done of us, you'd really make a killing."  
  
Heero had laughed at that, but one night, as he passed by the gift shop tent, he heard someone call his name. A large man with a gray ponytail stepped from the press and waved him over. It was Jim Arnaud, the painter from New Orleans who'd praised Heero's drawings.  
  
"Hello. What are you doing in Paris?" Heero asked, shaking hands with him.  
  
"I spend a few months here every spring. I have a studio on the left bank, as any painter should," Arnaud replied, smiling. "I'd heard you added some new acts and came to see them the other night. This time I came to see you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
In answer, Arnaud took him by the elbow and guided him into the gift shop tent, stopping where they could see people exclaiming over Heero's drawings, which were displayed on one wall.  
  
"Do you know why they're buying your work?" Arnaud asked.  
  
"Because they like the circus."  
  
"Wrong. Because you did them. Oh, they'd buy any crap associated with the show, I'll grant you that, but your work, and those masks by that boyfriend of yours? You could sell those on their own merits, and your names of course. You can't discount that in the art world. It's as much about the artist as the art, and you two have plenty of cache."  
  
Heero nodded slowly. He'd told Duo as much, many times, but never thought of his own work that way. Then again, hadn't Duo tried to say the same to him, and Quatre, too, only for Heero to brush their words aside, assuming the praise came more from love for him than any merit his work had.  
  
But this wasn't Duo or Quatre. Arnaud had no stake in praising him. In fact, he looked annoyed. "Don't you remember what I said to you before? This shit you're peddling is fine for this crowd, but it's baby stuff. You're squandering your talents on glorified sidewalk art!"  
  
"What business is it of yours?" Heero asked, stung by the criticism.  
  
"Ah, you don't like that?" Arnaud grinned, and poked Heero lightly in the chest. "Feels kinda lousy right here, doesn't it? You know what that feeling is, kid?"  
  
Stunned, Heero shook his head.  
  
"That's your soul, buddy, telling you I'm right. Let me ask you this. You've been in New York, Berlin and Paris. How many art museums have you visited?"  
  
The uneasy feeling was stronger now. "None. But we've been busy . . ."  
  
"Doing what? Your art? Or supporting your friends' art? Hey, don't get me wrong. If being a circus star is what you want, then you're damn good at it and that's fine. But if you're drawing enough along with it to have enough to sell? Then maybe you're not listening to what your soul's trying to tell you." He paused and pulled a business card from the pocket of his ragged jacket. "Here's my Paris address and phone. If you get a day free, let me know and I'll show you some of what you've been missing. And bring that good-looking squeeze of yours along, too. He might learn a thing or two. It would be a damn shame if you both spent your talents being shadow artists all your lives."  
  
Heero watched him go, not sure whether he should be flattered or insulted. As he walked past the display of his drawings, though, he discovered he felt a little embarrassed. Was that his soul talking again? And what the hell was a shadow artist?  
  
Later that night he did an Internet search for the term. There were many entries, but he suspected he'd found the right one in a quote from a pre colony book by someone called Cameron. It meant someone who stayed close to artists, but didn't pursue their own talents. He sat for a long time, rereading that entry, and exploring the uneasy excitement it stirred up in his heart.  
  
That night was a shared bed night, and as he lay there with the others, enjoying the closeness and security he felt with them, he screwed up his courage and told them his thoughts.  
  
"He's right, you know," Quatre said at once, pressing a hand to Heero's heart. "Those pictures you don't show anyone else, the ones of Duo, and mermaids and the darker stuff? You're really, really good, Heero. Think what you could do if you actually studied."  
  
"Like Wufei," Heero mused.  
  
"Yeah," Duo said thoughtfully. "And don't settle for just any second rate place, either. I guess that's what Fei meant."  
  
"The same goes for you," Quatre reminded Duo. "I think you should both go see this Arnaud fellow, see what he had to show you."  
  
"Me? What's wrong with what I do? I though you loved my masks!"  
  
"We do," Trowa assured him, propping his chin on one hand as he leaned across Quatre to join in the conversation. "And I won't lie to you. I'm selfishly scared to death you two will leave us, leave the circus, but I know it's selfish and that's why I'm telling you that up front." He grinned and ran a finger down Duo's bare shoulder. "I'm a selfish bastard, but I know what it means to go after a dream. If you two can find a way to do that, and still stay hooked up with us somehow, well, that's the best I hope for."  
  
Duo shot Heero a guilty look. They hadn't said anything yet to Tro or Kat about leaving the show, mostly because they couldn't make up their minds about it.  
  
"If you could give us the L-2 run, that would give us time to train up the understudies," Quatre said, reading them both like a book.  
  
"I'm not gonna run out on you guys!" Duo exclaimed. "Not after all you did for me. Heero, too. Damn it, I don't know what to do."  
  
"Yes you do," Quatre said, smiling as he kissed Duo on the nose. "You want to marry Heero. Let's focus on that for now, and work the rest out as we go along." He paused and gave Duo the killer puppy eyes. "Hey, you are still going to let me help with the wedding, right? You helped with ours."  
  
That broke the tension, and Duo rolled over across Quatre and Trowa, wrestling his way between them. "Like we could get married without you!"  
  
The rest of the conversation was lost in an impromptu wrestling bout between the four of them, which in turn devolved into snuggling and fooling around. Heero joined in, knowing that the others needed some reassurance tonight, with change looming so unclearly on the horizon.  
  
The following Monday, when the show was dark, Heero and Duo took Arnaud up on his invitation. They started at his studio, filled with huge canvasses with tilting, dancing visions of Paris and other European scenes. Duo loved the colors and was better able to talk painting than Heero was. Arnaud let them mess around with paints and brushes for a little while, then took them off to the Louvre.  
  
Heero and Duo were stunned. Neither of them had any background in art culture or history, and suddenly they felt like kids turned loose in a candy store. Arnaud led them from one shadowy room to another, explaining a little about periods and artists. Duo wandered off among the Greek sculptures. Heero discovered a whole gallery of sketches by people like Rembrandt, Rodin, Durier, and Michelangelo. He found he cared nothing for the Impressionists, but liked their style. Duo reappeared, eyes alight, and dragged Heero off to a display of native masks from around the world. He'd bought a sketchbook at the museum store and already filled half of if with quick sketches, inspiration for new works.  
  
Hours passed and the day was over before either of them had had their fill.  
  
"So, what did you think?" Arnaud asked as they sat in a cafe afterwards.  
  
Duo showed him his sketches. "I've got enough material here to keep me busy for months!"  
  
Heero was more subdued. "I think I have a lot to learn."  
  
Arnaud took a folded paper from his pocket and slid it across the table to him. "A list of good art schools, here, and in America. I thought you might be interested."  
  
"Thank you." Then, turning to Duo he grinned. "And mission accepted."  
  
"Hey, one at a time," Duo warned, but he looked excited, too.


	114. Subject TB

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_Transcript entry by: Dr. Thomas R. Batoosingh_  
  
_Outpatient Services_  
  
_Winner Memorial Veterans Hospital_  
  
_L-2 Colony_  
  
_04/28/199_  
  
_Private Notes re: Subject TB_  
  
_Contrary to all expectations, my own as well as those of his friends, TB has continued his sessions with me, recently requesting that we meet twice weekly, by vid phone. His husband knows, but he has chosen not to tell his other two friends, close as they are to him. It is perhaps fortunate that both DM and HY have discontinued therapy with me for the time being. My objectivity was becoming severely strained. I must admit to missing them both; another sign that it was time for me to give up their treatment. Objectivity seems to go out the window whenever I deal with them._  
  
_With T it is much easier. He has neither D's neediness and charm, nor H's straightforward manner and determination. T is often terse, defensive, and at times surly. Yet he never misses an appointment, and remains on line for the full duration of each session, when it would be very easy to hang up._  
  
_Of the three GB's I have treated, I continue to believe that he is by far the most severely damaged, even more so than DM. The years of sexual abuse alone would be sufficient to create the kind of emotional scars he carries. Add to that the inadvertent death of his first "family" at his own hands, and it's a wonder he's even alive, let alone functional._  
  
_The killing of his friends remains unresolved and requires continued work._  
  
_I had been prepared to label him a sexual compulsive, or sex addict, but it has become clear to me, through weeks of torturous (for him) admissions that he does not really fit the pattern. Assuming he has been honest with me, at no point has he been driven to engage in sexual acts by any inner, psychological compulsion. With the mercenaries, he was raped at least once (his first sexual experience), and then simply accepted it as his lot to be used by the adults around him. The fact that they gave him the right to decline, and offered payment of various sorts gives him some sense of choice, and one I would not take away from him. I have, instead tried to impress on him that they were in the wrong to treat him in that manner, and that it was not his fault in any way. He says little to all this so far, and I'm really not certain what he thinks, aside from maintaining that it was his own choice._  
  
_So what to make of him now? He is somewhat obsessive in his need for sexual contact. It seems to be the form of human interaction he is the most comfortable with, and comforted by. Yet it remains important to him to 1) feel in control of the situation and 2) have some positive feeling toward his partner(s). His tendency toward polyamory seems to be rooted in his early experiences with the first group of mercenaries who adopted him. He was well treated by them, loved, and cared for in an appropriate manner, but the examples of "family" presented were unconventional. Nevertheless, he imprinted on them and feels that is what he lost at their deaths. Severely stunted emotionally, he unconsciously harkens back to that time as he attempts to deal with his present life._  
  
_Conflicting with this model is his genuine love for his husband, Q. Their bond is incredibly strong, and, in this physician's opinion, a life saving emotional attachment for both of them, similar to the bond shared by HY and DM. The fifth member of their wartime team, CW, seems to have formed a similar bond with a fellow soldier, and a stranger one, in that they were enemies at one time. What a unique group they are._  
  
_As H and D prepare to marry and form what they have both described as a monogamous union, I have watched TB struggle harder than ever with his own nature. At times I fear that the conflict between his genuine love for them and his ingrained need to be sexual with those he cares for will tear him apart. At those rare moments when he is capable of directly examining this conflict, his self-esteem, fragile at the best of times, crumbles completely. I have found it necessary to include Q in recent sessions, for emotional support. Only when Q is present does T let his guard down with me enough to cry, and when he does, it is like a great storm breaking, and pitiful to witness. Equally astonishing is the fact that he is capable of putting such outbursts behind him in a matter of an hour, and perform the most dangerous of acts that same evening at his Circus, with the very people who are the source of his pain._  
  
_Today he confided that he will be alone with HY the week before the wedding, to help him prepare a reception, while Q is with DM. I have advised against putting himself in such a painful position, but he is strangely calm about it, and Q seems convinced that it is a reasonable course of action. Armed with what affirmations and advice I can give him, he seems bent on entering the emotional lion's den._  
  
_I have been invited to the wedding, and am breaking my own rule in accepting. If I am honest with myself, it is partly out of curiosity, partly affection for those boys, and in greater part, to be on hand should any emotional meltdowns occur. I find myself wondering more than once lately if I should be looking into another line of work?_


	115. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The Paris show closed with accolades, and opened to an adoring crowd on L-2 two weeks later.   
  
The performances were a little bittersweet for everyone, knowing that Heero and Duo would be leaving, at least for a while. Heero caught Quatre being weepy several times, and got a little choked up himself, holding him to comfort him. He'd never been quite sure how to define his feelings for Quatre, but he knew he was going to miss being able to touch him like this. Duo had his teary-eyed moments, too.   
  
"Damn, Heero," he'd sighed one night, cuddled in Heero's arms. "How can I want to stay and go so much at the same time, huh?"  
  
It was Trowa who seemed the most accepting. He was outwardly warmer than usual, and participated enthusiastically in the wedding plans. The only difference Heero could see was that when the four of them slept together, which they did most of the time on L-2, he never seemed to end up next to Heero in bed. Heero tried not to feel hurt; Trowa was as friendly as always otherwise, and their act had never gone better.  
  
+  
  
Somewhere along the way, Duo and Quatre had decided that it would be easier to divide things up, and that it would be "romantic" if that division of labor kept Duo and Heero apart for the week leading up the ceremony.   
  
"C'mon, 'ro!" Duo had pleaded when he balked. "You know we can't keep our hands off each other if we're sleeping together. This will make the actual wedding night more special. Please?"  
  
As if Heero could deny him anything.   
  
At the end of the L-2 run Duo and Quatre would go off to the house on the Cape, where Wufei would meet them and help them get ready for the beach wedding, while Heero and Trowa took up residence in a hotel in New Provincetown, to arrange the reception at Ma Rainey's Club.  
  
"Why do you get Wufei?" asked Heero.  
  
"I flipped a coin. You lost," Duo told him, with a kiss and a shrug.  
  
Heero had discarded a good many plans before it occurred to him to recreate their first date. Luckily, Quatre had gotten the house on the Cape as part of his settlement with his family. Duo had, in his own words, "gone all gooey" over the fact that Heero would think of such a thing.  
  
The informality of an outdoor wedding at the beach house had appealed to both of them, and Heero was quietly, deeply happy to return to the house. It was the first place that had ever felt like home, even though it wasn't theirs, and the memory had as much to do with Duo as it did with location. They'd taken their first real steps toward being an actual couple there, had their first real date, been able to relax and act like lovers instead of ex-soldiers. Heero treasured the sketches he'd done there, but in truth, all he had to do was close his eyes and he could summon up a host of beloved mental images: Duo coming down the stairs, breathtakingly beautiful in the new clothes Heero had bought for him; Duo at work over his masks, so calm and content; Duo stretched naked and tied up on the bed, washed with the colors of the sunset and sea; Duo, waiting for him on the beach, admitting that he'd missed Heero, the day he'd gone shopping, and the way he'd blushed when Heero gave him roses for the first time . . .  
  
A piece of Heero's soul had come to life there, or back to life, anyway. Whatever the case, it only seemed logical to return there as they began this new phase together.  
  
The week apart, though? That he was less keen on, but it clearly meant too much to Duo and Kat to say no.   
  
He was also a little uneasy at spending the week alone with Trowa.   
  
"I trust you, baby," Duo assured him the night they parted, the day after the last L-2 performance. "I trust Trowa, too. And---well, I think he needs this."  
  
Heero suspected he was right. The last performance at L-2 marked the end of his act with Trowa, and when it was over and they were bowing to the crowd, Heero had seen tears on Trowa's cheeks, trickling down from under his mask. Heero almost reached out to him right there in front of everyone; as well as he knew him now, it was still a shock to see Trowa cry. But he had disappeared into his dressing room before Heero could say anything, and afterwards he seemed fine. He wouldn't talk about it at all, and his smiles had been strained.   
  
"Is that why Wufei is joining you, rather than us?"  
  
"Yeah," Duo admitted. "You're still OK with it, right? Kat's been having a rough time with Tro again lately, and he really needs a break. You know how to handle Trowa better than anyone else."  
  
So Heero still wasn't sure it was a good idea for them to be alone for a week, but if it meant doing Quatre a favor, and helping both friends, then he would do it.   
  
+  
  
They took a private shuttle down to Massachusetts and set up their headquarters in a large hotel suite just down the street from the club. The wedding was being kept a secret from all but the close friends they'd invited to share in it. As far as the public knew, he and Trowa were arranging a private function for members of the Circus. It was a little maddening, knowing that Duo was just a few miles away, but Trowa and Quatre were coordinating all movements by cell phone, making certain they wouldn't run into each other by accident.  
  
He and Trowa had separate bedrooms at the suite. Trowa went to bed early on the first night and closed his door, silently letting Heero know that he was on his own, with no expectations.  
  
Heero accepted the gesture without comment and slept well, with a pillow in his arms in place of Duo. The same thing happened the following night. The next morning, however, Heero couldn't help noticing the dark circles under his friend's eyes. He looked a little bloodshot, too.   
  
"Are you all right?" he asked over breakfast.  
  
Trowa looked up from his eggs, his one visible eye revealing nothing more than mild surprise. "I'm fine, Heero. Hurry up and eat. We have to be at Loose Threads by nine for the fittings." There were a lot of last minute details to be seen to, but not enough to fill up a week and they were soon left with time on their hands. Trowa was good company, quiet as always, and easy going. Not wanting to draw undue attention around town, they kept to themselves during the day, playing cards and watching movies. Heero put on his wig and glasses and went out sketching. One Wednesday they drove down to Boston and took in several art museums. When Trowa had had his fill of hushed rooms and dusty paintings, he dragged Heero off to the New England Aquarium, which, much to Heero's surprise, they both really enjoyed. Heero especially liked watching the penguins, while Trowa was off lingering in front of the immense shark tank.  
  
They had a good time, ate supper in the restaurant overlooking the sea lion pools, and drove home in comfortable silence, listening to baseball on the radio. When they got back to the hotel, however, Trowa headed straight for his room. He paused on the way, blushed a shocking shade of red, pulled a crumpled New England Aquarium bag from the backpack he'd carried, and tossed it to Heero. Before Heero could do more than catch it, he disappeared with a mumbled good night.  
  
Baffled and a little concerned, Heero went to his own room and opened the bag. Inside was a small penguin plush toy, the funny-looking kind with the yellow feathers sticking out from the sides of its head. Heero didn't remember telling Trowa that those were his favorites.  
  
He sat on the edge of his bed for a long time, looking down at the unexpected gift and pondering the events of the past few weeks. He waited until things went still on Trowa's side of the wall, then turned off his light and went out into the darkened sitting room and settled in the armchair in a corner by the window to wait.   
  
Sure enough, within an hour he heard Trowa's door creak open, and saw a dark, lean shape move over to the couch. Not noticing Heero in the shadows, Trowa left the lights off, and turned on the TV with the volume very low. He was dressed for bed in sweats and a tee shirt, his hair mussed as if he'd been tossing and turning for a while. He flipped through channels for a long time, settled briefly on a soft-core porn channel, and then turned it off with a look of disgust. He then spent some time pacing around in the dark, arms wrapped tightly across his chest as if he were cold.   
  
"Can't sleep?" Heero asked at last.  
  
He hadn't intended to startle Trowa, but he did. Bereft of all his usual grace, Trowa jumped back and fell over an ottoman, coming within inches of falling through the glass-topped coffee table. As it was, he came down hard on his ass, wedged between the sofa and the table. "Jesus fuck, Heero!"  
  
"Sorry." He switched on the lamp beside him and rose to help him up.  
  
But Trowa scrambled backwards and clambered to his feet, keeping distance between them. His cheeks were flushed, as if Heero had caught him doing something embarrassing, and there was a tell tale hint of tears along his lower lashes. From the look on his face, and the way he kept darting glances at the door, Heero was glad Trowa wasn't dressed. He looked like he wanted to bolt from the suite.   
  
Heero took a step toward him. Trowa took a step back, keeping his distance.   
  
"Come here," Heero ordered, pointing to the space just in front of him.   
  
Trowa wavered, then made a feint for his bedroom. Heero leaped the couch easily and caught him before he could shut the door against him. He expected tears or a fight, but instead Trowa went rigid in his arms, eyes fixed on the floor.   
  
Heero carefully gentled his hold on him, but kept an arm around his waist in case of sudden moves. "Talk to me, 03."  
  
"I-- I can't, Heero. Just let me go to bed, OK?"  
  
"Not until you tell me what's bothering you."  
  
"It's not your problem."  
  
"I'll miss you, too, you know. We both will."  
  
Trowa sighed and rested a hand on Heero's shoulder. "Yeah. I know. You should go back to bed now. We've got things to do in the morning."  
  
"And leave you alone, not sleeping for another night? I don't think so."  
  
Trowa was taller than Heero. He only had to raise his chin a little to look Heero in the eye. His own were filled with sadness, and affection, too. He touched a hand to his heart. "You can't fix what's broken in here, Heero. No one else can, not even Kat. Only I can, and I'm trying. I really am. I've been talking to that damn shrink of yours. A lot. I think I understand myself better than I did, but it doesn't make me stop--wanting." He looked away again.  
  
"Wanting what, Trowa? Me?"  
  
Trowa gave him a sad, soft little smile. "Turns out you're a symptom, Yuy, not a cause."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Me, neither, querido, but I'm trying to. I really am. Dr. B even says I'm making progress but-" He rubbed absently at his breastbone. "It still hurts, right here."  
  
"That we're leaving."  
  
"Yeah." It was a husky whisper now. "Don't worry. I don't hold it against you, or Duo. I really, really don't. I just wish I could get rid of these feelings, you know? I love Kat. I'm happy with him! I didn't even really think of doing anything sexual with Duo, not until--"  
  
"Until I came back?"  
  
"Yeah, you got it. How fucked up is that?"  
  
"Maybe that's what it took to make a family in your mind. And maybe, if you hadn't met Quatre and I hadn't met Duo and I wasn't so fucked in the head during the war---"  
  
Trowa pressed a long finger to Heero's lips. "Don't, Heero. None of that matters. Things are what they are. And you know what the most fucked up thing is?"  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"My life is so good! I love my life! I love Quatre and all of you, even Wufei, sort of, and Zechs. And the Circus? I did that and it's such a success. I didn't expect all that, ever. But what my head knows and what my heart and gut feel---it just doesn't match up sometimes. Do you think I'd ever give up Quatre for anyone else, even you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"No, I wouldn't. I'd die first." Trowa actually smiled. "You know, I can say that, and I know it's true. He's my life, my love."  
  
"But you want a family."  
  
"Maybe, and according to Dr. B you don't have to fuck someone to be family. How 'bout that?"  
  
"I'm sorry about that night. It never should have happened."  
  
"Well, maybe so, but no one, not even Batoosingh, is ever going to make me regret it. In my fucked up world, it brought us closer. It's like when two kids cut their thumbs and mix the blood. Blood brothers. It's kind of like that. You don't have to keep doing it. It's forever, right?"  
  
"Yes." In its own crazy way, it made sense. "So if you've figured all this out, why aren't you sleeping at night?"  
  
"Figuring stuff out doesn't make it go away, or stop hurting. Not right away. And-" He gave Heero an embarrassed little look. "I get lonely, sleeping alone. Always have. I used to sleep next to the lion's cages, just to hear someone else breathing in the dark."  
  
Heero thought back to what Trowa had told him that morning after their "intervention", how the mercenaries who'd adopted him let him sleep with them, and kept him warm and safe at night. It didn't take a degree in psychotherapy to figure out why Trowa had later become a boy prostitute. Better that than being alone.   
  
He tightened his arm around Trowa's slim waist and guided him toward his bedroom. Trowa tensed again, literally digging in his heels. "Heero what the fuck?"  
  
"I want you to sleep. You need to sleep. You can't sleep alone, and it's just me here. Come on."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Trowa, I understand."  
  
"No, you don't. Duo made me promise that I wouldn't---that we wouldn't---"  
  
"We're not going to have sex, Trowa. We're going to sleep. Duo wouldn't begrudge you that, now would he? Just pretend I'm one of your lions."  
  
Trowa resisted a moment longer, but Heero gave him a firm tug that sent him stumbling forward. For a moment he was sure Trowa would grab the doorframe and struggle, but he didn't. Moving like one defeated, he slid under the covers on the far side of the bed and lay stiffly there, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
With an inward sigh, Heero joined him, then reached over and dragged him bodily across the mattress, and wrapped his arms around him, holding on firmly until Trowa relaxed enough to rest his head on Heero's chest. Heero was long past regretting the return of his unusual strength. Holding Trowa carefully with one arm, he stroked his hair back and kissed his forehead. "I love you, Trowa, I always will, and did before we ever had sex. You saved my life. You cared for me when I didn't care about myself at all. Without you, the rest of my life wouldn't have happened. I'd have died on that battlefield. You'll always be my blood brother, whether we're together or not. Duo, too."  
  
"Thanks." With that one word, all the tension flowed out of Trowa's lanky frame and he melted against Heero's side.  
  
Heero stroked his back gently, and after a moment Trowa slid an arm around his waist.   
  
"I really enjoyed today," he murmured, settling his head more comfortably under Heero's chin.   
  
"I really like my penguin. Thank you."  
  
"So you'll remember," Trowa whispered. And then he was fast asleep.


	116. Pampering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo climbed out of the rental car and sucked in a lungful of cool sea air, then threw out his arms and yelled, "Goddamn, I love this place!"  
  
It was warm for early May in this part of the world, and the weather reports looked good for an outdoor ceremony. That was something he and Heero, both raised on climate controlled colonies, had forgotten to work into their plans. On Quatre's advice, they were renting a large pavilion, just in case, but Duo fully intended to make his vows to Heero with his feet in the Atlantic, just as they'd planned, come rain or shine.  
  
Turning, he grabbed Quatre as he was about to open the trunk for their bags and lifted him in a rib-crushing hug. "Thank you, Kat. Thank you thank you thank you!"  
  
Quatre hugged him back. "It's a beautiful place to get married. I'm glad it's so special to both of you."  
  
Duo grabbed his suitcase and followed Quatre up onto the porch. He and Heero hadn't lived here very long, but they'd certainly made a lot of memories while they did.   
  
+  
  
They spent the first day pulling dust covers off furniture and cleaning away the winter's dust, grime, and spiders and making springtime repairs.  
  
"Maybe we should have eloped," Duo grumbled, as he and Quatre wrestled with a broken water heater and a leaky gas line in the kitchen.  
  
The day was pleasantly warm and breezy, and when the sun set it was cool enough for a cozy fire. Duo had intended to sleep alone, and made up the bed in the upstairs side bedroom, while Quatre took the bedroom downstairs. After an hour or so of tossing and turning and missing Heero and the others, however, he was really glad when Quatre showed up at his door in his rumpled shorts and tee shirt. It looked like he was hiding something behind his back.  
  
"Did you bring me a late night snack?" Duo asked hopefully, scooting over so Kat could climb in beside him.   
  
"Not exactly." Quatre shook out the contents of the small paper bag he'd been holding. A good-sized baggie of pot, a packet of papers and a lighter spilled out across the comforter.  
  
"You bad thing!" Duo laughed, and helped roll a couple of blunts.   
  
"I just talked to Tro. He and Heero are all settled in at the hotel. I feel a little guilty. He's sleeping alone."  
  
"He'll survive," Duo chuckled.   
  
They smoked for a while, knocking their ashes into a seashell balanced between them. When they were both nicely buzzed, Quatre cuddled up next to Duo and wrapped his arms around him, head nestled under Duo's chin. "Ahhhhhh! This feels good."  
  
"Sure does," Duo agreed, idly stroking Kat's blond and blue hair. He'd grown it out longer again, and put in more of the blue streaks Heero liked so well.   
  
Duo wound some of the blue around his finger, admiring it. "So, blue again. You got a thing for Heero?"  
  
"I got a thing for both of you," Quatre giggled, hugging him. "Love the hell out of you guys!"  
  
Duo kissed him, lost in the good buzz and the warm comfort of his best friend. "So, you sorry about that night?"  
  
"What, when you fucked me, you mean?"  
  
"Yeah. Do you wish we hadn't, or that Heero had been the one . . ."  
  
Quatre sat up and looked at him, some of his dazed good humor giving way to concern. "I don't regret anything, Duo. With my empathy, it was like we all did each other, that everyone did me. I told you that, remember? And it was beautiful! But for your sake, I'm glad Heero didn't actually do me. You're pretty jealous."  
  
"I am not!"  
  
"Are too!" Kat flopped back down beside him and cuddled in again. "It's OK, I think it's nice. Heero is, too. You're made for each other."  
  
Duo mulled that over for a while then sighed and lit up another joint. "I guess you're right. Sorry."  
  
"Don't apologize! It's beautiful and cute, too. I wish---"  
  
It was Duo's turn to look at him. "That Tro was more like me?"  
  
Quatre shrugged. "Sometimes. He's been seeing Dr. B."  
  
"Still? Wow, I never thought he'd stick with that."  
  
"Neither did I, but he has, and it's helping a lot. That's the only reason I didn't worry about him and Heero going off alone like that."  
  
"And it gives you a break," Duo murmured, hugging him back into place.  
  
"No! I don't-"  
  
"It's OK, Kat. You've earned it, with all the crap you've gone through with him, and with me, for that matter. Y'know, it's kinda nice not being the 'crazy one' anymore. Oh, not that I'm saying Tro is crazy or anything---"  
  
"It's all right, Duo. He's got 'deep rooted emotional and psychic scarring.' That's Dr. B's diagnosis, anyway. I'm just glad he's dealing with it. But yeah, it's is sort of peaceful right now, being here like this."  
  
+  
  
Duo spent a good part of the next morning on the phone, squaring up final details with the JP who was going to officiate, the florist, and the bakery making the cake. The special decoration Trowa had fashioned for the cake hadn't arrived yet.  
  
After lunch he and Kat began beachcombing for the shells he needed for various decorations. Every guest was going to get a simple necklace made from a local shell on a chain.  
  
+  
  
One Wednesday morning they met Wufei at the Boston International shuttle port. They'd dressed down a bit, just jeans and jackets, sunglasses and hats. Quatre had foregone makeup since he got to Massachusetts, but still had most of his piercings in, looking tough rather than sexy. Even so, they attracted more attention that they wanted.   
  
"Bastards," Duo muttered, keeping his head down as a few tourists caught sight of them and raised pointing fingers and cameras.  
  
They did their best to ignore the unwanted attention as they waited outside the customs area for Wufei to appear. When he did, however, they couldn't help staring as much as any tourist. "Holy shit!" Duo whispered as Wufei emerged with a crowd of other travelers.  
  
"Yeah!" Quatre agreed.   
  
They'd talked to him often by vidphone, and caught him and Zechs on the news now and then, stalked by the European paparazzi, and had noted how much better he looked these days. But here in person, frowning slightly as he maneuvered his duffle through the crowd, he was just plain stunning.   
  
He wore jeans more these days, like the rest of the, but his were classy, expensive ones tailored and faded to show off his slender build to perfect effect without looking trashy. Today they were topped with a crisp white open collar shirt and a long tweed and leather jacket. He was wearing the jade necklace Zechs had given him again, too. Trendy Italian boots completed the outfit, the stacked heels adding a couple of inches to his legs and giving the impression of height, though he'd never be tall. His long, shining black hair was pulled back today, but less severely than in the old days, with a few shorter strands loose around his face. A small red jade dragon dangled from his right earlobe, swinging against his neck as he looked around for them.   
  
"Holy shit again. 05's wearing an earring! And makeup?" Duo whispered as Wufei caught sight of them and started over in their direction. He looked as dour as always, and he was clearly on the lookout for photographers.  
  
"No makeup," Quatre, the expert on such things, whispered back. "He's just healthy and happy again. And getting laid on a regular basis."   
  
"You can feel that from here?"  
  
"It's written all over him. And I believe that's a large hickey peeking out from under his collar.  
  
"A going away present from Big Blondie," Duo laughed, then strode over to hug Wufei and plant a kiss on his cheek. "Wuffie! Damn, you look good enough to eat!"  
  
"Maxwell, really!" Wufei muttered, coloring darkly as he hastily returned the hug and pushed Duo away. There were a few photographers around, and they were already circling. "Hello, Quatre. Has he driven you to distraction yet?"  
  
"No, we've been having fun, and so will you," Quatre said, grinning even as he grabbed Wufei's bag with one hand and flipped off the paparazzi with the other. A few people laughed, and others clapped as the trio made a hasty escape to the parking garage.   
  
They went for lunch in an expensive little out-of-the-way seafood place on the waterfront that Quatre liked and caught up over oysters on the half shell and crab salads.  
  
"Damn, Wuffie, you look great!" Duo couldn't help exclaiming, watching Wufei delicately slurp down his seventh oyster. "And I bet you need those, these days."  
  
Wufei raised an eyebrow. "Oysters?"  
  
"They're an aphrodisiac," Quatre explained, grinning.  
  
"Ah." That elegant eyebrow arched a little more and hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he squeezed a lemon wedge over another and tipped it into his mouth. "I assure you, I don't need anything of that nature. Not at all. I just like them."  
  
"You are an aphrodisiac," Duo chuckled under his breath. Even Wufei's hands were beautiful.  
  
"Thank you, Duo. You're looking quite radiant yourself. You both are. How are you doing, being away from your lovers for a whole week?"  
  
"He'll thank me for it," Quatre said.   
  
"I better," Duo groused. "So, you all ready for school, Wu?"  
  
"Yes. I've completed all the placement exams, and have my class assignments."  
  
"Well, my hat's off to you," Duo said around a mouthful of crab. "School? Homework? Deadlines? You can have it. Heero's going to art school, though. Did I tell you?"  
  
"Quatre mentioned it last time we talked. What about you, though?"  
  
"What about me?"  
  
"Well, I thought, with your talent, that you might consider it, as well?"  
  
Duo shrugged. "You said it. I got the talent already. What do I need school for?" He pushed a lump of crabmeat around the edge of his plate. "Besides, I can't get in like you guys."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"I never finished high school."  
  
"Oh, I see." Wufei set his fork aside and eyed Duo thoughtfully. "And you're too proud to do it now."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Well? Heero and I went to night school while we were in Preventers. I'm submitting to this prep school necessity. Quatre, I'm assuming you've done something to complete your secondary education?"  
  
"I had private tutors."  
  
"See? So why not you, Duo? You're certainly as smart as the rest of us."  
  
Duo shifted uneasily in his chair. "Well, y'know, there was that whole being batshit crazy for a while, and being dirt poor. Plus, can you see me in a classroom, sitting at a desk like a good little boy? Hell, I barely made it through undercover assignments. No, I've learned plenty on my own. It's better for me that way. Anyway, have you seen what my masks sell for? It's ridiculous! And I've got my first gallery show in New Orleans in August."  
  
"Congratulations! I'm glad for you." This time Wufei's smile was open and genuine.   
  
"So, when'd you get the earring?"  
  
Wufei touched the little dragon self-consciously and the light caught the gold ruby dragon ring on that hand. "Oh, that. Just something Zechs likes."  
  
"It's very sexy," Quatre told him. "Sexy and understated."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Duo grinned at his friends. "We've all come a long way from being terrorists, haven't we?"  
  
"Indeed we have," Wufei agreed.

+  
  
Wufei let the subject of school drop, sensing even without Quatre's warning look that this was a sore topic. Duo was certainly intelligent, but he lacked anything like a normal schooling background, which Wufei and Quatre had been lucky enough to have. Heero had gone along with the whole night school thing at Wufei's insistence, and perhaps out of boredom. Both of them had passed easily. He suspected that Duo and Trowa were both capable of doing the same, but Duo had a point. They were already accomplishing more than many people with college degrees did. Still, he hoped it didn't become an issue, with Heero going back to school.   
  
After lunch they drove what seemed to him an endless distance to New Provincetown, out at the very tip of Cape Cod. The coast was quite lovely, and the air was very bracing, in a different way than the Sanque coastline. The smells seemed more intense and sweeter here.   
  
He was glad to be back with his friends, even if it did mean losing a few precious nights with Zechs. He'd missed too many opportunities with his friends over the years, and really let Quatre and Trowa down. He wasn't about to make that mistake again, and had Zechs's blessing for the trip. He'd sealed his approval by giving him an embarrassing love bite, and despite his high collar, he'd caught Quatre and Duo smirking at it. The best part was, he found he didn't really mind. Let them look. They'd seen far worse in New York, and Wufei was well beyond embarrassment now. He was proud to be the lover of Zechs Merquise, or Milliardo Peacecraft, as the news insisted on calling him, and in time he would be his husband. He was proud of that.  
  
He was not completely debauched, however, and looked askance at some of the outfits displayed at the store they went to, a place called Loose Threads. It was clearly a place that catered to gay men, and many of the outfits were scanty, if not downright scandalous, and he began to worry what Duo's idea of "wedding attire" might be. There was not a proper tuxedo in sight.  
  
Several pretty, overly effusive young salesmen greeted them, and were introduced to him as Nicky, Sam, and the owner, Sal.   
  
"This is a great day for us," Sal told Wufei, taking his arm in a very familiar manner and leading him to a large photo display at the back of the shop. It was covered with pictures of handsome men in outfits he suspected came from this shop. Duo, Heero, Trowa and Quatre took up quite a bit of space. "See, we have all the Gundam Boys here, except for you!" Sal went on.   
  
"Yep, you've finally collected the whole set," Duo laughed, apparently at ease here.   
  
"Don't worry," Quatre assured him. "You're going to like what Duo picked out."  
  
"So long as it's not a bridesmaid's gown," Wufei muttered. "Or a leather skirt."  
  
"Naw, it takes a special sort of man to carry that off," Duo replied, striking a pose as he pointed out a photo of him in his leather kilt. "And all the fashion rags agreed, no one did it like yours truly."  
  
To Wufei's considerable relief, the outfit ordered for him was an elegant cream silk suit, cut very loose and casual, with a sky blue silk tee. Quatre and Trowa were wearing similar outfits, with different colored shirts.  
  
Duo's wedding ensemble was quite different. He was going to wear loose, gauzy linen trousers, rolled above the ankles, and a long, collarless shirt of the same fabric, open over a bare chest.   
  
"Very nice. But that's it?" Wufei asked, surprised.   
  
"Wait 'til you see how he accessorizes!" Sal told him. "He's going to be so beautiful!"  
  
"Nobody gets to see that until the big day," Duo said, smiling a secret smile that made him look more lovely than usual.   
  
Wufei couldn't help giving Duo a small, quick hug, seeing him like that. In all the years Wufei had known him, he'd seen Duo go through a lot of stages, most of them not very happy ones. In the months since Heero had come back to him, Duo had blossomed. Happy, healthy and in love, he was, in Wufei's opinion, the best looking of the five of them. A far cry from the filthy, violent, foul-mouthed waif who'd shared obscene poetry with him in that OZ prison cell.  
  
They ran a few more errands, and then drove to the beach house Wufei had heard so much about. It was a very nice place, the sort of place he'd like to bring Zechs sometime, he thought, remote and comfortable. HE and Zechs were both a bit out of place in the mansion, but with Wufei's school plans, plans to find or build a new, more manageable place were on hold.   
  
A lot of things were on hold, thanks to him, and he couldn't help feeling a little jealous of Duo and Heero.   
  
"Hey, you OK?" Duo asked as they climbed the stairs to the bedrooms.   
  
"Of course," Wufei told him, shaking off the unworthy thought. He had made his decision and knew it was the right path for him. Zechs supported him in it. There was no reason for second thoughts, and envy was a most unworthy emotion. "Where should I put my bag?"  
  
"Well, about that," Duo drawled, exchanging a nervous grin with Quatre. "You can have any room you like, but Kat and I have been bunking in together, like always, and we were kinda hoping that you'd want to, too. But if you aren't comfortable with that. . ."  
  
"No, that will be fine," Wufei replied without hesitation, and grinned at their look of mingled surprise and relief.   
  
"Wow, we really have worn you down, haven't we?" Duo grinned, showing him to a side bedroom with a wide bed and pleasant, relaxed decor. Wufei decided this was one of the nicest, most welcoming houses he'd ever been in.  
  
"I suppose you have."  
  
He changed out of his travel clothes, putting on a pair of looser, worn jeans, sneakers and the Foo Dogs shirt Duo and Heero had bought for him during his own breakdown. He'd worn it for Duo and was glad to see him recognize it.  
  
They spent the rest of the afternoon stringing seashells on chains, then had beer and steaks on the beach and watched the stars come out. He wasn't terribly surprised when Quatre pulled out some joints.  
  
Later, nicely full, nicely buzzed, and very glad with his friends for another special occasion, Wufei changed into some sleep pants and a tee while the others were off getting ready for bed, then pulled out his computer and made a vidphone call to Zechs.  
  
"Ah, there you are," Zechs purred, and Wufei's heart skipped a beat. Zechs looked tousled and drowsy and very, very sexy. It was early morning in Sanque and Zechs was still in bed, and most probably naked. Zechs's smile widened as he reached out and moved his own computer. The view shifted, giving Wufei a full body shot of his indeed very naked body and stiff, weeping erection.   
  
Wufei shot a quick look at the open doorway, listening for the others. "God, I miss you already!"  
  
"That's very good to hear. This place is a mausoleum without you."  
  
"My poor, poor, lonely emperor," Wufei sighed, stroking the image on the screen with one finger.   
  
"Wufei, are you stoned?"   
  
"Yes," Wufei sighed again. "I told you they are very bad influences."  
  
"And I've been very glad to reap the benefits," Zechs chuckled, propping his head on one hand. "Are you going to sleep with them?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. At least one of us won't be lonely."  
  
"I'm sorry. Do you want me to come home?"  
  
"Of course not. You know I'm only teasing. Just be a good boy and remember our agreement."  
  
Wufei nodded solemnly. "No touching myself. And you won't either."  
  
Zechs held up his free hand. "Not touching. Though I can't be held accountable for what I do to you in my dreams."  
  
"Oh yes, dreams. I hope I don't embarrass myself with them."  
  
"Just think pure thoughts before you go to sleep. I'm sure you can manage." Zechs's voice dropped to a husky purr. "Just think of the reward you'll get when I arrive."  
  
"So much for pure thoughts!" Wufei shivered happily, then yawned.  
  
"Get some sleep, little love, and have fun with your friends. I love you."  
  
"I love you," Wufei whispered back, sad to break the connection, but he could hear Duo on his way back from the bathroom, laughing about something with Quatre.   
  
He had the vidphone off before they came in, but Duo took one look at him and burst out laughing. They were both dressed for bed, Duo in a pair of loose shorts, the necklace he always wore, and nothing else. His chest was smooth and lightly tanned now, his nipples tight little points. Quatre was in cut off sweats and a loose tee shirt that probably belonged to Trowa.   
  
Duo had a fresh joint in the corner of his mouth and was holding a steaming basin of water that smelled like rosewater, with towels over his arms. Quatre's hands were full with a light blue leather case, more towels, several bottles, and a large zippered plastic pouch with pink and white kittens printed all over it.  
  
Duo gave Wufei a knowing look. "Uh oh. Somebody's already homesick."  
  
"And blushing," Quatre added. "How's Zechs managing without you?"  
  
"He's fine," Wufei said, not bothering to deny the call. "What's all that for?"  
  
Duo put the basin down beside the bed and Quatre dumped his collection beside Wufei.   
  
Duo took another drag on the joint, then put it between Wufei's lips. "Here. You're falling behind, buddy. It's pampering time."  
  
Wufei took a drag and passed it to Quatre. "What's he babbling about?"  
  
"Pampering time!" Quatre repeated brightly. Unzipping the kitten pouch, he dumped a cascade of colorful little bottles into Wufei's lap. Wufei picked one up and his eyebrows shot up. "Nail polish?"  
  
"Toenail polish," Duo corrected. "Pick your color, Wu Man."  
  
"I don't have a color. I don't wear nail polish. Anywhere."  
  
Duo gave him a wicked grin. "Oh, you do now. Trust me, sexy Zechsy is gonna love it. Heero does on me. C'mon! Kat gives the world's best pedicures, with a foot massage and everything."  
  
"It's no big deal, really," Quatre urged, giving him that big-eyed look that made him look very young and adorable, even with all the face metal. "If you hate it, I'll take it off, or change the color. We'll need to do it fresh for the wedding anyway. This is just for fun."  
  
"Fun, eh?" Wufei grumbled, but as usual, found himself already wavering. What was it about the two of them that had such a weird effect on him? He retrieved the joint, took a deep drag, held it, and then wheezed, "Oh, all right. If it will stop your nagging."  
  
"Ha! Told you, Duo. Pay up," Quatre crowed.  
  
Duo gave Wufei an accusing look as he handed Quatre a five-dollar bill. "Man, I figured you'd at least put up a fight or something."  
  
"Shouldn't have gotten me high first."  
  
He was pretty high, and helped them smoke another joint as he watched, bemused, as Quatre made him soak his feet in the warm rosewater, then went to work with a succession of defoliants and moisturizers, trimmed his nails, then gave him the promised foot massage that was dangerously close to foreplay. Wufei ended up flat on his back, holding pillows over his burning face, and his crotch, while Quatre kneaded his feet and ankles with devilishly clever fingers.   
  
"Told ya he was good!" Duo laughed.  
  
"Oh my god!" Wufei gasped into the pillow. "Will you teach me to do that?"  
  
"Of course." Quatre applied a last bit of cream to his heels, and then patted him on the knee. "Duo's turn. You help. Quatre removed the chipped dark red polish from Duo's nails while Wufei was sent off for fresh water. Duo's feet were well cared for, presumably from living with Quatre, and very attractive. Once they were clean and dry, it was not at all unpleasant to handle them. Quatre did Duo's left, using it as an example, while Wufei did the right. Quatre used very expensive creams and it felt nice, working them into Duo's smooth, lightly tanned skin. His toes were long, and ticklish, Wufei soon discovered.  
  
Duo sprawled happily on the bed while they worked, moaning unabashedly and not seeming the least embarrassed about the erection tenting the front of his shorts. When they were done he and Quatre changed places and they gave his small, delicate looking feet the same treatment. He was even more ticklish and squirmed and giggled until they were done.   
  
"And now for the polish," Quatre gasped, wiping his eyes.   
  
"I have absolutely no idea how to choose," Wufei told him, at a loss. Quatre's collection included just about every conceivable color, some pearly, others metallic.   
  
"I'll choose for you," Duo offered. Fishing around in the pile, he held up a bottle of rich, dark blue lacquer, with a metallic sheen. "It's dark and mysterious and exotic, like you."  
  
Wufei stared at him a moment, stunned by such an open appraisal. "You think I'm-exotic?"  
  
"Are you kidding? Hell, yeah!"  
  
"You are, you know," Quatre agreed. "Surely Zechs tells you that?"  
  
"Well---" Wufei felt himself blushing again. "Yes, but we're-"  
  
"Say it!" Duo said, grinning.  
  
"Lovers," Wufei finished, refusing to give him the satisfaction of embarrassment.   
  
"Well, you are. Exotic. And damn hot, too. So, whaddya say, Wuffie? 'Deep Space Midnight'?"  
  
"Oh, go ahead." Wufei surrendered and stuck his feet out. "I should have realized things would turn out like this."  
  
"Damn straight!"  
  
Quatre went to work, laying down a coat of clear polish, then a coat of the dark blue lacquer, blowing gently on his toes to dry it. "I'll do another coat when this is dry. What do you think Duo?"  
  
"Nice!" Duo approved, and then held up a bottle of pearly silver. "I'll take 'Angelfish'."  
  
"Mermaid color, huh?" Quatre chuckled.  
  
"Kat!" Duo hissed, turning an amazing shade of red.  
  
"Mermaids?" asked Wufei.   
  
"Uh, yeah," Duo mumbled.   
  
Wufei had never seen him like this. "After all the mortifying things you've put me through, including climbing on me when I was naked---"  
  
"OK, OK! It's just something Heero came up with, a long time ago."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Aaaaaand--- he thinks I look like a mermaid."  
  
It was Wufei's turn to grin. "A mermaid? Not a merman?"  
  
"Yeah, he was pretty insistent about it, too. Go figure."  
  
"Ah, I see. So all the seashell jewelry you wear---?"  
  
"Yeah, that's why." He touched the simple pendant at his throat. "This was the first he gave me. It's--- well, it's special."  
  
Wufei touched the jade lotus at his own throat. "I know what you mean."  
  
Quatre did Duo's toes, brushing on the silvery polish while Wufei smoked and thought of mermaids. Picturing Duo with his hair loose and scaly tail and seashell bra made him smile.  
  
When their polish was done and Quatre judged it dry enough, Duo painted Quatre's a wild fuchsia pink, which apparently Trowa liked.   
  
As he finished Wufei caught sight of the three of them, reflected in the large dresser mirror across the room, sprawled together on the wide bed. They all looked quite exotic, he thought.   
  
As they settled down for the night, Duo and Quatre put Wufei in the middle and treated him like a teddy bear. Far from minding, he found it comforting, and slept very well, with only the gentlest of dreams.


	117. Happy the Grooms the Sun Shines On (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Zechs flew his private shuttle to Boston the day before the wedding, accompanied by three security guards. Wufei had urged him to bring more, but the threatening mail had slowed to a trickle and Zechs didn't want to impose on the happy occasion with any more strangers than absolutely necessary.   
  
His men went out first, ascertaining the gate area was secure, and then he joined them. Heero and Trowa met him inside the terminal. He shook hands and looked around in surprise. "Where is Wufei?"  
  
"At the house with the others," Heero told him. "You're staying at the hotel with us tonight. It's the same one where your room is reserved for after the reception. Tro and Quatre will be staying there, too."  
  
"In a different suite," Trowa assured him with a small grin.  
  
Zechs arched an eyebrow in surprise, and covered his disappointment as they made their way out to the parking garage with light conversation. But three nights without Wufei in his bed were quite enough!  
  
"Sorry," said Trowa, sussing him out. "Duo says if he's not getting any, nobody's getting any."   
  
"I see. Well, fair enough." His men, well trained and discrete, remained impassive behind their dark glasses, but he thought he caught a fleeting smirk from Captain Tirmani.  
  
He rode with Heero and Trowa in their rented SUV. His men followed in a sedan. In New Providence they stopped first at a boutique called Loose Threads to pick up Zech's wedding attire. The Italian made suit of crisp cream-colored linen was beautiful, and needed no alterations. He owned a number of suits from this designer; perhaps they'd used his measurements they had on file.  
  
The shop boys fawned over all of them, and seemed more than a little flustered to meet him. Had he been a single man, he could have had his pick of any of them. That pleased him, though he wasn't really tempted, horny as he was. That pleased him, too. Now and then he asked himself if fidelity to Wufei was a sacrifice. Time and again, the answer was no. All those easy fucks had been an attempt to fill a void. Hundreds of such liaisons had never added up to what one dark-eyed, complex young man had given him from the moment they'd first kissed.   
  
He was not an official member of the wedding party and Wufei had been concerned that he'd feel slighted, but Zechs understood. This wedding was an important rite of passage for the boys, perhaps the last one before each couple settled into their new lives. They were not losing each other, but things would change. Zechs was satisfied to be included in that tight inner circle as much as he was.   
  
That acceptance was underscored when they reached the suite that afternoon. Heero showed the security men the room they'd be sharing, then led Zechs back out to the sitting room.  
  
"Trowa and I are sharing," Heero told him quietly, pointing to one of the bedrooms. Zechs could see the end of a large bed through the open doorway. "You're welcome to join us."  
  
Perhaps if the security detail wasn't there, he'd have accepted, but for once he considered appearances, for Wufei's sake. He also had to admit that in his current state of deprivation, memories of the brief passionate tryst he'd shared with Trowa during the war had made a rather strong reappearance as they drove in from the airport. For the first time, such thoughts made him feel unworthy, both of Wufei's love and trust, and his friendship with the others. No, he would sleep alone one more night. "So, what's the plan for tonight?" he asked, after carrying his bag into the third bedroom.  
  
Heero shrugged. "Play some cards? Watch a movie? All the arrangements for tomorrow are taken care of."  
  
"No stag party?"  
  
Trowa chuckled and shook his head. "The past few years have been one long stag party for us."  
  
"I want tomorrow to be special," Heero said with a shy look that was endearing on his usually impassive face.   
  
Zechs clasped his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "How could it not be, my friend? And you're setting a very good example for me, too, when my time comes."  
  
"It must be hard to wait."  
  
Zechs shrugged. "This week has given me a small taste of what it will be like when he's off at school. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but I'll survive."  
  
+  
  
Heero was glad of Trowa's warmth beside him that night. He wasn't really nervous about tomorrow, but a strange excitement gripped him. Logically, this ceremony was a formality, a celebration, certainly, but it wasn't as if he'd feel any different about Duo afterwards.   
  
He tossed and turned for a while, until Trowa finally spooned in behind him and wrapped an arm tightly around his waist. "You need to rest. Tomorrow will be a long day."  
  
"I know." Heero covered Trowa's hand with his own. "Were you nervous, before you and Quatre married?"

"No, we were too stoned." Trowa sounded sad as he said it.  
  
Heero turned over and looked into those green eyes.   
  
Trowa ducked his chin, hiding behind his bangs. "There are a lot of things I'd do differently for him, if I could."  
  
"Regret is pointless."  
  
"I know, but it seems to be my nature."  
  
"Then it would be best not to do things you regret."  
  
Trowa laughed softly at that. "You sound like Batoosingh. And I've already figured that much out." He sighed and stroked Heero's arm. "You always lived like that, no apologies. No regrets."  
  
"That's not true. I regret the mistakes I made, the lives it cost. And I regret leaving Duo alone at the end. I'll spend the rest of my life making that up to him."  
  
"He doesn't see it that way, you know."  
  
"I know, but I do. But that's not why I'm with him. That's not why I'm marrying him."  
  
Trowa chuckled at that. "Lighten up, 01. Anyone can see you're crazy in love with him. Now go to sleep. That's an order."  
  
Heero turned his back to Trowa and pressed back against his warmth again, clutching a pillow in his arms. "Mission accepted."  
  
+  
  
Duo sat on the front steps in his robe with a cup of hot coffee, watching the sunrise over the ocean. "Today's the day!" he whispered, unable to stop grinning. He'd hardly slept, and ended up on the couch when a half awake and very grumpy Wufei threatened him with bodily injury some time around midnight.  
  
He'd slept a few more hours, then got up and began his final check of everything. The clothes were ready, and his other "accoutrements", as the Loose Threads boys called them. The flowers were in the fridge and all the chairs were set up on the beach. The house was immaculate and ready for guests. After a bit more aimless wandering, he'd made coffee and headed for the widow's walk on the roof to watch the sunrise, but somehow the door had gotten locked and he had no idea where the key was. Quatre would know, but he decided to let his friend sleep in some more. He and Wuffie had knocked themselves out for him and deserved the rest.  
  
So instead, here he was on the steps, newly painted toenails glowing a pearly white in the soft morning light. It was going to be a perfect day, clear and warm.   
  
"Today's the day!" he whispered again, and happiness welled up so strong inside him that he had to set the cup aside and run on the beach, flipping a few cartwheels along the way, robe whipping around his legs. "Today's the day!" he shouted up to the circling gulls, and laughed out loud.  
  
+  
  
Quatre was adamant that no one, and most especially Heero, should see Duo before the ceremony, so he and Wufei served as hosts as the guests arrived at one thirty for the afternoon ceremony. Heero and Duo had arranged to fly everyone into Boston, and then get them on several busses. As a result, everyone arrived at once.   
  
The first bus was loaded with their friends from Circus Della Notte. Everyone from the performers to the ticket takers had come and they all wore their masks, in honor of Duo. The second bus brought Howard, Duo's friend from the Sweepers, Trowa's sister Cathy and their friends from the old circus, Sally Po and her date, a doctor named Sikes who she'd met soon after Wufei's meltdown. Doctor Batoosingh had come, as well, with a beautiful Hindi woman in a sari, his wife. Trowa and Quatre handed out shell necklaces to each guest and everyone milled about in the house and on the beach, sipping champagne that was set out in ice buckets on the porch.   
  
At one fifty, as planned, a long limo came down the sandy road, carrying the groom and his friends. The car pulled in behind the house and Heero and the others dashed unseen into the house through the kitchen door.   
  
Wufei met them, as Quatre was upstairs now, helping Duo with his final preparations. Zechs was the first one out of the car and Wufei's heart gave a giddy leap at the sight of him. He was gorgeous in that suit, with his long pale hair pulled back. And those blue eyes were so intense as they met his that Wufei was instantly hard in his pants. It was all he could do not to jump him right there in the kitchen.   
  
"Not until after the ceremony and reception," Trowa chuckled. "Where's Kat?"  
  
"Upstairs," Wufei said, blushing as Zechs stepped to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist.   
  
"Is the roof ready?" asked Heero.   
  
"Affirmative. We had to send him on an errand, but I don't think he suspects a thing."   
  
"Thanks."  
  
Wufei felt a pang of guilt. He'd been so overwhelmed by the presence of his lover that he'd barely acknowledged the groom!  
  
Heero's wedding attire was similar to Duo's: a loose white linen tunic, open to show his toned bare chest, and loose trousers rolled at the ankle over bare feet. As always, he wore no make up, no nail polish or tattoos or piercings. His only adornments were his sapphire ring and those sapphire eyes. Like Zechs, he didn't need anything else. It make Wufei a little self conscious about the pale shell pink polish on his own bare toes, until Zechs looked down and then gave him a look of pure lust and approval. "Very nice, mei."  
  
Wufei's thoughts strayed to the empty bedroom just down the hall, and he wondered how he was going to survive the afternoon without going crazy or embarrassing himself. He shook off the thought and concentrated again on Heero. For the first time since Wufei had known him, he looked nervous. Happy, but nervous.  
  
"How's Duo?" Heero asked.  
  
"Deliriously happy," Wufei told him, and smiled at how Heero Yuy, their impassive 01, grinned and blushed. Wufei took the flat white box from his pocket and handed it to him. "Here, this is for you, from Duo."  
  
Heero's fingers were actually shaking a little as he opened the box to find the seashell choker Duo had made for him: a string of moon shells and striped periwinkles, with a single perfectly fanned white scallop shell as the central pendant, all strung on a thin white silk ribbon. "Wow!" he breathed, and Wufei thought he saw a brief hint of tears in his eyes. Yes, his hands were most definitely shaking as he lifted it from the bed of cotton.   
  
Wufei took it from him and tied it around his neck. The shells glowed against his smooth, lightly tanned skin. "Perfect. You look perfect."

+  
  
"Hold still!" Quatre ordered, smacking Duo on the shoulder with the hairbrush.  
  
Duo could barely stay in the chair. "He's here! He's right down stairs! Can you believe it, Q-ball? Married! Us? 'Til death do us part?"  
  
"Calm down," Quatre chuckled, weaving another long strand of tiny shells into Duo's shining unbound hair. When he was finished there were three strands on either side of his face. He lifted the delicate seashell wreath Duo had fashioned and settled it on his head.  
  
"What do you think?" Duo asked anxiously, starting at himself in the dressing table mirror. "Too much?"  
  
"No! You look beautiful," Quatre assured him, and it was.   
  
Duo had matching bracelets on both wrists, shown off under the rolled sleeves of his open shirt. Around his neck he wore the Shiva's eye pendant, as always, and three graduated strands of moon shells. Quatre bent down and hugged him, careful of hair and jewelry.   
  
"You are the perfect mermaid bride. I can't wait to see Heero's face when he sees you!" Aside from the painted toenails, Duo wore no makeup today. He didn't need any. He was glowing. "You look so lovely, Duo," he said, kissing him on the cheek.   
  
Duo turned in his chair and hugged him. "Thanks, Kat," he whispered into Quatre's hair. "Thank you for keeping me alive through those bad times, so I can be here now!"  
  
Their lips met in a chaste kiss, and then it was time to go.  
  
Duo stood and smoothed his shirt and pants, and gave the bedroom a final appraising look. He'd decorated it for the wedding night with wild roses and lots and lots of candles. A cool ocean breeze stirred the curtains at the open window, and he could hear the sound of happy conversation from the beach below, and the first strains of music, a piece written for them by Quatre. He and Trowa had recorded it, and all the other music for the ceremony, so they could stand up with them today.  
  
He drew in a shaky breath and grinned at Kat. "OK, then. Show time!"

[[chap. 116](http://raygunworks.net/pyrzm/116.html)] [[chap. 118](http://raygunworks.net/pyrzm/118.html)] [[back to pyrzm's fic](http://raygunworks.net/pyrzm.html)]


	118. Happy the Grooms the Sun Shines On (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo's knees felt so wobbly it was a miracle he got down the stairs without falling. It was almost like being afraid, except that he wasn't. No, it was more like that day that Heero's email reached him from Madrid. Getting something he wanted so bad was a rare experience in Duo Maxwell's world. It was overwhelming when it happened.   
  
Quatre put a hand under his arm to steady him and gave him a reassuring smile. At the bottom of the stairs he helped Duo put on the small white, pearl trimmed mask he'd made, which Quatre joking called his "bridal veil."  
  
"I thought only virgins got to wear those," Wufei remarked, grinning.  
  
"I'm wearing it anyway, Chang," Duo mock growled.

"There," Quatre said, arranging Duo's hair around it. "Oh Duo! I'm so happy for you!"

Wufei smiled, too, but his was shy suddenly, and Duo was sure he saw tears in his friend's dark eyes. "You look so-- beautiful!"  
  
"Thanks Wu-man, but stop with the waterworks. You're gonna make me cry!"  
  
Wufei wiped his eyes, reverted to his usual reserved expression, and handed Duo the small bouquet of beach roses. "It's time. Everyone is here."  
  
"Doctor B, too?"   
  
"Yes, and a very lovely woman who must be his wife. Trowa gave them seats near the front." They waited just inside the front door until the first strains of the wedding march began, and then stepped together out onto the porch.   
  
//This is it!// Duo thought, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.   
  
Their friends filled the beach chairs lined up on the sand, and beyond them, at the end of the aisle formed by the chairs and lengths of white ribbon, stood Heero, unbelievably handsome, solid and real. He was wearing the necklace and the white, seashell studded wedding mask Duo had made for him. Trowa and the Justice of the Peace were at his side, all barefoot, as planned. The guests had their shoes off, too.  
  
The sand was warm under Duo's bare feet as he made himself walk slowly in time to the music. It was hard to read Heero's face with the mask covering half of it, but as Duo drew closer, he saw him smile, a real, genuine, human display of delight. The cold breeze off the water blew his dark hair into sexy disarray, and caught at the open shirt, baring more of his tanned chest and sides.   
  
//Is this real, or am I dreaming again?// thought Duo.  
  
But it seemed very real as he reached Heero and they joined hands and waded out shin deep into the freezing Atlantic water, followed by the JP and their friends.  
  
OK, maybe they hadn't thought that part through. Quatre's chin was already shaking as his teeth began to chatter, but it was too late now. Heero wanted a "mermaid" wedding and that's what he was going to have.  
  
The JP gave them both a nod and Heero reached out and gently lifted Duo's mask away. Duo did the same, trying not to grin like a mad man. Both of them had very shaky hands. Trowa took the masks and Duo and Heero joined hands.  
  
"Friends of Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy," the JP began, smiling herself. She didn't have any notes or a book or anything. "We are gathered here in this beautiful place, a place filled with warm meaning for the couple, and the good friends standing here with them, to see two loving hearts joined as on forever. Too often I know little about the people I marry, but like everyone here, I have watched this great romance play out on magazine covers, newspapers and vids. It's an honor to help them finally realize the ultimate commitment they are both so willing to make to one another. They, and their friends, have become symbols of the transition from war to peace, from enmity to friendship." Here she nodded to Zechs, who was sitting front and center with the guests. "From soldiers, they have become icons of love and real friendship. May they always be, for each other and all of you who love them."  
  
She paused and Duo saw Heero blinking hard already.  
  
"And now Wufei Chang will deliver a short blessing he has chosen, on behalf of their friends."  
  
Wufei, who'd face death in battle without batting an eye, was shaking like a leaf as he turned and faced the crowd. But his voice was steady as he began.  
  
"From the I Ching. ' When two people are at one in their inmost hearts,  
they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze.  
And when two people understand each other in their inmost hearts,  
their words are sweet and strong, like the fragrance of orchids.' "  
  
He paused, and then bowed to the couple. "Such is the love we see between you both."  
  
"And now Duo and Heero will exchange their own vows. Duo?"  
  
Duo took Heero's cold, trembling hands in his own and swallowed hard. He wasn't good with fancy speeches, so he'd decided to just tell the truth. With the incoming tide surging around his legs and shifting the sand under his feet, trying not to think about all the people sitting there, listening, he swallowed again and began.  
  
"Heero, you and I were both lost, but you were the one who found your way back to me. Every day for the rest of our lives I will show you how much you are loved, how glad I am that you came through when I'd given up, back in the day, and more recently, too. I give you the only thing I've ever had to give anyone: my self, all of me, but most of all, I give you my heart. I'll always be your wingman. I'll always have your back. I'll always be your mermaid, too." He paused, blushing, and whispered "You know what that means, right?"  
  
Heero nodded, and a tear spilled down his cheek.   
  
Duo brushed it away with gentle fingers. " Anyway, baby, I will always, always love you forever. I wish I was better with words, but there it is. I love you, Heero, and I always will, no matter what." Finished, he squeezed Heero's fingers and gave him a smile.  
  
Heero took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Duo, since the day we met, you saw the humanity in me, even when I did not believe it there. Your belief in me changed my life. It changed me. You are like a light that came on and showed me a world I hadn't even suspected was there. Your friendship was a revelation, and then your love for me. But I loved you before I knew it was returned. You are my sun, and everything that is beautiful to me. The thought of you sustained me through the darkest days, and there you were, still waiting for me, when I found my way home to you." He paused and cleared his throat again, but his blue eyes never left Duo's face. "You are my heart's home, Duo, and you always will be. I want to be the same for you always and forever. I love you, Duo."  
  
So neither one of them was Shakespeare, or one of Wu's fancy poets, but there wasn't a dry eye on the beach when they were done. Even the JP was teary eyed. But she made it through all the "will you's" and "do you take's" just fine, and finally got to the good part.  
  
"Duo and Heero, will you seal the pledges you have just given with a kiss before these witnesses?"  
  
With the breeze and waves and sunshine all around them, and everyone clapping and cheering, Heero took Duo in his arms and kissed his lights out right there in front of everyone. They were still lip locked when the JP laughed and said, "Then the by power vested in me by the state of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you husband and husband. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Heero and Duo Maxwell."  
  
There was a slight pause, and some surprised looks, then everyone clapped again.  
  
Duo and Heero had nearly had a fight over the whole name thing. As far as Duo was concerned, Heero Yuy was the name of the person he'd fallen for and the name the world knew Heero by. At the very least, they should do the whole hyphenated thing. But Heero had out logic'd him again.  
  
"That's just some other man's name they gave me when they made me a terrorist. It was never mine, never who I am. I don't even have a real name that I know of. But your names, Duo, both of them, they mean something. You chose them. They are who you are. And I want to be part of something real. Please, share your name with me?" And then they'd both cried a little and that had been the end of the matter.   
  
Heero might still be Yuy to the world, but on paper and in his heart, he was a Maxwell now. Together they were "the Maxwell family". Duo's heart just about burst with happiness at the thought of that as Heero scooped him up in his arms and carried him back to dry land, followed by the others.   
  
Zechs was the first to greet them. He kissed them both on the cheek and gave them a crushing hug, then grabbed Wufei and kissed him like they'd just gotten married.  
  
"And they were only apart a few days!" Quatre laughed. Trowa was draped over him like a sweater, green eyes filled with love and hunger.  
  
The wedding photographer took over, posing Dou and Heero and their wedding party and various friends in front of the ocean, and then did some shots in the house. With that done, they were hugged and cried over for almost half an hour before they got everyone back on the to go to Ma Rainey's. Sally Po held them both by the shoulder and shook her head. "It's hard to believe you're the same to crazy boys who jumped from that hospital window that time. My god, who'd have thought?"  
  
Duo was just recovering from a rib crushing hug from Cathy when he turned and found Dr. Batoosingh standing there with his hand out.  
  
"Doc! Damn, I'm glad you came," he laughed, pushing the hand aside and hugging the man. "Whaddya think? This gonna work?"  
  
"Yes, of that I have no doubt. I wish you both the very best."  
  
Heero put his arm around Duo and shook Dr. B's hand. "We both owe you more than we can ever repay."  
  
"Oh, I don't know about that," Batoosingh laughed. "Part of what brought you this far was doing the exact opposite of what I advised."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," Trowa noted wryly, still wrapped around Quatre.  
  
Zechs, Cathy and her date joined them in the huge limo, where champagne was chilled and waiting. Zechs had Wufei in his lap, and held him tight while he raised his glass to Duo and Heero. "Let me be the first to toast the newlyweds. To Mr. and Mr. Maxwell!"  
  
"Thank you," said Heero, clinking his glass with his and Wufei's. "I do like the sound of that."  
  
"I guess I do too," Duo agreed, wiggling up into Heero's lap and kissing him on the top of the head.   
  
+  
  
The club was ready for them. The tables were draped in white clothes and decorated with flowers and candles. The dj had the music pumping and the vid screens were on, panning the crowd and zeroing in on Duo and Heero.   
  
They cut the tall, white wedding cake, which was topped with small, finely detailed sculptures of the two of them cast in gundanium, a gift made by Trowa. They fed each other the ritual piece, kissed and more pictures were taken.   
  
Cathy took charge of serving the cake while Heero led Duo out onto the dance floor for their first dance. Heero had picked the song, and kept it a secret.  
  
"So, I finally get to hear what you chose," Duo grinned, wrapping his arms around Heero's waist as the dj cued up the song. "Something mushy, I bet." Instead, the snarl of an electric guitar playing to a heavy driving beat erupted from the speakers around the room, with a sassy bass line. It sent Duo's heart into overdrive as Billy Sido's harsh, deep, sex-drenched voice pounced on the crowd.  
  
'I know you love me. I see the signs.   
Don't even have to read between the lines."  
  
Heero pulled him in closer and ground his belly against Duo's. "Remember this song?"  
  
"I love this song!"  
  
"You sang it for me, in the kitchen that day. With that frilly apron on?"  
  
"Oh baby! Perfect!" And he sang along as he and Heero groped each other like they were the only two people in the whole damn room.  
  
"Ooo baby! How you tease 'n please.   
Makes me holler, makes me weak in the knees!   
Shake me baby, then hold on tight.   
Gonna rock your world the whole damn night!'"  
  
The dance floor filled up around them as the other guests joined in, many of them belting out the chorus as they danced.   
  
"Shake me, break me, sexy baby.   
Gonna spread your wings, an' I don't mean maybe.   
Take me, shake me, don't never fake me.   
Gonna rock your world alllllll night long!"  
  
+  
  
Three days' abstinence and the champagne in the limo had quite effectively lowered most of Wufei's inhibitions. For once he didn't cringe at the music, or flinch and blush as Zechs grabbed him from behind and ground against him in the press of the crowd. Instead, he groaned and threw his head back against Zechs's strong shoulder as those big hands roamed down his sides and over his hips, fingers tantalizing inches from where Wufei most wanted them right now.   
  
At Quatre's suggestion, he was wearing a snug silk thong under his linen trousers and thankfully, that contained his growing erection. But nothing could contain the rush of lust that overwhelmed him at his lover's touch. He spun around and pressed himself against Zechs, tugging him down by the hair for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. Zechs thrust his tongue into his mouth, then licked and tickled his way to Wufei's ear to whisper in that husky voice, "I need you mei. I want you so badly!"  
  
With one scorching glance for an answer, Wufei took him by the hand and led him to a back door out of the main club area. He'd surveyed the entire building when they'd come here to decorate and make final arrangements. Thanks to that, he led Zechs straight to an unlocked storeroom. It wasn't very big, or very romantic, but it had a door that shut. The minute it was closed behind them Wufei undid his belt and zipper and let the loose pants fall to the floor. Turning his back to Zechs, he braced himself against the door and thrust back with his hips.  
  
"Take me, Zechs!"  
  
Zech came up behind him and pressed close, covering Wufei's body with his. Those hands swept up under Wufei's tee shirt, one hot, the other smooth and cool against his flesh, and then slowly slid down, down, down to cup his hard cock through the silky thong. It pulled a frustrated whine from his throat. "Oh god, Zechs, now!"  
  
Warm fingers slid under the back of his thong, slowly lifting the thin string from the crack of his ass and inching toward his opening. Wufei shuddered and whined again as a fingertip circled there. A warm tongue found the exquisitely sensitive spot on his neck, just below his ear and swirled hard against it, driving Wufei crazy with desire. "Pleeeeeeese! Take me like one of those Le Fleur back room boys!"  
  
"Oh mei, my lovely Wufei," Zechs whispered against his ear, sending more chills down through him to his aching, weeping, still all too covered cock. Wufei heard the rattle of a belt buckle, and the soft swish of fabric as Zechs's pants slipped off. "I promised you once that I would never treat you that way."  
  
"But I want---" The rest of the complaint was cut off as a long warm finger plunged inside him and found his prostate.  
  
Zechs's breath was warm and champagne scented against Wufei's cheek as he laughed softly. "Mmmm. Just as I suspected. You're already stretched and lubed."  
  
"I kept myself ready for-"   
  
Zechs grabbed him and whirled him around, slamming him back against the door and pinning him there with his body as he pulled Wufei's legs up around his waist. Before Wufei could recover from that unexpected assault, he felt the blunt tip of that huge cock against his hole, and then the shattering pain and pleasure as Zechs plunged it up his ass.  
  
"Not like them, Wufei," Zechs whispered, gazing down at him with those intense blue eyes. "But like this, face to face so I can see the passion rise in those incredible eyes of yours, and watch the rosy flush color your cheeks as I fuck you through this wooden door."  
  
With a wanton sob of pleasure and longing, Wufei dug his fingers in to Zech's shoulders and arched against him, squirming on the thick shaft that impaled him so deliciously. "Yessssssss. Do it!"  
  
Zechs lifted him up, withdrawing slowly, then slammed back up into him again, so hard Wufei couldn't even get his breath. "Like that, little Chang? Is that how you want it right now?"  
  
"Yes!" Wufei squeaked. "More! Again!"  
  
And Zech gave it to him, so hard it rattled the wooden door on its hinges.  
  
+  
  
"Hey, where's Big Blondie?" Duo asked, looking around the crowd as he and Heero shared a four-sided dance with Quatre and Trowa. "He promised he'd dance with me at my wedding and I'm holding him to it!"  
  
Quatre closed his eyes for an instant, then turned bright red as he staggered and fell into Trowa's arms with a moan.   
  
"Are you all right?" Heero asked, concerned.   
  
"Uh, he and Wufei are going at it like wildcats in heat somewhere out back," Quatre muttered, sliding against Trowa in much the same fashion.  
  
Trowa gave Duo and Heero an apologetic smile. "I think you're going to have to excuse us for a bit."  
  
"Sure, go!" Duo laughed, snuggling into Heero's arms. "I don't suppose---?"  
  
"Later, little mermaid," Heero whispered in his ear, following the words with a flick of his tongue.  
  
Duo pretended to pout. "Great. Everyone's getting laid but me!"  
  
Heero cuddled him closer. "I promise, you'll be glad we waited."  
  
+  
  
Quatre had scoped out the place, too, and knew where he was going as he led Trowa by the hand toward the stairs leading up to the roof. He didn't need any more empathic work to figure out that Wufei had already commandeered the storeroom. The door was shaking in a steady, unmistakable rhythm, and they could hear Wufei's breathless moans and Zechs's deeper growls of passion.  
  
"That still amazes me," Trowa murmured as they passed.  
  
No one else was on the roof, at least no yet. Quatre led him to a sheltered spot behind the AC unit and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Trowa returned it with equal fervor, burying long fingers in Quatre's tousled blond hair. Then he moved his lips to Quatre's eyelids, his nose, his cheeks and chin, kissing gently but passionately. "Mi Corazon. Mon petit, Je t'aime beaucoup! Je vais vous faire l'amour doux!"  
  
"Yes, Trowa. I want that. I love you so much!"  
  
Heedless of his light colored trousers, Trowa fell to his knees and opened Quatre's pants to smooth his fingers over the bulging silk below."  
  
"Oh, Trowa, I'm so close! Don't let me cum in my pants, Corazon!"  
  
"Meli, I will drink you like wine." He let Quatre's pants fall, then wrapped his hands in the side of the thong and tore through the waistband. Throwing the ruined garment aside, he took Quatre's hard, sweet, metal studded cock in his mouth and worshipped it with his tongue. Already over stimulated by the day and the dancing and his quick, guilty glimpse of what Wufei and Zechs were still up to, Quatre came quick and hard down his husband's throat. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet afterward. He turned, grabbed a railing by the AC unit, and presented his bottom to Trowa.   
  
He stayed on his knees as he grabbed Quatre's slim little hips and tongue fucked him until he was loose and juicy. Only then did he rise and enter him. Bending his knees, he fucked him slowly and gently, caressing every inch of his husband's beautiful little body that he could reach. It was always heaven to be inside him, and a week's horny yearning made it all the sweeter. Quartre's skin was luminous in the moonlight, and his hair shone like white gold. "Bello!" Trowa crooned as he rocked in and out of him. "Bellisimo!"  
  
Aroused as he was, Trowa kept the pace slow, allowing Quatre to recover and grow erect again under his gentle caresses. When he was panting and moaning again, Trowa quickened his thrusts a little, just enough to bring them both to a long, lingering climax. Quatre's legs gave out and Trowa lowered them both down to the rough ground, cradling Quatre in his arms. "Meli. My beautiful little husband. I missed you so much!"  
  
"I missed you, too," Quatre whispered in exhausted satisfaction. "Don't think I want to be away from you again for a long time!"  
  
"You won't be, meli. I'm here, and I'll always stay with you."  
  
They kissed again, casting a single shadow in the moonlight.


	119. Happy the Grooms the Sun Shines On (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by pyrzm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

"Where the hell is everyone?" Duo asked, looking around at the pulsing crowd. It had been nearly half an hour since Tro and Kat had taken off.  
  
Heero didn't loosen his grip on Duo's waist as he turned him toward the back of the club. "They came back a few minutes ago."  
  
Trowa and Quatre were cuddled up in a booth, feeding each other champagne. Both were flushed and glowing. A moment later Wufei and Zechs emerged from the men's room. Zechs didn't have a hair out of place. Wufei was pink in the face and limping a little. He slid into the booth across from the lovebirds and gave Duo a weak wave. Zechs marched straight over to them, grabbed Duo away from Heero with a wink and a grin, and took advantage of the slow song to fold him in his arms for a slow dance.  
  
"You kept your promise," Duo said, grinning up at him.  
  
"Of course! You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"  
  
Duo sniffed at him and wrinkled his nose. "Well, you were distracted for a while."  
  
"Sorry. Couldn't be helped? Jealous?"  
  
Duo gave him a haughty look. "Sorry, Blondie. I'm saving myself."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it." He looked back toward the booth and smiled. "Well, will wonders never cease."  
  
Heero had somehow convinced Wufei to dance with him. They were both a bit stiff, and there was plenty of daylight showing between them, but they were both smiling, too.  
  
"That's a fine man you have there," said Zechs.  
  
"Yours, too. You're taking good care of him, right?"  
  
"Oh yes."  
  
"And you can't talk him out of this crazy going away to school thing? You're both going to be miserable."  
  
"It's only for a few months at a time, Duo, and there will be holidays. I know you don't understand, but believe me, it's for the best."  
  
"You're not worried?"  
  
"About him changing his mind if he's away from me? A little, but if he does, it's better that it happen sooner than later."  
  
Duo pulled back a little and looked up at him. "You are worried."  
  
"He's very young, Duo, and I'm his first lover. I don't want to hold him back in any way. That wouldn't be love."  
  
"So you'd just let him go, if that's what he decided?"  
  
"Yes." Those pale blue eyes were shadowed with a moment's sadness as they strayed over to Wufei, still dancing with Heero. "I don't want him ever to look back in regret."  
  
"You dumb bastard!" Duo punched him in the arm, hard, but unfortunately it was the fake one. "OW! Fuck!"  
  
Laughing, Zechs raised the injured hand to his lips and kissed it. "Temper, Maxwell. It will be your undoing. And thank you for your concern."  
  
Heero and Wufei had seen and were on their way over. "He's crazy about you!" Duo whispered quickly. "Don't be so fucking noble that he starts to think you don't care!"  
  
"Never, I promise you that."  
  
"What's going on?" Wufei demanded, looking at them oddly.  
  
"Just talking," Duo told him. "Hey, how 'bout a dance, 05?"  
  
"Very well. But this time I get to lead."  
  
"Oooo. I love it when you get all butch!" Duo threw himself into Wufei's arms and whirled him away.  
  
"Well?" Heero arched a dark brow at Zechs. "You both looked very serious there for a moment."  
  
"Duo thinks I'm crazy to send Wufei off to school. Apparently he thinks I should keep him locked up like a caged pet."  
  
"Duo doesn't understand the importance of the school. I'm sure you and Wufei will manage well enough."  
  
"What about you? How will Duo handle you going off to school?"  
  
Heero smiled as much as he ever smiled for anyone other than Duo. "Oh, I have that figured out."  
  
+  
  
"Can I get you some more champagne?" Wufei asked as the song ended and he and Duo stepped apart.   
  
"No thanks, but some of the unspiked punch would be good."  
  
"Not drinking?"  
  
"I don't much, anymore. Still on the meds, you know? I always will be. Besides, I'm not taking any chances on "whiskey dick"* tonight."  
  
"Dick who?" asked Heero, coming up behind him and capturing him in his arms.  
  
"Nobody you'd know, babe," Duo laughed, winking at Wufei.  
  
Trowa and Kat wandered out to join them, reeking of sex and making goo goo eyes at each other. Duo grabbed Kat for a dance, and Heero offered his hand to Trowa.  
  
Trowa came into his arms willingly, but didn't press up close. Instead, he just gave Heero a kiss on the cheek and a smile.   
  
"You look happy," Heero observed.  
  
"I should be saying that to you, but yes, I am. I really am. For you, and for myself."  
  
"Good."  
  
+  
  
They danced and socialized for another hour, then it was time for the newlyweds to make their departure. The party would go on all night without them.  
  
They dashed through a hail of rice to the garishly decked out limo and clambered into the back, waving to their friends and guests.  
  
"Why do people do that?" Duo wondered, shaking loose grains from his hair.  
  
"It's a fertility rite, to ensure we'll have lots of children."   
  
"Yeah? Well the stretch marks are all yours, Yuy."  
  
Heero captured his chin and kissed him on the nose. "That's Maxwell to you, Maxwell." His finger wandered up to the shell wreath Duo still wore and his eyes misted a little. "God, I couldn't believe it when you came down that beach. My beautiful mermaid lover."  
  
"Kinky, beautiful, foul mouthed mermaid lover. Isn't that what you called me?"  
  
"All of that, but beautiful most of all. And you don't swear much anymore."  
  
"You bet your fuckin' ass I don't!" Duo crowed, leaning happily on his shoulder.   
  
Heero wrapped an arm around him, chuckling deep in his chest.  
  
About a mile from the house the driver pulled over. Heero reached into a compartment under the armrest and took out a cell phone, his Glock, and an ankle holster.  
  
"What the hell?" Duo was on alert instantly, reaching for weapons that weren't there.  
  
"No, it's not that," Heero quickly assured him, buckling on the holster and slipping the phone in his pocket. "I want to walk the rest of the way, that's all."  
  
"Oh . . . OK, I guess."  
  
They got out and Heero waved the driver off. The temperature had dropped when the sun went down and he put his arm around Duo again to keep him warm as they walked along the sandy shoulder of the road above the beach. The ocean was black, the waves tipped with silver moonlight, and the stars were like a thick scattering of frost against the sky. Early crickets were singing in the dunes, and some night bird.  
  
"Wow, it's a pretty night, isn't it?" Duo marveled, falling into step with Heero. "What's with the gun? Something you're not telling me?"  
  
"No. I'd have told my wingman if I expected trouble. Just a standard precaution."  
  
Duo caught Heero's free hand and laced their fingers together. "It's like our first date. You went armed, and said you'd protect me."  
  
"Not that I don't think you could protect yourself-"  
  
"I know, baby. I was just going to say I appreciate the gesture. It's romantic."  
  
Heero's arm tightened around him. "I'm glad you think so."  
  
They walked on in silence, enjoying the night and each other's warmth. Reaching their road, they turned off and walked through the dunes until the house came in sight. Without breaking stride, Heero took something small from his pants pocket and aimed it at the house. Fairy lights came on up on the widow's walk.   
  
"I take it this has something to do with the door being locked earlier?"   
  
Heero nodded, but wouldn't explain. He paused on the porch and kissed Duo, then led him upstairs and ran a hot bath in the deep old claw foot tub. Duo was impatient to see what the surprise on the roof was, but Heero lingered over the bath, washing him lovingly but not going any further than that. He was careful not to let Duo's hair get wet, but wouldn't let him take off the wreath or the pearls braided into his hair. Lifting a beaded strand of hair to his lips, he kissed it. "I may ask you to do this more often. You look so sexy!"  
  
When they were both clean and dry and very aroused, Heero wrapped them both in thick robes and took Duo to the door that led up to the widow's walk. Producing a key, he opened the door and then scooped Duo up in his arms and carried him up the stairs.  
  
"I guess this makes me the bride, huh?" Duo laughed.  
  
Heero paused. "I don't think of you that way. You're my lover, my husband and I just-well." He started to put Duo down but he clung to Heero and refused to get down.  
  
"No, no! It's OK, baby. I like it when you get all gallant and dominant. Carry on!"  
  
So Heero did and pushed the door at the top of the stairs open with his foot.  
  
Still in his arms, Duo let out a whistle of appreciation. "Oh baby! Wow!"  
  
Following Heero's detailed instructions, Quatre and the others had wrestled a large futon up to the roof and made it up with satin sheets, piles of pillows, and a thick velvet comforter. Two radiant heat pillars stood close to the bed, and a bottle of something in a silver ice bucket.  
  
The wrought iron railings were festooned with strings of fairy lights, and there was a small side table holding a box of Sanque chocolates, a dish of strawberries and several bottles. Overhead the starry sky was their canopy and the soft sigh of the tide and the crickets were music enough.  
  
"I was really worried about the weather," Heero admitted, kneeling to lay Duo in the middle of the bed. "I mean, we could have used the bedroom downstairs, like always but---"  
  
Duo cut him off with a kiss. "It's perfect. Thank you!"  
  
"It's our wedding night, Duo. I wanted it to be special."  
  
"It already is, 'ro."  
  
Heero turned on the heaters, then popped the cork and filled two tall-stemmed glasses with something bubbly. Duo sipped his and smiled. "Sparkling cider. Very nice!"  
  
"And doesn't cause whiskey dick," Heero added with a twinkle in his eye.   
  
They nibbled strawberries and chocolate, but that really wasn't what either of them was hungry for. Kneeling, they slowly took of each other's robe. Heero combed Duo's long hair out around him with his fingers, stroking the strands of pearls. "Beautiful!" He murmured, almost reverently.  
  
"You always have had a thing for my hair," Duo whispered back, then placed a hand over Heero's heart, feeling the comforting rhythm.   
  
Heero did the same, and for a moment they stayed like that, eyes half closed, feeling the beat of life in their lover's warm body. Then Heero took Duo's face between his hands and began to gently kiss him all over-eyes, cheeks, chin, nose, forehead, and finally, back to his full, warm lips. They parted under his and the tip of Duo's pink tongue teased its way into his mouth, sweet with strawberries and cider. Heero drank him in, breath catching in his throat.   
  
"Oh, Duo!"  
  
Duo kissed him back, then whispered, "Take me to bed, Mr. Maxwell."  
  
And Heero did just that. Pressing Duo's naked body back against the pillows, he reached underneath one of them and pulled out several long white silk scarves. As Duo's eyes went wide with lust, he quickly bound his hands to the railings behind the bed.   
  
"Oh baby!"  
  
"What's your safe word tonight, little mermaid?"  
  
"The one I gave you. 'Stop.'"   
  
"Good." Heero reached under another pillow and took out a slim, cock-shaped jelly vibrator. He rubbed it down Duo's cheek, let him kiss it and suck on the tip for a moment, and then slicked it with lube from one of the bottles on the small table. "Spread your legs for me, Duo."  
  
Duo bent his knees eagerly, opening himself, and Heero slowly worked the vibe in to the hilt, then turned it on to a low buzz. Tingles spread through Duo's ass, prostate, and out to engulf his whole body. "Oh, baby!"  
  
"That's just to warm you up and hold you interest," Heero whispered. He moved up and straddled Duo's chest, balls hot and heavy over his heart, then leaned forward and guided the tip to Duo's lips. Duo licked it eagerly and Heero slowly fed him the bulbous tip, but no more. Duo sucked and licked, already crazy with desire. The first salty taste of precum was better than any champagne.   
  
Heero leaned over him, still head-fucking his lips. "I love you Duo. I love it that this turns you on. You're so sexy, all spread out for me, so willing. I want to make you feel better than I ever have tonight, so you'll always remember it."  
  
With his mouth still busy, Duo looked up at his husband, letting his eyes speak for him. Heero pulled his cock away and kissed him passionately, drawing his own taste from Duo's tongue, while he reached down and turned the vibrator up a notch. The new level of pulsation all but took Duo's breath away. He moaned and arched his back, wanting more.  
  
But Heero took his time. He kissed him a bit longer then slowly licked his way to the sensitive spot under Duo's ear and bit him there, wringing another moan from him.  
  
"Oh god, 'ro! Want you so baaaaaad!"  
  
"You've got me, Duo. Forever and always. I'm going to make love to you a thousand times and more."  
  
"Can we take breaks to eat sometimes?"  
  
"If you must." Heero kissed his way down Duo's throat and chest, pausing to tickle and nip at each hard pink nipple.   
  
Duo was vibrating under him now and he took full advantage, kissing and licking his way down that taut, hairless belly to the neatly trimmed nest of curls around the base of Duo's hard cock. He nuzzled the fragrant hair, breathing in Duo's sweet musky scent, then licked and sucked his balls, making Duo shout with pleasure and frustration as he resolutely avoided touching his cock. Letting him suffer a little longer, he kissed his way down one leg, sucked the toes of both feet until Duo was writhing and giggling, then kissed his way back up the other long, sexy leg to the humming vibrator. Taking the end of it in his teeth, he slowly drew it out and pushed it back in, again and again while Duo moaned his desire to the stars.  
  
"Oh, Heero! I'm going out of my mind here! Please!"  
  
Relenting a little, Heero slowly drew the vibe all the way out, then replaced it with his hard, thrusting tongue, rimming and tongue fucking Duo to new heights of arousal.   
  
"Your cock, 'ro! Please, please please give me your cock!"  
  
"I like it when you beg for it," Heero purred. Kneeling, he grabbed Duo's ankles, pulled his legs up high and spread wide, and slowly pushed his cock inside him.  
  
"Oh yeah!" Duo groaned. "Harder, baby. Give it to me hard!"  
  
So Heero did, angling so he didn't hit the prostate every time, keeping Duo moaning, but not letting him come. He was very good at this, and at not coming himself. The stars slowly moved above them as he tirelessly rocked in and out, in and out, and Duo's cries became more passion-filled, and more desperate.   
  
"Oh baby. Touch my cock. Jerk it for me."  
  
"No."  
  
Duo cracked an eyelid to give him a puzzled look, then reached for his cock himself. Heero slapped it away and kept thrusting. "Wait for it, 02."  
  
"Oh Jesus! Oh Heero! Can't take much more . . ."  
  
"Yes you can, 02. You can take everything I give you. I love you."  
  
"Love you!"  
  
When it looked like Duo was close to total melt down Heero pulled out, quickly and efficiently slicked Duo's cock, then straddled his lean hips, untied Duo's hands, then slowly lowered himself onto Duo's cock. Duo gaped up at him, apparently having trouble figuring out this sudden turn around.  
  
"I'm yours Duo." He bent and kissed him, resting his hands on either side his husband's head. "I love you. Take me."  
  
"Oh god! Ride me!" Duo grabbed Heero by the hips and slammed up into him, pounding hard toward completion. Heero's lips parted in a smile of bliss as Duo's head stroked him deep inside. It was beyond good, but he held on, not letting himself fall over the edge into orgasm.   
  
Duo came hard and screaming, fingers digging into Heero's hips hard enough to leave bruises. Heero rode him a little longer, but pulled off before Duo was done coming. Pulling Duo's legs up over his shoulders, he slammed back into his tight ass and did some pounding of his own, aiming for Duo's prostate now and quickly joining him in a prolonged orgasm that had them both shaking and screaming.   
  
When it was finally, mostly over, he maneuvered them both under the covers and held Duo in his arms, burying his face in that fragrant, soft hair.   
  
"Oh my god!" Duo moaned, clinging to him. "O my-Oh my Heero. That was-beyond-amazing! Love you!"  
  
"I love you too, Duo. Always and forever."  
  
They cuddled for a while, and when Duo showed signs of drifting off, Heero pulled out a flat box wrapped in silver and white wedding paper.  
  
"Hey, I thought we weren't going to do that," Duo mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.  
  
"Well, this is something for both of us."  
  
Duo opened the box and found a white photo album inside. The pages all seemed to be blank, until Heero turned to the back and a page with a key taped to it.   
  
"That looks like a house key, 'ro."  
  
"Turn the page."  
  
The next page was filled with a large photo of a New Orleans French Quarter row house. An address was written underneath in Heero's neat hand. It was just a few blocks from Quatre and Trowa's place.   
  
"You bought a house?"  
  
"No, not until you say you want it. But I gave them a deposit to hold it until we have a good look at it. There are more pictures."  
  
Duo turned the pages with shaking fingers. It was smaller than their friends' place, and unfurnished, but just as old and authentic, with a small, overgrown courtyard, lots of fireplaces, dark wood and wallpaper, tall windows along a gallery, and high ceilings.   
  
"And this is why I thought we'd like it." Heero turned to the last page and showed Duo the huge, north facing studio area on the top floor. "There's room for both of us to set up our art areas, with room left over for a dojo. And it's not far from the New Orleans Academy of Fine Arts."  
  
"You got accepted!"  
  
"Yes." He showed Duo the acceptance letter taped inside the back cover. "I can make it home to have lunch with you, if you want. And we can see Tro and Quatre whenever they're in town, so it's not like we're losing them. And you've got that gallery show there, and . . ."  
  
Duo kissed him again. "It's perfect, baby. Let's go see it tomorrow."  
  
"Then I guess we'll need these." Heero produced a pair of airline tickets from behind the pillows.  
  
"What the hell else you got under there?" Duo laughed.  
  
"That's it. So, oysters and absinthe for supper tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah. That sounds really good."  
  
They lay back and stared up at the stars for a while, holding hands under the comforter.   
  
"To think we started out there, and ended up here," Duo said softly. "Who'd have thought, that day I shot you on that pier?"  
  
"Or all those times I pushed you away and called you an idiot."  
  
"Yeah, I noticed you stopped doing that."  
  
Heero turned to him, letting Duo feel the swell of a fresh erection. "I'll never push you away again."  
  
Duo straddled him this time, beautiful against the starry background, and Heero could have cried for happiness as they joined their bodies and hearts again, souls already joined for the years to come.  
  
THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Whiskey dick-sometimes men have trouble keeping an erection after drinking alcohol.


End file.
